Blind Tasting

by A. C. Houston

  Stefano nods. "Some unusual confluence of factors came together to produce this striking similarity. Not something you would expect for every vintage from these two wineries, but it happened here."

  Cory and Dawn are invited to try the wines, and they agree with the sommelier's call.

  Stefano smiles at Doug. "If you don't need me further, I'm training a new assistant on my cellar inventory today."

  When Stefano leaves, Doug places a call to Leonard Pillar, who agrees to sample the Paso Robles zinfandel.

  "In case it matters, you should know that my girlfriend is a good friend of Leonard Pillar," Cory tells him, wanting to avoid any potential conflict of interest.

  So, Julie has officially become the significant other of her best friend, Dawn notes.

  "I think we've seen significant proof of what your dog is capable of. It's remarkable." Doug makes his pitch. "You're riding a wave of success right now, but there's a limit to what one man and one dog can do. We'd like to take Blind Tasting to the next level, provide funding to ramp up the operation. We know others will make you an offer, so we're coming in high for an exclusive arrangement. And you should definitely continue the blog, but we'll need to bring in additional management for the ramp up."

  Cory sees where this is heading. "You want us to keep Blind Tasting as a business, only expand the operation. You don't want outright ownership of the training methodologies?"

  "Our deal flow generally involves growing proven startups."

  Dawn speaks her mind. "It won't be the same, Cory, after all that's happened. You proved it could be done. It's what you love. You don't want to be a manager and neither do I."

  Cory looks at Rob, who shrugs. "Hey, I'm just the wheel man. It's your call."

  Cory shakes his head. "My future with wine is going to be as a consumer only."

  "I'm sorry to hear this," Doug says, looking at Cory in frank disappointment.

  Bob has an idea. "We should contact Dave Winchel at Heubler."

  "You mean broker a deal?" Doug asks.

  "In this case it makes sense." Bob looks at Snoots. "What price would you be willing to accept for him?"

  Cory laughs, a little incredulously. "He's not for sale. At any price." He reaches over and pets the dog as if to underscore this point.

  Snoots pants happily, looking around the room.

  "Scaling up will require training more dogs," Doug remarks. He looks directly at Cory. "How quickly could you train other dogs and human trainers? Using your methods."

  Now they are throwing him a challenge, lighter fluid for his intellectual fire.

  "That's an interesting question. Snoots is extremely intelligent and we're deeply bonded. Both of those probably matter a lot. The big step is to get the dog to understand what the task is. His gift of smell can basically do the rest. I'll make a rough guess that if I can't train a dog to do the preliminary exact matching within two months, he's probably not trainable."

  Doug looks at Bob. "Call Dave."

  There is real interest at Heubler, a major wine distributor. If Doug and Bob can deliver on their pitch, they've definitely got a buyer.

  Chapter Fifty-Six

  Draeger's. "That romaine looks beautiful."

  Dawn turns at the sound of a female voice and sees Julie standing behind her, looking at the bins of fresh field lettuce that have just been set out.

  Dawn holds up a head of the lettuce and a bunch of organic carrots. "I'm tired of eating out of vending machines at the lab."

  "We should all go to that new Laotian place in Mountain View. I think Cory could use a break."

  "How's he doing?"

  "The border collie got dropped this morning. The trainer couldn't keep him still long enough to focus on the wine. His herding instincts were dominating everything."

  "So we're down to three dogs?"

  Julie nods. "And Cory says the grad student in behavioral psychology isn't working out as a trainer. She's more interested in the abstract process of imprinting than in bonding and training her dog. You didn't hear that from me though."

  "What are you up to these days?" Dawn asks as they wander past bins of golden melons.

  "I've sold two paintings at a small gallery in the Mission District. The buyer really wanted 'Stargazers', but I told him it was already taken." Julie laughs. "The truth is, I've decided not to sell it."

  "I'm glad." Dawn has seen the painting and really is glad.

