Doggone Disaster

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Doggone Disaster Page 19

by Margaret Lashley


  Trixie lunged to lick my face again. I jerked her away just in time. “Yeah. It’s kind of cute and disgusting at the same time.”

  Jake chuckled. “You have any idea why dogs are so quick to wag their tails, Val? Even when they feel abused? Or even when they’ve been betrayed?”

  My heart pinged. “Betrayed, too? Really? No. I don’t know why.”

  “Because in some ways, they’re higher animals than us,” Jake said.

  “Higher? What do you mean?”

  “Well, it’s kind of funny, but no matter what the world shows them, dogs never seem to forget they came to this earth to be loved by God, and needed by man. People sometimes forget this, but a dog never does.”

  “Wow, Jake. That’s actually kind of profound.”

  “Yeah. Why do you thing dog is God spelled backward? They’re the only two beings I know of that are capable of unconditional love.”

  I looked at Trixie and grimaced. “Well, I guess I’m gonna have to wait until I meet up with God, then.”

  Jake shook his head. “Not necessarily.”

  “No?”

  “I think I can help you get there sooner.”

  “Uh...meeting God?” I said. “That’s okay. I can wait.”

  Jake laughed. “Funny gal. I like that. Now listen carefully, and do as I say.”

  “THEN I GOT KNOCKED over by Dad’s horrible old hound dog,” I said, wiping back a tear. Jake, dressed in a doctor’s white smock, was behind me, his hairy fingers massaging my shaking shoulders. Trixie the poodle looked on sympathetically.

  “Good. Let it all out,” he coaxed.

  “He made me drop my ice cream!” I bellowed. “Then he nearly licked me to death with his nasty tongue. My birthday was ruined! That’s when I decided dogs were just dumb, horrible animals. I hated them all!”

  “Good job, Val,” Dr. Jake said encouragingly. “Now, you just sit and rest for a minute.”

  I dabbed my eyes. Dr. Jake moved to the next lawn chair arranged around the fire pit. Trixie was waiting her turn patiently. She wagged her tail as he approached, and he patted her on her eager head.

  “Trixie will demonstrate how it’s done, won’t you girl?” Dr. Jake looked over at me. “She’s here to overcome her fear of shoes.” He looked back at the dog. “Aren’t you, little Trixie?”

  She didn’t speak, but from the way her rear end was wiggling, I could tell she was ready.

  “Is that why dogs chew shoes?” I whispered. “Because they’re afraid of them?”

  “I don’t get into psychoanalysis,” Dr. Jake replied in a hushed tone. “I find it’s too judgmental.”

  “Oh,” I said. “Just one more question.” I fingered the thick leather strap around my neck. “Is the restraint collar really necessary?”

  “Yes. Until I can determine the extent of your psychosis.”

  “My psy...uh. Okay. And the white lab coat?”

  “Listen,” Dr. Jake instructed. “It’s better if you just sit. And stay. And don’t speak.”

  “Okay.”

  I watched as Jake tied an old shoe to the end of a fishing line attached to a short cane pole. He placed a paper bag over Trixie’s head. A hole had been cut in it where her nose could poke out. She could smell, but she couldn’t see. He checked the harness holding her in place in the chair. He seemed satisfied. “Ready,” he said to himself.

  “Sit, Trixie! Stay,” he commanded. Trixie sat up at attention, the bag over her head. Jake picked up the pole and swung the old shoe to within an inch or two of her nose.

  Trixie went ballistic. She growled and snapped at the shoe, tugging so hard on the collar strapped to the chair that I thought she might pull her own head off.

  “That’s it, Trixie girl!” Dr. Jake said. “Get it out! Get it all out!”

  Trixie howled and snapped and yelped herself half-hoarse. After a while, exhausted, she lay down on the chair and sighed. Dr. Jake removed the paper bag over her head and placed the shoe by her nose. Trixie sniffed the shoe, then licked it once, half-heartedly.

  “Is she cured?” I whispered in amazement.

  “For the most part, yes,” Dr. Jake said. “She’s learned through primal screaming that the shoe is not the problem.”

  “Primal screaming?”

  Jake shrugged. “Well, in this case, primal howling. Now it’s your turn. Remember to use your words, Val. And by that, I mean your doggy words. Did you bring the object that symbolizes your deepest fears?”

