Dog Sitters

by Rozsa Gaston

  "I've got to pack for my trip, but I'll walk with you over to the train station, so he gets used to you with me around," she agreed.

  Jack was impressed by the fact that she hadn't packed yet. Wasn't waiting until the last minute to pack a guy thing to do?

  "This one's his rabies tag." She fingered the dog tags on Percy's collar as she clipped on his leash. "It has the name and phone number of his vet on it, so if anything happens, just call him."

  "Nothing will happen." He squatted down to take a closer look at the tag. As he reached for it, his hand brushed against hers. It was small and warm, the fine bones like a bird's. Quickly, she stood and reached for her keys and the bag of dog food and toys sitting on the counter.

  She opened the door to the hallway, and Percy shot out like a cannonball. He barked excitedly.

  "Whoa, boy. Slow down there." Jack struggled to keep a firm grip on the leash.

  "He loves his walk." Hint smiled down at the schnoodle as she locked her door. A lock of hair curled behind her ear, pointing toward her profile. Her nose was straight and small, like the nose on the prairie girl doll he'd given his niece Marguerite for her last birthday.

  Outside, the early evening was warm, the air scented with dogwood blossoms. A light breeze fluttered the leaves of the oak tree across the street from her building. Was the tree laughing at him for his missteps of the evening before? They strolled toward Pondfield Road and the shops on their way to the railroad station. Percy stopped every few yards to sniff trees, lampposts and sidewalk smells.

  "What do you do when he… uh… takes care of business?" he asked.

  "I bring a bag and clean it up. They're pretty strict around here." Her voice didn't sound strict at all. It was filled with different tones that all seemed to be dancing with each other.

  Jack looked around, noting flower window boxes and planters, well-trimmed lawns and carefully tended gardens. It wouldn't do to kick doo-doo into the bushes in this town. An alarm would probably go off and a policeman appear out of nowhere with a summons.

  "What if you forget to bring a bag?" he followed up.

  "You won't forget, because you've got the bag dispenser attached to his leash."

  "Is that what this is?" Jack examined the red object in the shape of a fire hydrant hanging from the leash handle. The edge of a small blue plastic bag hung out from one side.

  "There're bags rolled up on a roller inside the hydrant. I just put in a refill, so you've got enough bags in there to get you through the next five days." Hint appeared to be scrutinizing him, perhaps unsure whether he would be careful to clean up after Percy or not. "Just be careful to pull out only one bag at a time. If you pull out more than one, you'll have a hard time getting the extras back into the holder."

  "Why's he going in circles?" Jack watched as the dog circled a spot on the lawn next to a doctor's office.

  "That's the cue that he's getting ready to… uh… perform his ablutions."

  "Nicely put." He was impressed. She had good diction.

  For the first time, she smiled at him. Her small mouth was shapely — it curved like the lips on a Greek comedy and tragedy mask, portending complexity. Was it just physiognomy, or did it signify something about her personality? He thought the latter, given the nuance of tones in her speaking voice, not to mention her taste in magazines.

  Jack studied Percy as the dog circled. "Should I tighten my grip when he does that or loosen it?"

  "Keep it loose," Hint said. "Pretend you haven't even noticed what he's up to. If you try to rush him, he'll get nervous. The only way he'll get down to business is if you don't hurry him."

  "Is that a metaphor for life?" Jack asked. Her explanation had seemed apt for a few other important life processes. He turned his face away so she couldn't see the color he could feel creeping up his neck.

  "You tell me. Is it?" She giggled.

  Was she laughing at him? She had just put her finger on one of his biggest challenge areas: not rushing. It seemed women needed to take everything slowly, including the most important things. It looked as if canines needed to take things slowly, too.

  Percy finally appeared to find the perfect spot over which he squatted and did a ridiculous-looking side to side dance step. Jack tried not to notice.

  "What do you do that allows you to walk a dog three times a day? Do you work from home?" he asked her.

  "Yes." She narrowed her eyes at him until they looked like raisins. "I illustrate children's, coloring, and sticker books."

  "Do you work for a publishing house?"

