You Can Have My Heart, but Don't Touch My Dog

by Dixie Cash

  A plan evolved in his mind. After readying for the day, he went into his home office and typed up a flyer on his computer. A beauty shop would be an ideal place to leave handouts. Of course, once he asked Sandi’s aunt and her partner to allow him to leave the handouts in the Styling Station, they would know he had removed Buster from the aunt’s back yard. Guilt threatened to stop him, but he swallowed it and moved forward.

  At the Styling Station, while he sat out front drumming his fingers on the steering wheel and trying to decide the best way to approach the situation, Debbie Sue walked out of the beauty shop and up to his window. He buzzed it down. “Hey.”

  “Hey yourself. Whatcha doing?”

  Nick made a spur-of-the-moment decision to come clean. He truly believed honesty was the best policy and he didn’t want to make enemies of Edwina and Debbie Sue. And he especially didn’t want to make an enemy of Sandi. If everything got un-screwed up, he would like to know her better.

  “My dog is lost again.” He lifted the small stack of flyers off the passenger seat and started to hand them to Debbie Sue. “I was hoping you’d—”

  “Ever hear that old saying, what goes around comes around?”

  Her ire radiated all the way through his truck window. Uh-oh. He angled a cautious look at her. “Yeah, I’ve heard it.”

  “Then think about it.” She paused, looking him in the eye. “You’re wasting paper on flyers.”

  “Wait a minute.” He opened the door and stepped down from his seat. “Why do I think you know where Buster is?”

  “Waffle is at his home in Midland with his owner, Sandi Walker. You shouldn’t have stolen him out of Ed’s yard.”

  “I know that. It was dumb. I know I owe Edwina an apology.”

  “You owe Ed and her niece both an apology. And you might as well apologize to me, too. Ed and I stick together. And because she’s my friend, so is her niece.”

  “You said you have dogs.”

  “I do. Three of them.”

  “Big dogs or little dogs?”

  “What difference does it make? This isn’t about me and my dogs.”

  “The difference is you know what different dogs are like. Buster isn’t a frou-frou lap dog. He happens to be a working dog. A cattle dog.”

  “He isn’t a born-and-bred cattle dog. He doesn’t even look like a cattle dog. He’s a mix.”

  “That might be, but he has the right instincts. He loves to be busy. He shouldn’t be cooped up in a house or a store. He needs to have room to run.”

  For a fleeting moment, he thought he saw understanding in her eyes, but she turned on her heel, prissed her ass-in-tight jeans into the beauty shop and slammed the door with a Crash!

  Women!

  He sat a few more minutes, absorbing all that he thought he now knew. So those crazy women had come out to his home on his employer’s ranch and taken Buster out of his back yard. Nervy. Harley’s words from yesterday came to him: Edwina and Debbie Sue do have a way of getting everyone’s attention.

  If he gave in to his instinct for fair play, this was poetic justice in a way. Debbie Sue was right. He shouldn’t have taken Buster out of Edwina’s yard. Later, after tempers had a chance to cool, he would come back to town and apologize to Edwina.

  But at the moment, he was more concerned with getting his dog back and after all that had happened, an apology to a crazy woman wouldn’t solve that problem.

  He returned to the ranch and dug his Midland phone book out of a desk drawer. He paged through the yellow pages under “Attorneys” and found Aubrey Hester’s name and an office address in downtown Midland. Like Jason Webster, Aubrey was an old high school acquaintance, though Nick hadn’t seen him or talked to him in years.

  The phone operator in Aubrey’s office told him the lawyer was out for the day, but after some cajoling and a little teasing, she said he was probably playing golf. Nick’s memory zoomed backward to when he and Aubrey were in high school. The Aubrey Hester he remembered was too blind to follow a golf ball in flight, didn’t have an athletic bone in his body or a muscle anywhere.

  Nick prowled through his desk until he found the roster listing the names, addresses and home phone numbers of the Midland High School class of 2001. An office number and a cell number were listed for Aubrey. Nick pressed in the cell number.

  The lawyer answered right away. After Nick told him who he was, a monotonous who’s-died, who-lives-where-now and what’s-who doing-now conversation ensued. Minutes later, Nick got an opportunity to explain the situation.

  “Hey, no problem, Nick,” Aubrey replied. “We’ll get that pooch back to you in no time. I just have to talk to the judge. He’s a friend of mine.”

  Wow. Back in their high school days, every person in Midland High School would have said that Aubrey Hester was more likely to be standing in front of a judge than being friends with one.

  “Where did you say the dog is?” Aubrey asked.

  Nick gave him Sandi’s store name and address.

  “You can trust me to take care of this, Nick. I’ll do it first thing tomorrow. If I need more information, I’ll call you.”

  “Fine.”

  “Listen, I gotta go, buddy. They’re waiting on me to putt out. We need to get together sometime and have a beer.... Oh, and Nick? One more thing. Don’t go near her. Or the dog. Just leave things alone and let me take care of it.”

