by Sarah Gay
It was as if someone had hit a panic button on his forehead. Kai began stammering as he rubbed his hands nervously on his thighs, his pale blue jeans rippling at his touch. Annie instinctively grabbed one of his trembling hands for a moment, then released, and scooted back slightly.
“I didn’t mean to be that forward,” she said, holding his gaze. His eyes told a quiet story, a tale of a young sensitive boy who was always adored by his mother, so much so that he remained latched at her side. His computer became his playmate, the basement, his den.
“I’ve never had any real relationship goals.” He looked over at Mr. Famous. “I’d be happy if someone like you took as good a care of me as her favorite pet.”
“Seriously?” she said with interest. “You would never actually want to be treated like a dog, would you? Doesn’t sound a little disparaging to you?”
“My guess, and not to sound rude, is that you most likely treat this little guy better than most of your acquaintances, people who are not on your meta-friend list.”
“What are meta-friends?”
“No idea. Thought it sounded author worthy.”
Annie laughed. She had made a promising choice in her Mr. Right. He was honest, funny, and cute. But most importantly, he was begging for her to train him. What kind of awful person would she be if she didn’t throw a sweet playful puppy a bone?
Annie sat on her couch, the white velvet drapes drawn to limit her distractions. Annie’s index fingers rubbed the raised dots on the f and j keys. In this position, she mastered automatic typing, which allowed for her fingers to swiftly glide over the keys without any conscious effort. If someone were to give her a blank keyboard and ask her to identify the letters, she’d be lost. But with those little dots, and whatever triggered the memory placement in her head to be able to type a hundred words a minute, it just worked.
Normally it worked. Mr. Famous did not understand the New York timetable, however, and nuzzled his nose under Annie’s left hand, soliciting a scratch behind the ears. Putting him on the floor was futile. He would just jump back up. Putting him in her bedroom? Not a good idea, he would just whine and scratch at the knotty alder door. She needed Keira, the capricious kindergartener. Chocolate chip cookies would work.
Annie went to the kitchen and pulled out an emergency roll of ready-made chocolate chip cookie dough. She looked up at the antique cuckoo clock. It was almost 11:30a.m. At 11:50a.m, Keira would be walking home from school on the sidewalk in front of Annie’s house. She didn’t waste a second, oven heated, cookies on the sheet and in the oven in less than five. She had the cookies on her windowsill by 11:45, five minutes to spare and the aroma filling the street proved effective.
A quiet, steady knock ended when Annie opened the door to an animated young lady and her accomplice.
“Hey there cutie. Where’s your mom today?”
Keira motioned to the little brown eyed boy next to her. “Mom said I could walk home with Morgan today. He’s my boyfriend.”
Annie coughed. “Your boyfriend?”
“I guess boys just like us. Right, Annie? You have a boyfriend.”
“Not today, no. And how is it that you have a boyfriend, and I don’t?”
Keira giggled, pushing her hands out, as if some large object had just invaded her personal space. “I need to call my mom, and tell her that I’m here.”
“Great. Do you want to have some cookies and milk, and play with Mr. Famous for a bit?”
“Go ahead,” she said, holding her arm out straight. “Twist my arm.”
“You are one crazy, funny little girl,” Annie said, pretending to twist Keira’s arm, but giving her a tickle instead.
Keira raised her wrist to her mouth, tapping the oversized watch with her pinky. “Mom, can I stay at Annie’s, and have cookies, and play with Mr. Famous? Please, please, please.”
A clear voice replied, “Sure honey, but be home in an hour. I miss my little girl.”
“K. I’ll call you when we’re leaving.”
“Wow. I didn’t even have a phone until I was sixteen.”
“I’m sorry, Annie,” Keira said with a pouty face, her bottom lip extending nearly to her chin, her brown curls bouncing to the music of her laughter. “That must have been devastating,”
“Come get some cookies, you silly kiddos. I need to get back to work, or these will be the last cookies you eat this year.”
