Putting on the Dog

by Cynthia Baxter

  “Here you go!” Celia Cromworthy beamed. “We’ve left some brochures on health issues that you might want to hand out. If you need anything else, just ask your assistant.”

  “ ‘Assistant’?” I asked.

  But she’d already dashed off. No matter; as I neared my booth, I understood what she was talking about. Standing inside, glancing around nervously, was a serious-looking girl about twelve or thirteen, with straight brown hair and hazel eyes. Stick-thin, she was dressed in a striped shirt and flowered shorts that even I could tell didn’t go together. Every few seconds, she slid the thick eyeglasses she wore up the bridge of her nose. Overall, she had the gawky look of someone whose body hadn’t yet decided upon its long-term plan.

  Max and Lou bounded over to her, eager to introduce themselves. As soon as she noticed them, her face lit up.

  “Hey, you cute little doggies!” She crouched down to their level, laughing gleefully as they both climbed all over her in a manic effort to cover her face with dog saliva. “Hey, cut that out!” she protested between giggles. “You’re getting me all wet!”

  “Sorry!” I cried as I jogged over. “Whenever they’re out in public, they act like they’re the most attention-starved beasts in the universe. You’d never guess they’re really the most spoiled.” I reached for my wild canines’ collars so I could pull them off her.

  “They’re okay,” she insisted. “I love dogs. I really wish I had one, but my parents won’t let me. They say our lives are too complicated.”

  Much to the dismay of both my Westie and my Dalmatian, the girl stood up. It only took another two seconds before they resumed harassing her; Lou nudged her hand roughly with his nose in a desperate attempt at prolonging physical contact, and Max tried to climb up her leg.

  She glanced at me shyly, grinning. For the first time, I noticed that her teeth were covered with shiny metal braces. “They really like me!”

  I wasn’t about to tell her they were shameless at soliciting affection from any living, breathing being they encountered. Instead, I nodded. “I’ll say they do. You have a real way with dogs. If you want, you can pick up Max. Lou’ll go nuts, but that’s the price you pay for being a Dalmatian. When you weigh sixty-six pounds, only weight lifters can carry you around like a baby.”

  “Hey, Maxie,” the girl cooed, reaching for the crazed Westie. “Want me to hold you? Come here, little doggie.”

  Max was more than happy to comply. When she started to scratch his belly as she cradled him gently in her arms, pure ecstasy was written all over his furry face.

  “What happened to Max’s tail?” the girl asked earnestly. “He’s hardly got any of it left!”

  “Both my dogs lived with other people before they came to live with me. Their original owners weren’t exactly the nicest people in the world, so somewhere along the line, Max lost part of his tail. Lou had an accident, too. See? He lost an eye.”

  “You poor things!” she whispered.

  “By the way, I’m Dr. Popper,” I said. “I’m supposed to stand in this booth all day, handing out advice.”

  “My name’s Emily Bolger.” Once again, she jabbed at her thick glasses. “I’m your volunteer helper.”

  “Emily, huh? I had a feeling that was your name.”

  “Really? How?”

  “Your name tag.”

  She grinned. “Oh, yeah. Forgot.”

  “Glad to have you aboard, Emily. Thanks for helping out.”

  She studied me for a few seconds. “Are you really a veterinarian?”

  “Got the diploma to prove it. And the scars.”

  “Huh?”

  “Just joking. What about you? What do you do, when you’re not volunteering at charity dog shows?”

  “Nothing much. I’m still just a kid, you know?”

  “I guess I noticed that. Do you live around here?”

  “Not really. I kind of don’t live anywhere. My dad has a summer place out here, but he really lives in California and New York. My mom lives in a bunch of places, too. Paris, mostly. And me, well, I don’t spend much time at any of their houses because I go to boarding school in Virginia during the year.”

  “Do you like boarding school?”

  She shrugged, sending her glasses slipping down the bridge of her nose again. She stopped scratching Max’s belly long enough to push them back into place. “It’s okay, I guess. I like the school part. But it’s not like I have tons of friends or anything.”

  “Personally, I’ve never found that having tons of friends mattered. Having one or two really good ones always seemed a lot better.”

