Pup Fiction

by Laurien Berenson

Dogs? What dogs?

  Then, abruptly, I remembered. In the spring, Graceland School had become home to three rambunctious Dalmatian puppies. Occasionally, I’d catch a glimpse of them when I was dropping Kev off or picking him up. The spotted trio had been roly-poly youngsters when they’d appeared in April. Now they must be around six months old.

  Not a good age to have been left alone without supervision. That thought brought me to my feet as well.

  “Where are your puppies?” I asked.

  Emily pointed toward the ceiling—which, remarkably, was not in tatters on the floor around us. “Guess.”

  “That’s your apartment, right?” I’d never seen it, but I knew it was there. “You live upstairs?”

  “I do if the place is still in one piece. Right now, I’m thinking the chances of that are about fifty-fifty.”

  I wouldn’t have taken those odds myself. Apparently, the puppies were loose up there by themselves. And it sounded as though they were having a great time.

  “You didn’t want to crate them?” I asked.

  She shrugged. “I might have, if I owned crates.”

  Yes, that definitely would have been helpful.

  I started to say something else, then stopped. My relationship with Emily had always been cordial, but she and I only really knew each other in a professional capacity—either as teacher and parent, or briefly as employer and employee. I hoped my curiosity about the Dalmatians wasn’t causing me to overstep some unspoken boundary.

  “I usually try to keep the puppies with me,” Emily said. She sounded apologetic. “Or at least somewhere nearby. But this is the first day of camp, and you know what that’s like. Today, I just wanted them out of the way, in a place where they couldn’t cause any trouble.”

  If that had been her goal, it appeared she’d failed miserably.

  Another thump—this one not nearly as large as the first, came from above us. Emily and I both gazed upward with trepidation. Yup, there was definitely a crack in the ceiling.

  At least Faith was no longer barking. Now she’d returned to stand with her body pressed against my leg. Clearly, she was feeling apologetic too.

  I reached down and gave the big Poodle a pat. Her earlier transgression was forgotten. She and I were good.

  Emily sighed. She briefly closed her eyes. She was probably imagining the damage being done upstairs. I figured I probably shouldn’t mention that; when my family’s male dogs were in the mood to make some serious mischief, they’d been known to attack our couch cushions.

  “Don’t you have a pen for the puppies out back?” I asked. I was pretty sure I’d once seen the Dalmatians confined behind the school.

  “Yes.”

  “Why didn’t you put them in there?”

  “That’s just it. I did.”

  I frowned. “You did what?”

  “I got up this morning and took them for a long run to wear them out. Then I put them in their pen. Early. It was before seven o’clock. I knew today was going to be hectic. I figured it was the safest place for them to be.”

  “But they’re not there now,” I pointed out.

  “I know that,” Emily snapped. “Something went wrong, I have no idea what. Next thing I knew, Mia was calling to tell me that the puppies were loose and playing in traffic out on the road. She’d seen them when she was driving in. She said they nearly caused an accident.”

  “Yikes.” No wonder Emily was upset. That was every dog owner’s worst nightmare.

  “I ran right out to get them. But then they wouldn’t listen to me. Those little stinkers thought we were playing a game. It took me twenty minutes to round them up. By that time, I was covered in dirt and sweating like a pig. In the end, I had to bribe them with hot dogs.”

  Entertaining as that visual was, I didn’t dare laugh. Apparently, Emily had yet to train her puppies to pay attention to her. If only she’d required the same respect from them that she did from her students, that whole misadventure would have played out differently.

  “At that point, I didn’t dare put them back in the pen,” Emily continued. “Because I didn’t know how they got out the first time. So I was afraid they’d just escape again.”

  “Good thinking,” I agreed.

  “I was running out of time, so I brought them up to the apartment with me. The puppies were worn out by then. They fell asleep while I was making myself presentable again.” Emily’s expression turned glum. “Now it sounds as though they’ve gotten their second wind.”

  You think?