“When are we making your Christmas caramels? Yum, those are sooo good.”
“Soon, promise.”
Chapter 5
With her synopsis safely resting in her sent folder, Annie was now desperate to start her project. She glanced down at her phone, which was resting safely in the cup holder of Mr. Famous’ stroller. Grand invention, doggie strollers.
It was nearly two o’clock. She picked up her pace along the brittle sidewalk. The cement pathway traversing this part of Healdsburg had been laid decades prior. It now crackled and peeled with her every step. Being slightly more industrial, it lacked the immaculate upkeep of the more frequented areas.
The blend of dry cleaning agents and shoe glue was beyond unpleasant. It bordered on noxious. The small, honest, blue collar establishments kept a low profile in the increasingly biodynamic city. Fortunately, the odor was moderately contained, and, by the time Annie reached the doggie training facility, the air was pleasantly saturated with the scent of freshly steamed grapes.
Annie approved of the training facility before advancing to the front door. Three lemon trees lined the side fence. Annie walked around to the back yard of the converted mid-1900s warehouse. A variety of doggie exercise equipment was strategically placed around the field, including a bar and circular jumps, weaving poles, and what looked like a network of wooden ramps.
Annie’s phone vibrated in the cup holder.
“Hello.”
“Annie! It’s the girls. You know who.”
“Oh, hey. I haven’t heard from you three in forever. How’s city life?”
“Gritty. But we have a chance to come up and see you tomorrow.”
“You’re coming to see me?” Annie said, a little perplexed.
“We have appointments at a few wineries. Can we meet you for a quick coffee in the morning beforehand?”
“Sure. I’ll text you the address of a great café. See you there at eight”
“How ‘bout nine?”
“Nine it is,” Annie responded. She looked at Mr. Famous. “What do you think they want? They’ve never been nice to me.”
What were they up to? Were they working on a story about wine country scandals and needed her assistance in establishing trust with the locals. Karina, Joyce and Marley, the fabulous three university news anchors who always knew who to sweet talk, or sabotage, to get ahead. Annie was the recipient of sabotage on more than one occasion. Of course, she could never prove that they had rigged her mic during the auditions to anchor, even though she had seen them messing with the audio just before she interviewed.
They had ridiculed her decision to write fiction. They called her a sell-out. Perhaps she was, being that her current income was at least twice what theirs were as journalists for the paper. But, maybe they weren’t as nasty as they had been in the past. Perhaps, they had had a change of heart. She would give them the benefit of the doubt.
“Welcome!” A cheery voice came from the front step. “You must be Annie. I’m Kate, the owner.”
“You were expecting me?”
“Paxton and Charlie just went out back to have some bonding time. Come on in.”
Annie held out her credit card as she walked in through the front entry.
“Let’s see if we’re a good fit first.”
Annie took Mr. Famous out of his stroller and followed the owner, a no make-up, no-nonsense, jeans and t-shirt, direct hitter. Annie could see why she and Paxton got along. Kate walked liked a cowboy, her legs swinging side to side, as if she knew all of life’s secrets. But Kate’s hair threw Annie off, not matching her
gruff exterior. It cascaded in beautiful corn-silk curls, reaching halfway down her back.
Annie reached down to her side. “I’ve got my doggie training pouch on my belt, my clicker, and lots of yummy treats. We’re ready for training.”
“And, who do we have here? A most attractive terrier.”
“This is Mr. Famous,” Annie said, trying to contain Mr. Famous’ wiggles. He had discovered the scent of former pupils, and wanted to investigate.
“Follow me to our training room. We can discuss your objectives.”
Kate led Annie to an open warehouse room with a painted cement floor. The walls were the same shade of gray as the floor, but with three horizontal honeybee-yellow stripes.
“What is your end goal, Annie?”
“Well, he’s fabulous at sitting, but he tends to chew everything in sight. And, if the weather is unpleasant, he refuses to use the bathroom outside. He doesn’t have accidents here, but when I take him to a colder climate, it’s a problem.”