  She brightened. “Yeah, you’re right. Hey, maybe you and I could be friends! I don’t know a lot of people out here.”

  “Haven’t you met other kids out here over the years?”

  “This is the first summer I’ve spent on the East End. I usually go to summer camp. Or else one of those travel programs where you spend the summer biking around Italy or kayaking on the Colorado River.”

  “Wow! Lucky you!”

  “I guess. Except the only reason my parents send me is to get rid of me.”

  “I doubt that!”

  “You don’t know my parents.” She puckered up her face into a sour expression. “I’m kind of a disappointment to them.”

  “Oh, Emily! I hope you don’t really believe that!”

  Another shrug. “It’s true. The only reason I’m here this summer is that my father decided it was time to start turning me into somebody who fit into his world.” She grimaced. “You know, the whole scene out here.”

  “What about your world?” I asked in a gentle voice. “What matters to you?”

  “I think I’d like to work with animals, like you,” she answered shyly. “They’re so...honest. They always let you know exactly what they’re thinking, you know?”

  Lou chose that moment to lift his leg on the giant tick.

  I moaned. “Sometimes I wish they’d try just a little harder not to!”

  Emily giggled. I felt oddly pleased.

  “So these dogs who are in dog shows like this... they’re probably nervous wrecks, right? They must get all kinds of special diseases and things.”

  “Actually, the opposite is true,” I told her. “Most show dogs adore the attention. They love all the time they get to spend with their owners and their trainers. Then there’s the excitement of the actual event. If you watch them, you can see they have a pretty good sense of what’s going on, and they really get into it. Of course, their owners also take very good care of them, making sure they’re inoculated and taking them for regular check-ups. All in all, they’re a pretty healthy, well-adjusted bunch.”

  “That’s a relief,” Emily said. “I’d hate to think that all these sweet doggies—”

  “Jessie!” I glanced up and saw Kara Liebling trotting toward me, her silky blonde hair framing her face and giving her the look of an angel. She was even dressed all in white so that she matched the meticulously groomed borzoi beside her.

  “Good morning!” she greeted me when she reached the booth. “How lovely to see you again!”

  “Nice to see you, too, Kara. And who’s this lovely creature?”

  I reached down to stroke the graceful white animal. Even though she probably weighed in at seventy-five pounds and stood almost to my hip, the leggy hound with the long, silky coat was surprisingly dainty.

  A good choice for Kara, I decided. They both have the same aura of elegance.

  “Just look at this beautiful animal!” I turned my head toward Emily, who was standing a couple of feet behind me.

  She gave a little shrug, twisting her face into a disagreeable expression. She stubbornly continued to pet Lou’s head, as if demonstrating that her affections were not easily swayed.

  Even so, Kara brightened. “Hello, Emily. I didn’t realize that was you!”

  “It’s me,” she said meekly.

  “Do you two know each other?” I asked, genuinely surprised.

&nbs
p; “Everybody knows Emily Bolger!” Kara said a little too heartily.

  Bolger, Bolger...of course! Russell Bolger, the movie executive on whose estate the opening-night gala had taken place. So he was her father, the man she was so certain was disappointed in her. Given the glimpse I’d had of “his world,” I suddenly understood this serious, uncertain girl’s claim that she didn’t fit into it very well.

  Kara’s smile faded. “How’s your mom doing, Emily?”

  “Okay, I guess. Right now she’s in California, in one of those rehab places.”

  “Give her my very best, okay?”

  “Sure.” I noticed that Emily barely looked at her.

  “Well,” Kara said cheerfully, “I’d better be off. Wish Anastasia and me luck!”

  A few seconds later, I spotted Shawn Elliot sauntering over in my direction. Considering that I’d been in town less than twenty-four hours, even I was impressed by all the new friends I’d made.

  That didn’t mean my friends were also friends with one another. Remembering the iciness I’d picked up on between Shawn and Kara the evening before, I wondered if he’d been watching, waiting for her to make her exit before he made his entrance.

  “Well, well, well. If it isn’t Dr. Pepper,” Shawn teased once he reached the booth.