  "Cory bought me a 3-D modeling program and a digital drawing tablet. So, I'm drawing a lot with that and he's explaining all the features I can use for different effects. I'm thinking about composition from a totally different viewpoint. When he finishes training the new dogs we're going to tile his bathroom floor in an Escher pattern."

  "The fish and the flying birds?" Dawn guesses.

  Julie nods. "I'm going to cut out the patterns in black and white tiles and we'll figure out how to lay them together."

  Dawn glances teasingly at her. "Can you paint a tromp l’oeil of a tropical beach on the wall of my office, while you’re at it?"

  Julie laughs. “Caribbean or South Pacific?”

  Cory's House. Snoots' eyes follow Julie as she walks from the kitchen to the dining table. He watches her pick up her laptop and her large, black portfolio. His ears perk up as she picks up her small handbag and her keys. He bounds up from his observation post on the living room floor and trots up to her, his eyes alert with anticipation.

  "You want to go?"

  That's all he needs. He moves past her to block her exit and announces his wish in a series of short barks, tail wagging.

  As she slips his collar on, Snoots begins to bark anew. Someone is knocking at the front door.

  Julie opens it to see Becca standing there. The two women express unmasked surprise at each other.

  "Oh. I was looking for Cory," Becca explains, as though Julie were a trespasser.

  Julie registers the look and her curved lips convey a slightly contemptuous smile.

  "He's not home. Can I help?"

  Becca tosses her long hair to one side. "I wanted to return this to him. He lent it to me." She holds up a thick paperback; its title refers to chaos theory.

  Becca crouches down and pets Snoots, who is wagging his tail, but accepting her attention somewhat indifferently. A ride in the car is what's really on his mind, and he looks at Julie with fervent eyes, pushing his nose against her affectionately and impatiently.

  Julie could kiss that dog right now.

  "We were just leaving," Julie says, holding her hand out for the book.

  Becca moves past her and puts the book on the table just inside the door. "He was so sweet to lend it to me."

  "I'll tell him."

  "Do you live here?"

  Julie stares incredulously at Becca. "Yes, I do."

  Becca turns and walks back to her white Miata parked on the street, noting the black BMW which now occupies Cory's driveway.

  Mission District San Francisco. "I like this a lot." Rudi Bianchi holds the color print up to see the seemingly thousands of shades of deep green in brighter light.

  "What I really want is a slowly undulating animation of the forms. I can't do that on a canvas. I can show you a working model on my laptop."

  Julie pops open her PowerMac and shows him the current version of her graphics art concept. A tangle of elongated, twisting quasi-human forms entwine and release slowly, like regal, fluid underwater plants. The motions are gradient, intricate and soothing, the colors pass from pale chartreuse to emerald to almost black-green, with filtering strands of golden-white reflecting off the moving shapes.

  Rudi, who is the owner of this small gallery, can't take his eyes away from the watery animation.

  "It's mesmerizing," he tells her. "What do you call it?"

  She smiles. "Informally, my seaweed people. Officially, it's one of a set of four called Tempos. This one is 'Green Adagio’. I'm starting on 'Blue Allegro' and there will also be 'Orange Largo' and 'Violet Viva
ce'."

  "You don't see blues and violets as carrying more weight, a slower pace than orange?"

  "I'm thinking of the spectrum of light. There's higher energy at the violet end."

  "Ah."

  Julie laughs. "I'm involved with a serious geek and he's becoming a big influence on my art. I'm interested in incorporating the physics of nature into my work more."

  "He's the one in Stargazers?"

  "Yes. Rudi, I want to scale this up, but also keep the high resolution. I see it as a stand-alone work on a large digital display, you know sort of like those digital photo setups. But, I'm imagining a flat digital display about ten feet by twelve feet and frameless. Is there something like that?"

  "Red Angel Studios up the street can probably build you custom displays. I don't know what they'd cost. Maybe Geek Boy has some ideas?"

  Julie laughs at his little barb. "He's really swamped with work right now. But, I'll ask him. He loves a technical challenge." She points to the screen of her PowerMac. "If I can put this together, are you game?"

  "Oh, I'm game."