“Sounds typical. We can address that. What else?”
“I would also like him to come when I call. If there are no other distractions, he’ll come. But, there always seems to be a neighbor’s cat, a noisy car, a flying beetle.”
“Anything else?”
“On a deeper note.” Annie linked her hands behind her back by her thumbs as she tapped her left foot nervously. “I want him to respond to my emotional needs. Are you certified to train dogs for therapy?”
“There are three types of certificates— Emotional, Therapy, and Service. If you’re looking to have him certified as an emotional support dog for anxiety, depression, etc., then we could do the basic training, then you would need to get a letter from a medical doctor. If you were hoping to certify him as a therapy dog to enter hospitals, or rehabilitation centers, we can do that. To have him certified as a service dog, you would need to qualify as disabled, go through the standard training, then additional training for the specific disability. Service dogs are not considered pets.
Agreed, thought Annie. Not pets, people. Annie didn’t want to mention— that, in a moment of weakness, Mr. Famous had already been certified through an online program. They just asked a few questions, and, voilà, free flying. It was time to get his certificate authenticated, and eliminate the stab of guilt she felt every time she boarded a plane.
“Paxton is the expert therapy trainer. Charlie went through military training in explosive-detection. He was an MWD, Military Working Dog, but developed hip dysplasia, not unusual for his breed, and level of physical activity. He went through physical therapy, thrived in the medical environment, and is now a therapy dog.
“They can do physical therapy on a dog?”
“Yep. And now they visit the hospital at least once a week. Although, I must warn you, that for Mr. Famous to become certified as a therapy dog, he must be suited for it. He should possess a calming personality that is not easily spooked. I’d say Mr. Famous has great potential. You’ve come to the right place. We’ll need to start with the basic commands first.”
Calming personality, thought Annie, not my Mr. Famous. He was so electric. But Kai, with his soft sea foam green eyes and gentle voice, he would respond splendidly to therapy training.
Annie closed her eyes. The waves crash against the shore. Kai is barely visible through the fog. He stands out on a distant rock, raising a conch shell to his mouth to create the sound of a fog horn.
“Annie, that is the sound you will hear when we are switching training activities. Are you okay?”
“Yep,” she said, perking up.
“Great. Get out your clicker. Now, it’s very important that we give abundant praise during training. This clicker will formulate a type of Pavlov association for your pet with a positive stimulus, his treat.”
Annie held up her bag of treats.
Kate continued, “He will start to associate his good behavior with the sound, so timing is everything. Keywords are Pavlov, praise, and positive reinforcement. You must click the moment he does the desired behavior.”
“Got it.”
“First exercise, will be for him to look you in the eye. If we don’t have our dog’s attention, we don’t have our dog. It’s imperative that we master the watch, or look command. We will start in the sit position.”
Annie motioned for Mr. Famous to sit, then praised him with a treat. “Good boy.”
“Great. Now, from your hand command of sit, bring your finger up your face. And when he makes eye contact, click, and give him his reward.”
Annie gave the hand command to sit, then raised her finger. When she caught his eye, she pressed the thumb clicker held behind her back.
Mr. Famous whined, refusing his treat. He wiggled on the floor for a moment, then returned to his seated position. Annie again raised her hand to her face, then released the click. Mr. Famous now scurried under her legs, his tail hiding under his body.
“What am I doing wrong?”
“I think he has sensitive ears. I’ll need to find you an adjustable clicker. Don’t use this one anymore. I don’t want him to associate pain with looking at you.”
Annie stroked Mr. Famous’ ears as she cuddled him in her arms. “Oh, sweetie. I’m so sorry.” He refused to snuggle into her. Training was a flop. How was she ever going to do this?
“Don’t be discouraged. Dogs have personalities, just as we do. We first train ourselves, then our dogs. We are all being trained here, and Mr. Famous will be a star pupil in no time.”