  “Yes sir. I mean...woof woof!” I handed him the object.

  Dr. Johnson tied it onto a fishing line, then covered my head with a paper bag. He positioned it until it fit snug on my head. I couldn’t see, but my nose poked out of one hole and my lips out of another.

  “Okay,” he said. “Ready? Here we go.”

  I heard the sway of the fishing line in the breeze. I figured if I could get rid of my fear of dogs, maybe I could get rid of my fear of relationships, too. Suddenly, I felt a small tap on my face as my mother’s old wedding ring bopped me gently on the nose.

  I opened my jowls and howled my brains out.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  It was a miracle. I was crossing the Sunshine Skyway Bridge with the top down on Maggie, the wind blowing through my hair, and not a care in the world. I felt like a million bucks. A million empowered bucks.

  Who knew screaming could be such powerful medicine? Forty-five years of loathing gone in five short – albeit very loud – minutes.

  Jake Johnson might not have completely cured me of my loathing of dogs and marriage, but he’d come darn close. After my therapy session had ended, I’d hugged both him and Trixie, and felt as light as a helium balloon in outer space.

  I looked out over the sparkling Gulf of Mexico. My future seemed just as bright and limitless. Jake’s primal scream treatment had released my fears and given me a whole new attitude about life.

  This was a dog-eat-dog world – and Tom Foreman was about to get rabies.

  I PULLED INTO THE LOT of the Sunset Sailaway Resort still flying high. I was ready to face anything! My plan was in place. I was unstoppable! I was going to march right up to Tom Foreman and tell him I’d lost Buster, his diamond earrings, and my respect for him.

  Then I was going to go eat a plate of nachos.

  I cut Maggie’s ignition and opened the car door. Before I could swing my legs around and out, I was accosted by a Chihuahua with short fur the color of butter.

  “Ooops! Sorry about that!” Cold Cuts called from across the lot. “I can’t seem to get him to stop jumping into people’s cars!”

  “No worries,” I said. I tousled the little dog’s head as Cold Cuts made her way toward me. “I love dogs.”

  “Well, it looks like he loves you, too,” Cold Cuts said, grinning.

  “Where did you get him?” I asked.

  “That’s a long story. Come on in and I’ll tell you all about it.”

  I grabbed my suitcase out of the trunk and followed Cold Cuts across the lot, the little Chihuahua trotting happily beside us.

  “YOU’RE KIDDING,” I said and set my mango margarita down on the cabana bar. The beach breeze blew my bangs around. I tucked my hair behind my ear.

  “Nope,” Cold Cuts said. “When we got back here, I went to get our suitcases out of the back of the RV and found him asleep on the bed.”

  “When did you say you went camping?”

  “Well, Bill and I’d planned to stay all this week at Fort DeSoto. But three rainy nights in a row finally drove us away.”

  “You should have come by to see me.”

  “We did. I rang your bell, but I don’t think it was working. So I pounded on the door. You didn’t answer. It was raining like mad and my umbrella was about to give up the ghost. So I got back in the RV and Bill and I drove back here. That’s when I found this little stowaway back there, snoozing away.”

  “That’s so odd, Cold Cuts. That’s the same time I lost Buster.”

  “Buster?”
>
  “My dog.”

  “You have a dog?” Cold Cuts asked, incredulous.

  “Had a dog. He’s been missing for three days. That’s the night you stopped by, right?”

  “Yes. You don’t think....”

  “No. Buster has long, fluffy hair. And it’s more reddish gold.”

  “Oh good grief, Val! So did this dog when we found him. But he got all snarled up in a patch of sandspurs and by the time I cut them all out...well, I decided he’d be better off if I just shaved him.”

  “Oh my word!” I stuttered.

  “I had no idea, Val! If I’d known, I would have.... I don’t know how he got in the RV. And I had no idea where we might have picked him up along the way. The campground...a gas station. Oh, good grief! I’m sorry! Are you sure it’s him?”

  “No. Not one hundred percent. I mean, when I think about it, Milly’s dog looks just like him, too. And I’d only had him a few days myself. Where is he now?”