  “But I can’t do anything about that now, because they need to stay locked up until after morning drop-off. So remember earlier, when you asked me what was the matter?”

  “Yes,” I said. “And now I get it.”

  Emily sagged back against the edge of her desk. Suspicious noises were still coming from the room above us. “Why don’t these things ever happen on a quiet weekend morning?”

  “Because that would make life entirely too easy,” I replied. “Tell me what I can do to help.”

  Unexpectedly, Emily grinned. “Last time you asked me that question, you ended up working here for the summer.”

  Good point.

  “Not this time,” I said, but I was smiling too. “Why don’t we go and have a look at your pen? Maybe the puppies dug their way out. Or maybe there’s something wrong with the latch.”

  Emily walked over to the window. It overlooked the parking lot and the school entrance. Cars were beginning to form a line down the driveway, but drop-off was proceeding in an orderly fashion. Mia and the head counselor, Brian, appeared to have everything under control.

  “I guess I can spare ten minutes,” she decided. “I still feel frazzled from all that running around. This’ll give me a chance to catch my breath. Me standing out front and looking like a crazy lady is not the first thing parents should see when they arrive to entrust their kids to our care.”

  Emily and I headed for the door. Faith fell in beside us.

  “That jittery feeling is adrenalin,” I told her. “It should fade soon. Those puppies must have given you quite a scare.”

  She nodded. “All I could think was, what if one of them got hit by a car? Or, even worse, caused someone to crash? It could have been a disaster.”

  A door at the far end of the hallway took us out the back of the building. We walked past the playground, with its swing sets, slides, and elaborate climbing equipment. Beyond it was the puppies’ pen.

  Six feet wide and ten feet long, the enclosure was constructed of tall, chain-link fencing. It looked solid and well-built. There were no gaps between the fence and the ground. Nor had the puppies dug any holes that I could see. But the door to the pen was standing half-open.

  Emily frowned as we approached. “I’m sure I closed that gate this morning.”

  Faith trotted on ahead of us and began to sniff along the outer edge of the pen’s wire fence. She’d never met Emily’s Dalmatians, but she was already forming an opinion about them.

  “Today you were probably more distracted than usual,” I pointed out. “And maybe you were in a hurry?”

  “I suppose it’s possible that I wasn’t careful enough.” She sounded annoyed with herself. “It’s opening day, and I had a million little details to think about. But could I really be such a scatterbrain that I didn’t remember to latch the gate?”

  “Let’s find out.”

  I examined the metal locking mechanism. It was simple enough. Just a horseshoe-shaped bar that slipped up so the gate could be opened, and then down again to hold it closed. I locked the gate and rattled it hard. It made some noise but held firm.

  “It’s pretty sturdy,” I told her. “I can’t imagine that the puppies were able to open it themselves. That’s the good news.”

  Emily shot me a sideways look. “And the bad news is that I’m an idiot. Right?”

  “I wasn’t going to put it exactly that way.”

  “I’m always telling the kids that honesty is the best po
licy.” She sighed. “I guess I should practice what I preach.”

  I rattled the gate again. “More good news. Now that you know the pen is secure, you can bring the puppies back out here, rather than letting them continue to tear up your apartment.”

  “That’s the best idea I’ve heard all day,” she said.

  We turned to head back to the school buildings. Her inspection of the pen complete, Faith came skipping along behind us.

  “I know the puppies have been here since spring,” I said. “But where did they come from?”

  “It’s a long story.” Emily didn’t sound happy about that. “Short version, they were a gift.”

  “Three at once?” I looked at her in surprise. “I’m not sure if that’s a gift or a burden.”

  “Believe me, that was my first thought too. But they’ve turned out to be a big hit with the children. You know, because of the movie? Everybody’s seen it. So the kids are excited to get to meet three live Dalmatians. And the puppies have been wonderful with them. Posey likes to lick noses.”

  “Cute name.”

  “Thanks. The other two are Poppy and Pansy. The nursery school was in session when they arrived, so I let the kids name them.”

  “It sounds as though they’re all bitches?”