  “Her name is Dr. Popper,” Emily corrected him crossly.

  “That’s okay, Em,” I told her. “He’s just being difficult.”

  Breezily, Shawn returned, “And here I thought I was being charming!”

  I decided to change the subject. “How’s Rufus? Any stage fright?”

  “Naw, turns out he’s a natural.”

  We both looked down at the heavyset bulldog with the James Cagney face who had flopped onto the cool grass. Rufus dug his chin into the soil and looked up at us with his big, soulful brown eyes. To me, he looked like the “What, me worry?” poster boy.

  “In fact,” Shawn went on, “Rufus may be getting his first acting gig. I just found out some independent filmmaker is videotaping the dog show. He’s making a documentary to show at the end—probably his way of getting an ‘in’ with some of the suits in the movie biz. Russell Bolger’s even offered to host a luncheon at his place on Sunday so everybody can come and relive their favorite moments. Hey, I wouldn’t mind seeing Rufus on the big screen.” His expression suddenly darkened. “Besides, maybe it’ll help his reputation.”

  I responded with a puzzled look.

  “I know it sounds kind of crazy...but people are starting to make comments about Rufus.” Eyeing Emily, he added obtusely, “And what happened last night.”

  She didn’t seem to notice the change in Shawn’s tone. She was too focused on his dog. “What a funny animal,” she commented, frowning at Rufus. “He looks mean.”

  “Not at all! In fact, he’s a real pussycat,” I assured her. “Why don’t you pet him?”

  She scowled. “He looks like he doesn’t like me.”

  “If you want to work with animals, it’s a good idea to get used to all kinds,” I said gently. “Go ahead. He doesn’t bite.”

  Emily hesitated before crouching down to Rufus’s level and tentatively patting his head. True to form, Rufus rolled over and lay on his back with his four legs limp, already in position for a quality belly-scratching.

  “He does like me!” she squealed happily. As she obliged the affection-craving bulldog, it was difficult for me to tell who was enjoying it more.

  “Why don’t you take him for a walk?” I suggested. “I know he looks gruff, but he’s really a teddy bear.”

  “Come on, Rufus!” Emily said, scooping up his leash. He didn’t need to be asked twice.

  Once the two of them had toddled off and were out of earshot, I turned to Shawn. “You’re kidding, right? About people making comments?”

  “I wish I were.” He sighed. “You know, to be in this business, you have to be as tough as nails. Part of the job is having people criticize you. And I thought I’d gotten used to it. But all of a sudden, people are acting really weird about Rufus—and it’s making me nuts. When you come right down to it, East Brompton is just another small town—and people are already talking about what happened last night.

  “Like this morning? When I parked near East Brompton Green and got out of my car, a bunch of teenage girls were hanging around, looking for celebrities. When they spotted me, they started squealing and giggling.” His cheeks turned pink. “Look, I’m not saying I deserve that kind of treatment, but it happens, okay? Anyway, they were asking for my autograph and all that...and then they spotted Rufus. They started laughing, saying he was wanted by the police, that he was one of ‘America’s Most Wanted,’ stuff like that.

  “Having people act crazy around me is one thing. But seeing them respond negatively to Rufus—who’s, like, my main man—really bothers me, you know? I know he wasn’t really responsible for Devon Barnett’s death. If anybody’s to blame, it’s that ice sculptor guy.”

  I was about to say something consoling when Emily came trotting back with Rufus at her heels.

  “Did you two have fun?” I asked her.

  “Kind of.” She wrinkled her nose, then paused as she pushed her glasses back into place. “At least, we were until this mom came by with her little boy. He got all excited when he saw Rufus and came running over to pet him. But then his mother started yelling, saying, ‘That’s Shawn Elliot’s dog! Keep away from him!’ ” She shrugged, then handed the leash to Shawn. “I think you’d better take him.”

  Glancing over at Shawn, I saw that his mouth was pulled into a tense line. I didn’t know him very well, of course, but I still had a sense I was seeing a side of him that didn’t come out very often. I could feel my heart clench.