  Julie walks back to her car parked a few blocks from the gallery, anxious to let Snoots out for a quick break before they drive back to Menlo Park. Rudi prefers not to have pets in the gallery and, with the annoying surprise of Becca, she forgot his leash so she couldn't tie Snoots up in front of the gallery.

  It's clear that Becca was hoping to see Cory today. What does she want from him at this point? Is she after him again because of his sudden fame with Blind Tasting? Julie forces the irritating thought from her mind.

  As she continues walking, something seems wrong. It's her car, it should be right here. She remembers that green Prius with the small dent on the hood, but now there is a gray Saab parked in front of it, not her black BMW.

  She stares at the Saab, still resisting its glaring reality. With growing uneasiness she looks up and down the street and then begins walking, looking for her familiar black coupe. Surely it's here.

  It's nowhere. Could it have been towed? Her spirits rise, then crash; it's a legal parking spot this time of day.

  A bolt of clarity flashes through the confusion -- the car has been stolen! Where is Snoots?

  Shaking with panic she pulls out her phone and calls Cory, who is in the middle of scent imprinting exercises.

  "Hey, what's up?"

  "Cory, Snootsy is gone." It's almost a sob.

  "He's dead?" His voice is now fierce, explosive.

  "No. My car has been stolen! I'm in the city."

  There is silence from his end. "They might have towed it."

  "No, it's a legal spot and there's a different car there now! The same Prius is still next to the space I parked in."

  "Are you sure it's the same Prius?"

  "Yes! I don't care about my car! But Snoots was in it! He wanted to come with me this morning." Julie is now in tears. "I left him for twenty minutes to show Rudi that new animation in green. The one you like."

  "Jesus, Julie." Silence.

  "I'm walking up and down the street, I'm-"

  "Call the police and report the car. I'm on my way."

  Chapter Fifty-Seven

  San Francisco Mission District. Hours later, Dawn and Rob are sitting in a small coffee bar across from Julie and Cory. They've spent the past two hours walking the surrounding neighborhood, calling the dog, asking shopkeepers if they've seen a black-and-tan shepherd mix. Julie's eyes are puffy from crying.

  Dawn has never seen Cory so devastated, not even after Duncan's death.

  "We need to check all the animal shelters in the city and all the chop shops." Cory is examining a list of entries on his iPhone for San Francisco animal shelters.

  "Don't get your hopes up about the chop shops," Rob warns somberly. "It's almost certain the car won't be recognizable at this point." Rob feels bad to say it, but they need to understand this.

  "Did he have his collar on?" Dawn asks.

  Julie nods.

  "Good, that means he has his rabies tags. And Cory's phone number!"

  "Yeah. But nobody's called me," Cory says grimly. "We need to put up posters and run ads."

  "He's kind of a celebrity now. Lots of people will be looking for him, once they know the dog from Blind Tasting is missing." Dawn stops her train of thought, realizing the darker possibilities.

  Cory presents her conclusion aloud. "It's possible this is a dognapping. Why did they target a car with a dog in it?"

  "Of course I'll give them money!" Julie covers her face with her hands. "Why doesn't someone call?" It's more of a prayer than a question.

  "That car was worth north of forty thousand dollars," Rob says, "It could be just plain auto theft."

  "Wouldn't Snoots have been aggressive toward an intruder? Wouldn't he bark, made a ruckus?" Dawn asks.

  "You'd think so," Cory replies. "But, he could have just jumped out when they opened the door."

  "Couldn't he have found me at the gallery?" Julie says wretchedly. "I was only four blocks away. His nose is so exquisite."

  "The strange city with all the noise and traffic and the attacker. He would probably try to find his way home, whatever smelled most like home," Dawn says.

  "There are too many things to speculate about right now," Cory replies. "We have to just keep looking. There isn't anything else to do. And, somehow, I have to keep going with the training." He buries his head in his arms.

  "Cory, none of us will hold it against you, if you just want to give it up," Dawn tells him.

  "She's right, Core," Rob adds quietly.