  “Bitches?” Emily repeated. She looked shocked.

  “No insult intended,” I told her. “That’s the correct term for a female dog.”

  “It is? Really? Now I am insulted. Who do you suppose came up with that?”

  “I have no idea.” Actually, I’d never wondered about it before.

  “What’s the term for a male dog?”

  “Dog.” I grinned.

  “Seriously?”

  “I kid you not.”

  Emily shook her head. “There’s something wrong with that system.”

  I couldn’t argue with that.

  * * *

  My family lived in North Stamford too, so when Faith and I left Graceland camp, we were home in just ten minutes. Home was a colonial house in a quiet residential neighborhood. Two-acre zoning meant that none of our neighbors were close enough to be bothered by the fact that we had six dogs who often ran around outside in our enclosed yard.

  Six dogs hadn’t been the plan in the beginning. But somehow they just kept accumulating. Five members of our canine crew were black Standard Poodles, all retired show dogs. Eve was Faith’s daughter. My second husband, Sam, had brought two Poodles of his own to the marriage: an older bitch named Raven; and Tar, a gorgeous young male. Augie came along when Davey was old enough to have a dog of his own.

  Then there was Bud. He was a small, spotted dog of indeterminate lineage, whom Davey and I had found one day by the side of the road. Initially, we’d intended to get him healthy and find him a home. But Bud had other ideas. He’d immediately attached himself to Kevin, and that was that.

  Before I even turned in the driveway, I saw the maroon minivan parked beside the garage. Faith knew what that meant. She stood up on the seat and pressed her nose against the window. Her tail began to whip back and forth.

  Aunt Peg is here!

  “Yes, I know,” I said with a sigh.

  This will be fun!

  Of course Faith would think so. Aunt Peg loved all dogs without reservation. People were another matter. She and I had a complicated relationship, made all the more difficult by the fact that she refused to acknowledge any of the many ways she continued to drive me crazy.

  When Aunt Peg showed up unexpectedly, it usually meant she wanted something. And her requests seldom turned out to be simple. Or easy. Which was probably why she brought them to me—because I’d never successfully figured out how to say no to her.

  Aunt Peg was in her seventies, but the passage of time hadn’t affected either her energy level or her mental acuity. She was six feet tall and built like a brick wall. Her store of knowledge was vast, and she was insatiably curious about the things she didn’t know. Aunt Peg asked too many questions, believed strongly in her own opinions, and couldn’t abide foolish people.

  Some days it was a challenge just holding a conversation with her.

  A longtime breeder of superb Standard Poodles, Aunt Peg was now a respected dog show judge. She was approved for the Toy and Non-Sporting Groups, and lately she’d been eyeing several of the Herding breeds to add to her roster.

  I pulled the Volvo up beside Aunt Peg’s van. Faith quickly jumped out and ran to the gate that led to the backyard. Sam and Aunt Peg must have been outside on the deck. I briefly contemplated sneaking into the house through the garage. It was only wishful thinking, but I took a moment to enjoy the idea anyway.

  Having heard our arrival, the other Poodles began to gather near the fence. Then Bud came running over. He and Faith touched noses through the gate. The spotted dog began to pop up and down like a jack-in-the-box. He punctuated each leap with a shrill yip.

  Bud might have been a small dog, but he had a big bark.

  Sure, I thought. Tell the whole neighborhood I’m home.

  Now I had no choice but to go find out what Aunt Peg wanted this time.

  Chapter 3

  When I reached the gate, Sam was already standing on the other side. He shooed the dogs away so he could open it long enough for me to slip through.

  Big black Poodles eddied around both our legs as I looked up to thank him with a quick smile. Sam was six inches taller than me, and he filled out a T-shirt and shorts handsomely. His shaggy blond hair was swept back off his forehead. Blue eyes, much like Kevin’s, gazed down at me.

  “Did everything go okay at camp?” he asked. “I thought you’d be back half an hour ago.”