  "Yes, but not just one. I'm freelance, so I work for a few different houses on a per-project basis," she explained, brushing a strand of wavy hair behind her right ear.

  "Wow. That sounds like fun. How do you get ideas for your characters?"

  "That's a good question." She paused, lost in thought. "I spend a lot of time looking through art books, old fairytale books, magazines, art exhibits — I get ideas from nature, too." She smiled wistfully. "Going on walks and looking at trees helps."

  "What kind of tree do you like best?" he asked, hoping it was an oak. His niece Marguerite had given names to the three largest trees in his backyard, the summer he'd moved in, three years earlier. The maple tree guarding the boundary of his yard was Sky; the chestnut tree in the middle, Monkey; and the tallest of them all was Prayer, an oak. When he'd asked her why she'd wanted to call it Prayer, she'd said it was because the tree looked like it was praying for the people in his house. Ever since then, he'd had a feeling oak trees were looking out for him.

  At that moment, Percy finished his exertions, so Jack fumbled to unroll one of the plastic bags from its holder.

  Hint reached to help him. As he held the container while she pulled off the bag, Percy spotted a squirrel and took off.

  The leash yanked free from the bag dispenser in Jack's hands. Both Hint and Jack called to Percy as he ran from them. The dog paid no mind and disappeared around the corner.

  "Percy. Get back here. Come here now," he shouted, chasing after the schnoodle.

  "Don't yell at him. You'll scare him," she ordered as she raced behind him. "Percy, come back. Come on, boy."

  This time, her musical voice struck Jack as sing-songish and lacking in authority. What dog would pay any attention to someone who called to it like that? She might as well be singing a lullaby.

  Rounding the corner, he spotted Percy twenty yards ahead of him, wildly barking at a squirrel halfway up the oak tree he'd hidden behind the evening before. Jack ran toward the schnoodle. As he was right at the point of reaching down to grab the dog's leash, the squirrel jumped into a neighboring tree branch, and Percy took off after him.

  "Wait. That's not how to catch him," Hint scolded as she caught up. "You have to be gentle. Just wait for him to stop chasing the squirrel. Then he'll come back."

  "What if he doesn't? I'm not taking any chances. Percy — get back here now," he boomed out in a deep baritone.

  People on the sidewalk turned to see who was making all the noise."Here, boy." Hint squatted beside Jack, speaking to Percy in a soft, low voice. "Come on, boy. Come back to me. Come on, sweetie. Here, Percy."

  The dog showed no sign of responding. Instead, he ran across the street as the squirrel leapt from tree branch to telephone pole then ran across the wire to the next pole.

  "Percy, get over here now," Jack shouted, running across the street after the dog.

  "Don't chase him. You'll only make it worse," she yelled.

  Jack realized the dog was unlikely to come to him, since they'd not had a chance to form a bond. But someone had to do something. He glanced back at Hint on the other side of the street. She was sitting on her heels, her eyes closed. Was she meditating or something? She was in another world, apparently. A fairyland, no doubt.

  "Hey, what are you doing? We've got a dog to catch. Come on," he yelled. Turning back to the direction Percy had gone, he couldn't see the dog at all. Meanwhile, the shadows were getting long. Soon i
t would be dark.

  "That's not the way to catch him. Stop scaring him off," she huffed, getting to her feet.

  "Then what do you suggest? Sitting there and wishing he'll return?" He couldn't believe it. Why was this loon falling to pieces when they needed to catch the dog now?

  "I'm not 'making wishes,' jerk." She glared at him, her eyes blazing. "I'm attracting him back to me, when he finally realizes he isn't going to catch his squirrel."

  "Right. While you're sitting there, I'll go chase him down." He turned on his heel and stormed off, fuming at being called a jerk. Why couldn't she help him instead of just sitting there… like a jerk?

  "You aren't going to catch him that way," she called after him, her voice indignant. "He doesn't know you. He won't respond to you yelling at him."

  "Yeah? Then why aren't you trying to catch him yourself? He'll respond to you. Isn't he your Snuggle Bunny? Get off your duff and find him," he roared.