  “Probably with Bill’s dad. He’d nuts for him. How can we figure out if it’s him?”

  “Well, I know Buster loves to go for a ride. And he loves to eat. By the way, you didn’t happen to....” I thought about the diamonds and shook my head. “Never mind. Wait! I think there’s one pretty sure way to find out. Do you happen to have a can of smoked oysters?”

  Cold Cuts crinkled her nose. “Gross. Really? No. I mean, who would?”

  I looked away. “Nobody I guess. On another note, do you happen to have another room free tonight?”

  “Why? Is someone else coming?”

  “No. It’s just that...since we last spoke...I found out Tom had a secret rendezvous with his ex-wife, Darryl. He lied and told me he had a business trip in Tallahassee. But Goober slipped up and showed me a picture of him sitting next to her. He was holding her hand and smiling like the cheating jerk he is!”

  Cold Cuts shrunk back. “Oh, Val! That’s awful!”

  “Can I ask you something? Do you think that cheating is okay? I mean, if a man is great in so many other ways. Is it something we should put up with?”

  Cold Cuts’ chin met her neck. “Oh, hell no!” she bellowed. She saw my expression and softened her voice. “I mean, not for me, anyway. Are you okay with it?”

  “Not in the slightest,” I said. “I thought I might could make myself be. But...I just came out of therapy....and I know what I want now.”

  Cold Cuts hugged me. “Good for you.”

  “Thanks.” I looked up and spotted Tom coming out of the lobby door. My resolve evaporated. “Oh crap! He’s here! Hide me!” I whispered and ducked under the bar.

  “Okay,” Cold Cuts agreed. “But just promise me that if he finds you, you won’t start anything in front of the resort guests, okay?”

  “I promise. Just hide me. Hurry!”

  “Climb in the beer fridge. It’s broken.”

  She slid one side of the lid over and I stuffed myself in. Cold Cuts slid the glass lid back and covered it with a couple of bar towels. A moment later, I heard her voice. Then Tom the weasel’s.

  “Hi Tom,” she said coolly.

  “Hi, Cold Cuts. How are you?”

  “Great. You?”

  “Never better, thanks.”

  Never better my ass! My left foot was going to sleep. I shifted in the cooler.

  “Have you seen Val?”

  “Uh...she was here a minute ago. She went to the restroom. Should be back in a minute. So, what’s new with you?”

  I strained to hear through the plastic cooler-coffin.

  “Not much. Just got back from a little trip.”

  “Really? Business or pleasure?” Cold Cuts asked.

  “A bit of both, actually.”

  “Yeah?”

  “I had to go help my boss with a presentation in Tallahassee. Then a friend of mine...oh. You know Jorge, right?”

  “Sure.”

  “He works in my office now. Well, about a month ago, he started dating my ex’s cousin, Sherryl. Come to find out, she lives just up the block from him in St. Pete. Anyway, her family is all up near Tallahassee. They planned this big get together to meet him. He was so nervous about it, he could barely make it through his work shifts. He knew I was going to be nearby working this past weekend, so he asked me to come along with him...you know, for moral support. He’s been a little fragile these past few years. I couldn’t say no. I wanted to vouch for him to her family as a good guy. You know, and be there if he needed me.”

  “Oh. Wow,” Cold Cuts said loudly. “That’s so thoughtful of you, Tom. Hey, have you checked in yet?”

  “No.”

  “Go take care of that with Bill. When you get back I’ll get you something out of the beer case. At the moment, though, it still needs a few minutes to cool off.”

  I winced and hoped Tom couldn’t hear me cringe inside the cooler.

  “Great,” Tom said. “Tell Val I’ll be back in a minute.”

  “Don’t worry. I will.”

  The bar towel lifted, providing me a good look at the expression on Cold Cut’s face. If a stitch in time saved nine, I was gonna need about nine-hundred stitches.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  “Play nice, now,” Cold Cuts smirked as Tom walked toward us at the bar. I waved to him. He waved back with one hand. In his other he carried a bag of citrus. The big lug had remembered to get my Minneola tangelos. In exchange, I’d lost his diamond earrings and told my friends he was a lying, cheating dirt bag. The jury was still out on whether I’d lost the dog, too.

  It wasn’t one of my high points.