  Cory shakes his head. "I signed a three-hundred thousand dollar contractual obligation, and I'm at a critical juncture with the dogs. And...I have to do it for Snoots now." Tears are welling up into his eyes. "It may have to be his legacy."

  Dawn realizes she's never seen Cory cry before.

  By the next morning, posters of Snoots are up around the city with the offer of a substantial reward for his return. The four friends continue their visits to the shelters and animal hospitals in the Bay Area; many volunteers at the shelters recognize Snoots from the stories in the media, but no one remembers seeing him in the past twenty-four hours.

  Rob pursues the unsavory task of visiting chop shops in Oakland and San Francisco, hoping to coax the tough punks who run these illegal businesses into providing him with useful leads or tips. Nothing.

  Cory soldiers on with the training sessions, downing cans of Red Bull and continuing to call shelters during his breaks. He hasn't slept in more than twenty-four hours, but he's too jangled for sleep.

  Doug Price calls him with consoling words and promises to put his staff on the search for the dog. But, Cory knows that with every passing hour, every passing day, the likelihood of ever finding Snoots again, assuming he's still alive, is growing smaller.

  Julie and Cory lie in bed unable to sleep. They've had two leads: a newly-admitted shepherd-lab at a shelter in Oakland, and a stray with no tags that was hit by a car and was being treated for a broken leg at an animal hospital in South San Francisco.

  Hearts filled with dread and hope, they drove up to the city to see both dogs, only to realize neither was Snoots. The one at the shelter could have been Snoots' cousin and it was painful to be so graphically reminded of him.

  "Should we offer more money?" Julie asks in quiet desperation.

  Cory shakes his head in defeat. "I don't think it's that kind of dognapping anymore. Someone would have called by now."

  "Maybe he lost his collar. Maybe it's someone who wants to use him for their own wine analysis. Would he do it for someone else?"

  "It's possible. In which case they'll never surface and he's just gone."

  The silent tension in the dark is almost palpable.

  Julie feels more waves of remorse crashing over her. She turns away from Cory and covers her face, crying. "If we don't find him, I don't think I'll ever get over this." And the happiness we almost had.

  Cory puts an arm around her, but sh
e can sense his deep sadness, and it magnifies her own. She has caused this, her actions have broken the heart of the person who means more to her than anyone.

  "Why did I take him that day!" In the darkness, Julie stares up at the ceiling in misery.

  "He wanted to go, that's why. He rode in the car with us all the time."

  "How could I forget his leash! I would have taken him to the gallery, tied him outside. I was only gone half an hour. My god, how fast can they steal a car?"

  "In about sixty seconds."

  "I keep picturing him injured, hungry, frightened." The tears flow freely down her face.

  "He's a smart dog, Julie. If he has a chance at all, he's looking out for himself."

  "Could he find his way home? From the city?" she asks, with a dark hopefulness in her voice.

  "Wolves mark and patrol large tracts of land as their territory. In the wild he might find us even hundreds of miles away. And he might be able to work homeward from the city." He sighs. "But there are so many highways and roads and traffic. Wolves, dogs, didn't evolve to judge the speeds of automobiles, they're not too accurate with calculating how fast a car is moving toward them."

  "Oh, Cory! Does he know I didn't just abandon him?" She's sobbing now.

  "He knows this is his forever home." Cory’s throat is tight and he can only manage a whisper now. "And it always will be."

  A week goes by. Cory, Julie, Dawn and Rob each have their list of places to call and to visit and to call again. There is no encouraging news.

  Cory begins to receive letters, email and tweets from sympathetic people, fans of Snoots and Blind Tasting. It cheers him up to realize that well-meaning strangers are now looking for his dog.

  With steely self-discipline he continues his work with the two remaining dogs and their trainers, and on Friday, the full-blooded shepherd, a former police dog, begins making exact matches between wine samples.

  Midway through the sixth week, the other dog, a shepherd-lab from the pound, succeeds in the exact matches. He's a sweet, enthusiastic dog, a blonder version of Snoots, and he figures out a close match more quickly than the former police dog does.