  Hint's face blanched. Immediately, he regretted his outburst. Why didn't women play fair? She could call him a jerk, but he couldn't yell at her? That was unfair.

  Then why did he feel like a heel?

  ****

  "How do you know that name? Who told you that?" she demanded, outraged.

  How had Jack known one of her private nicknames for Percy? It was almost as if he had spied on them. Standing up, she put her hands on her hips. He'd blown her best strategy for catching the dog. Now all she could do was call to Percy and hope he'd respond. But her neighborhood was not his home, and once he'd turned a few corners, he might not know how to retrace his steps.

  She ran down the street in the direction he'd gone, as much to find him as to get away from the boorish man behind her, who would only scare the schnoodle further.

  Turning the corner of Meadow Lane and Kraft Avenue, she peered down the street toward the fire station. A few houses stood on the other side of the street, behind which a small creek meandered down to the dog run. The dense woods where he'd gotten away from her the day before were that way, as well as the railroad tracks. She shuddered to think what might happen if he attempted to cross them.

  "Percy, come back to me. Come back." Of course, her voice sounded stressed and anxious.

  Nervously, she looked over her shoulder to make sure Jack was nowhere within earshot. She finally spotted his tall frame at the other end of the street. As she made him out in the burgeoning twilight, he called for the dog in a loud, angry voice — exactly the wrong tone to get the canine to come back.

  "Percy, boy. Snuggle Boy, come back to me. Come back, boy," she sang out, trying to counteract the bad karma Jack was sending out behind her.

  She checked the cemetery behind the firehouse then jogged down to the dog run. There, a handful of dog owners stood quietly, enjoying the remains of the year's final day of spring.

  "Have you seen a small black and gray schnoodle? I'm trying to find my friend's dog," she explained to a man and woman watching a yellow Labrador play with a wheat-colored terrier.

  "Haven't seen him."

  "Sorry."

  Was he in the woods? Or down by the river? Either possibility bode ill. Over the next half hour, she searched both locations. It was dark by the time she made her way back to the dog run by way of the stream. Her heart was heavy, thinking of how poorly she'd looked after her friend's dog. What should she do next?

  Why had that jerk shown up in the first place, with no idea of how to handle a dog, never mind dog-sit one? He hadn't even known what the doggy bag dispenser had been and had fumbled trying to get the bag out of it, losing his grip on Percy's leash. What a cretin.

  Then she thought back to the day before when she herself had lost her grip on the schnoodle's leash. It could happen to anyone. The trick was to get the dog to want to come back to her. She'd succeeded earlier, but this time Jack had ruined her chances of luring Percy back with his harsh, loud voice and threatening height. The dog didn't know him from Adam and wasn't going to respond to a tall, strange male yelling at him.

  "Hint, hey, is that you? Any sign of him?" Jack's voice called down to her from the bridge above, connecting the dog run to the town's soccer field. He no longer sounded harsh, just tired and slightly abashed.

  "It's me. No sign of him. I looked in the woods." Where I lost him earlier today. "And asked folks at the dog run, but nobody's seen him."

  "We've got to decide what to do. Who do you call for a lost dog? Is there a town dogcatcher or something?"

  "We should probably call the police."

  "Do you know what their number is?"

  "Not offhand, but the police station is down by town hall, a block away from my building."

  "Let's drop by." He took her arm to help her up the embankment.

  She didn't resist. Upon reaching the bridge, a pent-up sigh escaped her. Warm, stinging tears welled up behind her eyes. She blinked quickly, trying to regain her composure.

  But the events of the day had been too much for her. A small, low sob escaped her lips as she stared into the dark, gurgling stream below.

  "I know how you feel," he said.

  "No, you don't," she shot back.

  "Yes, I do." He put a tentative hand on her shoulder.

  "I don't know what to do next," she whispered. Yes you do. Get on the plane, go to your conference, impress the artistic director with your portfolio, and get the contract. What she needed to do didn't jibe with what needed to be done now. Tears of frustration and pity slid down her face at the thought of Percy outside alone all night long. She brushed them away.