  “I have a confession to make,” I blurted as soon as Tom got within earshot.

  “Me first,” he said, and set the tangelos on the bar. “Be kind and hear me out, Val. I come bearing gifts.”

  I glanced at the bag. “You remembered my tangelos.”

  “Of course,” he said. “And I got you these, too.” He reached in his shirt pocket and flashed a tin of smoked oysters.

  I started laughing. It got snagged up in my throat and turned into crying. I’d been such a jerk!

  “What’s wrong?” Tom asked. “I promise what I did wasn’t that bad.”

  “I know,” I said between sobs. “You went to help Jorge. Why didn’t you just tell me?”

  Tom put his hands on my waist. “I’m sorry. I was afraid you’d do something stupid.”

  I pursed my lips and looked up guiltily. “Who? Me?”

  Tom fought back a smirk. “So, what’s your confession?”

  “I lost your earrings,” I wailed. Tom looked at me funny. Cold Cuts slapped a tissue in my hand.

  “I don’t understand,” Tom said. “Then how are you wearing them?”

  Oh, crap! I’d forgotten I’d worn the Dollar Store knockoffs. “I...I was going to lie about it,” I confessed.

  Tom shook his head. “Val, sometimes I honestly don’t know what to do with you.”

  “I have an idea,” Cold Cuts said. “Why don’t you make her eat those smoked oysters?”

  “Good idea,” Tom said. He fished the tin out of his pocket and set them on the bar.

  “I have to tell you something else,” I said to Tom.

  “What?”

  “I lost Bus –”

  Tom cracked opened the tin. From the corner of my eye, I saw a little golden dog running my way. It stopped, winked at me, then jumped up and pranced around in a circle, begging for an oyster.

  “Buster!” I cried out.

  “I didn’t expect to see you here!” Tom said.

  Cold Cuts looked over at me and said, “Nobody did.”

  TOM AND I WERE SITTING at the cabana bar on the beach, admiring the sunset and the way hard-nosed Cold Cuts and easy-going Bill toyed with each other like a pair of silly lovebirds. They seemed perfect for each other, despite being complete opposites in so many ways.

  “You two were so lucky to find each other,” I said.

  “So were you,” Cold Cuts reminded me.

  “I guess ev
ery couple is,” Tom said.

  “True,” Bill chimed in. “And while we’re on the subject of couples, odd as they may be, I have a huge favor to ask of you two.”

  “What?” I asked. “Look over there,” Bill said, and pointed to an old man sitting in the sand about twenty feet away. Buster was frolicking around him as he laughed.

  “My dad Fred is crazy about Buster,” Bill said. “Only he’s named him, The Colonel.”

  “I didn’t know that,” I said.

  “His dementia is getting worse,” Bill said. “I see him shrinking away more every day. He’s forgotten all about fishing. Sometimes, he even forgets who I am.”

  “I’m so sorry,” Tom said.

  “It’s okay. The favor I ask isn’t for me. You see, in the past few days, my dad has been happier than I’ve seen him in ages. I guess The Colonel has given him a purpose. When he saw him the first time, his eyes lit up. Now he lives for that dog. He plans his life around feeding him, going for a walk on the beach. I guess The Colonel gives him something of his own. I know he’s your dog. There’s no doubt about that. But I’d be really be grateful if you would consider leaving him here with dad. He’s got a good home here, I assure you.”

  Tom and I looked at each other. Tom nodded.

  “Then The Colonel’s gotta stay,” Tom said.

  “Are you sure?” Bill said. “It would mean the world to my dad.”

  “Yes. We can get another dog,” Tom said.

  “When we’re ready,” I added.

  “Yes,” Tom agreed, and squeezed my hand. “When the time is right.”

  “Besides,” I said, looking at Cold Cuts. “He belongs here. He’s a master of disguise, just like you.”

  AFTER A WALK ON THE beach, Tom and I slipped away together to our little cottage by the sea.

  “Seeing Bill’s dad got me thinking, Val,” Tom said as he unbuttoned his shirt. “Who knows how much time we have? I don’t want to waste it.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I don’t need a dog, Val. If you don’t want one, just say so.” He unbuttoned the last button and let his shirt fall open. “What we need is honesty if we’re gonna make it.”

 

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