  “This will blow over,” I assured him, reaching over and putting my arm around him. I rubbed his shoulder consolingly, leaning forward so I could speak to him without Emily overhearing. “I’m sure that in a day or two—”

  “There you are! I was beginning to think I’d never find you!”

  I glanced up and saw Nick striding across the grass. My arm dropped to my side as quickly as if I was doing jumping jacks. But it was too late. I saw his smile fade as he took in the scene he’d walked in on.

  “Hey, Nick!” I exclaimed, trying to sound glad to see him. In fact, I was glad to see him. It’s just that my timing suddenly seemed to be disastrous.

  Shawn didn’t help. “Hello, Mick,” he mumbled.

  “That’s Nick.” Glancing at Shawn coolly, he added, “I seem to be interrupting something. Again.”

  “Hardly,” I said cheerfully. I took a giant step away from Shawn. “Shawn was just telling me how bad he feels that people have been acting strange toward him since his dog—”

  “ ‘His dog’?” Nick repeated.

  “Exactly. I never got a chance to explain, but the police seem to think that Shawn’s bulldog—Rufus, this guy over here—might have had something to do with Devon Barnett’s death last night.”

  “I guess trouble runs in the family,” Nick observed.

  When I heard a low growl, I couldn’t tell if it was coming from Nick or Shawn. But then I glanced down and realized it had come from Rufus, who was probably picking up on the bad vibes between his beloved master and this interloper.

  “I hope you’ve got that animal under control,” Nick said through clenched teeth.

  “He’s highly trained,” Shawn returned calmly. “He only bites people who deserve it.”

  “Uh, Shawn, I think they’re getting ready to start the opening ceremonies over at the Blue Tent,” I interjected. “Maybe you and Rufus had better head over—especially if you want to make sure he’s featured in the videotape.” Just for the heck of it, I added, “Besides, I heard they take off points if you’re late.”

  “Then we’d better get going.” His eyes fixed on Nick, Shawn said, “I always believe that, in the end, people get what they deserve. Dogs, too. And Rufus here is definitely a winner, so I don’t want to stand i
n the way of him getting his due recognition.”

  “Did you actually manage to string all those words together yourself?” Nick asked pleasantly. “Or do you keep a screenwriter locked up in your basement?”

  “I think I’m beginning to understand what Jessie sees in you,” Shawn returned in the same cheerful voice. As he turned to lead Rufus away, he called, “Later, Jess.”

  “I don’t like him,” Emily muttered.

  “Me, either,” Nick agreed. “What’s he doing, Jess, stalking you?”

  “Why are you making such a big deal about Shawn?”

  “How about the fact that every time I see the two of you together, you’ve got your arms around each other? What am I supposed to think, when you act all...all gooey whenever he’s around?”

  “I’ve never acted gooey in my life!” I insisted indignantly. Deciding not to mention the mud bath his Ferrari had given me upon my arrival, I added, “Besides, Shawn has been very nice to me ever since I got here.”

  Nick snorted. “I’ll bet he has.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Just that I wouldn’t trust that guy as far as I could throw him.”

  “Are you the veterinarian?” a woman cradling a silky gray dog in her arms asked as she emerged from the crowd milling around the booth. “My schnauzer just started limping. I’m worried that he might have stepped on something sharp. Can you take a look at him?”

  I felt like hugging her. “Certainly. Just give me two seconds.” I turned to Nick. “Look, I don’t have time for this right now. Just trust me, okay? You have nothing to worry about where Shawn Elliot is concerned. We’re just friends. I’m not the least bit impressed by the fact that he’s a famous movie star. Look, it was really thoughtful of you to come by, and—”

  “There was a reason, you know.” He still sounded defensive, but his tone was softening. “I wanted to ask you if you had time to go to the beach later. When you’re done here, I mean.”

  I blinked. “ ‘The beach’?”

  “I thought it’d be...you know, romantic. That was the original idea in coming here, remember?”

  “That’s really sweet,” I told him sincerely.

  “Great. Then I’ll be waiting for you at the guesthouse at the end of the afternoon.” He leaned forward and kissed me lightly. “Hey, have fun today, Jess. And knock ’em dead. Let these snobby Bromptons folk see just how special you are.”