  "I don't either," he whispered back.

  "That doesn't help."

  "Yes it does." His voice was firm.

  "How so?" She shook his hand from her shoulder.

  "We're both in the same boat," he offered.

  "I don't want to be in your boat," she retorted.

  "Two people can bail out a boat faster than one. We'll figure this out."

  The hand was back on her shoulder, warm and firm. Despite herself, she felt comforted.

  "I'm supposed to be packing to get on a plane, not bailing out a boat." She thought bitterly of her scheduled meeting on Thursday with Derek Simpson of Story Tales Press. How could she go to Punta Cana with Percy missing? "What are Nicole and Tom going to say when they find out their dog's missing?"

  "They're not going to find out. We'll find him," he reassured her.

  "Sure we will," she said without conviction, fresh tears welling up. She brushed them away, angrily wiping her face. "What if we don't?"

  "Ye of little faith," he responded, surprising her. "Come on. Let's go over to the police station and see if they can help."

  The hand on her shoulder moved to her upper arm as he propelled her in the direction of town. She wanted to shrug it off, but she couldn't. The firmness of his grip was too comforting. Against her will, she relaxed into the warm, muscular fingers and allowed him to guide her in the dark.

  Chapter Two

  "Sorry. I can't help you with a lost dog. You'll have to call town hall tomorrow morning and ask for Joe Pritchett. He's the town dogcatcher." The sergeant at the desk looked bored. "The dog will probably show up when he gets hungry enough. They usually do."

  "Thanks for your help," Hint said, her voice just shy of a whisper. She turned to Jack as they exited the side door at town hall that housed the police station.

  "Now what?" She was out of ideas.

  "Do you mind if I come back to your place for a minute?"

  "I… uh… no. I guess not. We need to figure out what to do next."

  "Right. And two heads are better than one." Then he paused. "What time is your flight tomorrow?"

  "My flight? 2:15 p.m." She looked squarely at him. "I need to be on it."

  "I'll find him," he told her. "I'm the one who dropped the leash, and I'm the one who's got to get him back."

  She hesitated. The thought of her own mishap with Percy the day before gave her a twinge of conscience. "It's not just your fa
ult. I — I dropped his leash earlier today in the woods and he ran off. It happens."

  "When he ran off, how'd you get him to come back?" Jack asked.

  "I sat really still and sang a song to him," she explained. "Then I closed my eyes, and when I opened them, he was standing in front of me."

  "Wow. Sounds like a fairy tale." He looked skeptical. "Why didn't you try it again when we lost him?"

  "I was trying it, but you yelled at me to get off my duff," she retorted angrily, marching ahead.

  "Hey." He ran to catch up with her. "I'm sorry. I just thought you weren't doing anything. Like you'd closed up shop or something."

  "Wrong. Being still and quiet is doing something," she said heatedly. "It's being calm so the dog will come back to you when he's done chasing his squirrel."

  "It didn't really work, did it?"

  "It didn't work because you screwed it up, okay?" She crossed her arms in front of her and tried to outpace him.

  "I just thought we should do something," he said.

  "Men always think they should do something. Then they screw everything up."

  "Oh really? And what about not doing anything? What's that accomplishing?"

  "Like I said, I was doing something, but you didn't have the patience to back off and let me do it." She was angry and disappointed. If only Percy had run off a minute after she'd handed him over to Jack, she wouldn't have to feel guilty about flying to Punta Cana the next day where she would meet with Derek Simpson and get the job of her dreams. She quickly brushed aside the ungenerous thought.

  "So what do you intend to do now?" he asked.

  "Go home and think," she snapped back. "And maybe it would be better if you don't come, since you'll get in the way."

  "Get in the way of what?" he demanded. "We need to work this out together. Stop being ridiculous."

  "Who's being ridiculous? Who didn't even know what a doggy bag dispenser was? You know nothing about dogs."

  "You're right. I don't. I didn't even want to do this," Jack blurted out.

  "Then why did you tell Tom you would?" she shot back, disgusted.