“We train ourselves?”
Kate sighed. “Would you say parents discipline their children, or train them? Personally, I prefer the word train, or teach. We will teach Mr. Famous to be the best companion you could imagine.”
“I can imagine quite a lot.”
The storm door leading to the exterior exercise area slammed shut. Annie turned to see Paxton running through the hall.
“Kate, can I borrow your truck? I need to get to the elementary school immediately.”
Without hesitation, Kate pulled the neon lanyard from around her neck, and threw it over Annie’s head to Paxton.
As her eyes met Paxton’s, Annie felt a surge of heat originating in her toes. The warmth flowed up through her body, causing her neck to flush.
Within a minute, he was in the truck, driving away.
“What was that?” questioned Annie, as Paxton and Charlie sped down the road.
“I would trust that man with my life. No need to ask.”
Annie pulled the heated blanket over her legs. Her seasoned, white leathered couch had grown as soft as suede. She turned on the evening news. Habit confined her to reading the morning headlines on her phone. The news dampened her spirits, often preventing her from a restful sleep. This evening was an exception to her morning news rule. She planned to uncover the reason for Paxton’s hasty departure.
The news anchor began, “A 19-year-old man was arrested after police allege he contacted school officials on the district’s website, threatening to blow up an elementary school. No physical evidence was located on the school grounds, or at the suspect’s home. The suspect was booked into jail earlier this afternoon. The school in question has been cleared by local and federal officers.”
“Could you be more vague?” Annie complained.
A video clip was patched in. It showed several officers dressed in their protective suits exiting the school building. They were followed by three dogs and their handlers. Paxton and Charlie led the pack.
Chapter 6
Chocolate vapors sizzled in Annie’s mouth. Dark liquid washed through her throat and into her chest, warming her like an afternoon bath. The corner café made Annie’s hot chocolate to order. The result was similar to the hot cocoa that she had fallen in love with in Rome, served in a tiny espresso cup. Rich, deep, decadent.
Annie closed her eyes, and was once again on the narrow streets of Rome. As she sips her hot chocolate, a canary yellow, followed by a crimson-red sports car, zips through
the one-lane, cobblestone streets. The tall brick buildings prevent the sun's light from reaching below the 10th floor. Hot cocoa is Annie’s sun, and it is marvelous.
“Almost Awake Annie,” Karina’s voice squawked.
Annie opened her eyes to Karina, Joyce, and Marley hovering over her.
“Hey! I’m glad you could come,” Annie said, standing to greet them.
Joyce reached for Mr. Famous. She was petite and pretty, but with enough plastered make-up to put an infomercial host to shame. She picked Mr. Famous up out of his stroller, disturbing his morning nap. “He’s perfect for you, Annie, all charm, and no bite.”
“Thanks,” Annie replied, not sure if that had been a compliment, or an insult. “My dad was worried about me living alone, and insisted on my getting a guard dog. Imagine his surprise,” she laughed. “All I need to protect myself is a little forewarning, which Mr. Famous has perfected. My bear spray is prepped and ready. If it can stun a grizzly, it can knock down anything on two feet. So, you girls hitting a few wineries today?”
Marley, the tall, lanky one, answered, “Yes. Hope you don’t mind us running out on you, but we only have a few hours to get sloshed. You know the life of a journalist; all work, with a side of wicked play. I envy your decision to leave the field of journalism. The fun-loving lifestyle seems to fit you better.”
“Annie,” Joyce, chimed in, “are you still playing with fiction? I heard you were writing romance, of all things. You’ve been well trained in serious journalism. Don’t you want to have an impact on the world? Leave that trash to the ignorant, and join us at the Herald. Unless, you don’t think you can hack it.” Her eyebrows raised as she challenged Annie.
Karina, round bellied, as slow on her feet as in her speech and wit, but quick with her pen, nodded her head. “Maybe you should keep to your simple life. Long days of research, interviews, and then typing all night. Not for the faint of heart.”