  “It was fine,” I said as I reached down to greet each dog individually. Tar pushed his way to the front of the group and nearly knocked me over. Eve hung back and waited for me to come to her. “There was just one minor complication.”

  “Oh?” Aunt Peg was on the deck, reclining on a lounge chair with a cup of Earl Grey tea within easy reach. She loved complications. I’d known that would pique her interest. “What happened?”

  “Here’s a better question,” I replied. “What are you doing here?”

  Aunt Peg straightened in her seat. “Is that any way to greet your favorite relative?”

  Favorite? Aunt Peg was giving herself entirely too much credit. I was pretty sure she wasn’t even in the top five. And that was before I started adding the Poodles to the list.

  “I think I’ll go inside and refill my coffee,” Sam said to no one in particular.

  “Please bring me a cup too?” I asked. Whatever Aunt Peg was up to now, it was sure to go down better accompanied by a strong jolt of caffeine.

  “Of course.” Sam disappeared with alacrity.

  Bud followed him inside. The little dog had been skinny when we brought him home. His weight was fine now, but Bud still never missed a chance to visit the kitchen. He seemed to believe food would magically fall into his mouth when he was there. And sometimes—especially when Kevin was around—it did.

  “So?” Aunt Peg prompted. “You were in the middle of a story.”

  “I was?”

  “Indeed. It was about complications.”

  “Oh.” I grinned. “I only said that to get your attention.”

  “Well, it worked. I’m all ears. Tell me the rest.”

  “It was about Dalmatian puppies.”

  “I see.” Now she looked skeptical. “Were there more than a hundred of them? And a woman with a white streak in her hair?”

  “No, just three.” I sat down in a rattan chair with a thick cushion on its seat. “And the woman is a blonde.”

  “That sounds like Emily Grace.” Sam reappeared with a mug of coffee in each hand. He’d added a splash of milk to mine, just the way I liked it. He settled into a matching chair beside me.

  I noted that Bud had remained behind in the kitchen. He was probably busy nosing around the pantry. The Poodles, meanwhile, had run off to play a game of tag around th
e trees in the yard.

  “Who’s Emily Grace?” Aunt Peg wanted to know. “And why does she have two first names?”

  “She’s the proprietor of Graceland Nursery School.” I took a welcome sip of coffee. “And Grace is her last name.”

  “And she has three Dalmatian puppies?” Aunt Peg asked. “All at once? Is she a breeder?”

  Of course that was the conclusion she would leap to. Most of Aunt Peg’s best friends bred purebred dogs.

  “No, nothing like that,” I said. “The puppies were a gift.”

  “From whom?”

  “She didn’t say.”

  “Aha.” Aunt Peg smiled. “A woman of mystery. Despite her name, I like her already.”

  “You would like Emily. She’s smart and capable. She runs her own business and mostly makes it look easy. You would call her a useful person.”

  Aunt Peg should have been pleased by that. Useful people were her favorite sort. Instead she snorted under her breath. She was probably reserving judgment until she could meet Emily and decide for herself.

  “The puppies’ names are Poppy, Posey, and Pansy,” I said. “The children named them.”

  “We can tell.” Sam grinned.

  “Three bitches then,” Aunt Peg said. “How old are they?”

  “They were youngsters back in April,” I told her. It was just after the Fourth of July now. “So around six months, I would guess.”

  “Has Emily made plans to get them spayed?”

  “I don’t know. I didn’t ask.”

  “Well, you should. Reproductive responsibility is important. Especially when dealing with puppies that apparently showed up out of nowhere.”

  “The puppies didn’t come from nowhere,” I told her. “They were a gift.”

  “So you said. But I’m not sure I believe it. Who would give someone three Dalmatian puppies at once? All the same age, so probably from the same litter. It seems much more likely that they escaped from somebody’s backyard and your Emily Grace took them in.”

  “As it happens,” I admitted, “they do seem to be accomplished escape artists. They got out of their pen this morning and ran out to the road in front of the school.”

  “The plot thickens,” Aunt Peg muttered.