  Nick hung up, satisfied that something would be done. He didn’t know exactly what, but something. He should have called a lawyer in the first place and not fooled with a deputy sheriff. Then an afterthought came to him. Calling up a lawyer on a golf course probably wasn’t the greatest idea. Nick had told Aubrey Sandi’s address and phone numbers, but he felt sure Aubrey hadn’t written them down.

  ***

  After so much confusion and stress, Sandi had a calm, uneventful week. The weekend came. Richard took her out to dinner and they saw a movie. He seemed morose. Probably because John Wilson was still in jail. Not wanting to ruin a pleasant evening, Sandi didn’t broach that subject.

  On Monday, just after finishing up a fresh batch of Atomic Energizer, the front door chimed and a man wearing neatly pressed jeans and a long-sleeve dress shirt stepped into the store. He had “cop” written all over him. “Miss Sandi Walker?”

  “Yes, I’m Sandi Walker.”

  He thrust a folded blue document at her. Reflexively she took it and unfolded it. “What is this?”

  “It’s a summons to court, ma’am.”

  Stunned, she looked up at her antagonist.

  “Judge Theodore J. Bellamy. It’s an informal hearing.” He touched the bill of his cap. “You have a good day, ma’am.”

  He walked out, leaving her with her jaw hanging.

  She quickly recovered and began to read. She was ordered to appear in court with Waffle accompanying her at one o’clock exactly one week from today. Oh. My. God.

  On trembly knees she walked to the back room, sat down at the table and began to read the document again.

  “Are you okay?” Betty Ann asked.

  “Not quite. Can you bring me a cup of coffee?”

  Betty Ann reappeared with a mug of steaming coffee and set it on the table.

  “Thank you, Betty Ann.”

  “Mind if I sit down?” Without waiting for an answer, the employee seated herself opposite Sandi and nodded toward the document. “What is that?”

  “It’s a summons. I can’t believe it. Nick Conway is trying to take Waffle away from me through the court system.”

  “Can he do that? I mean, I never heard of anybody suing somebody over a dog. And on such short notice. Nick must know the judge. Is it an official paper?”

  Sandi turned the document over, but the back was blank. “It looks official.” She continued to read, barely hearing Betty Ann. “Oh, my God. He’s saying I stole Waffle and that I’m using him as a guinea pig for my weird pet food. What an asshole.”

  Betty Ann made a dismissive gesture with her hand. “
Oh, don’t worry about that. Those lawyers make up crap to make you look bad.”

  Sandi sighed and sat back in her chair. “I know only one thing. I cannot afford to hire a lawyer.”

  “Can’t you represent yourself?”

  “I don’t know the first thing about doing that, but I guess I’ll have to.”

  That afternoon, a frantic Richard called. “Sandi,” he blurted without even saying hello. “I saw your name on Judge Bellamy’s court docket. What is going on?”

  Sandi walked to the back room and took a seat at the table. “You’re overexcited, Richard. Nick Conway is suing me for custody of Waffle.”

  “This is insane. I know Judge Bellamy. He’s a tough judge. Hardline all the way. Just give that guy the damn dog and be done with this.”

  Richard had never had a pet, not even as a boy. He couldn’t relate to her affection for Waffle or any animal. She gasped. “I will not. Not unless I have to. I have rights, too, you know.”

  “I swear, Sandi, I’ve never seen this...this intransigent side of you.”

  “How well I know. Well, you know what? Being some guy’s doormat has been one of my shortcomings for years. Good ol’ good sport Sandi. Just go along to get along. Well... no more.”

  “Even if I had the time to help you, frankly, I don’t know if I want to be seen defending a dog. That’s a moot issue anyway because I’m tied up in court myself. I’ll see if I can find someone who’ll represent you on short notice.”

  “No. I can’t afford a lawyer.”

  “Sandi, I’ll find someone who’ll do it pro bono. As a favor to me.”

  “You mean for free? No, Richard. I don’t want someone you know to represent me for free. I don’t want to owe you or your friends. You’re embarrassed by my animals. You don’t like Waffle. And half the time, I wonder if you like me. I want you to stay out of it and mind your own business.”

  “Those are some nasty allegations, Sandi. I care about you. I feel obligated to help you. If you’ll just do as I tell you—”

  “And if I don’t follow orders, will you still care about me, Richard?”

  “All I’ve ever wanted you to do is being reasonable about those animals. But no. You’ve just kept taking on more.”

  “You’re heartless, Richard. At least my animals haven’t robbed an elderly woman and cut her throat or carjacked any cars. All they want is a decent place to live out their lives. They have unconditional love for me. Do thieves and murderers do that for you?”

  Big sigh on the line. “Okay, so we’re back to John Wilson again and what I do for a living. I think we’d better end this conversation. I’ll just leave you with this, babydoll. If you go before Judge Bellamy without a good attorney, you’ll lose.”

  “If I do, it’ll be because it was meant to be. I have to go. I’ve got a million things to do. I’m going to hang up. And one more thing, Richard. Do not ever call me babydoll again.”

  Sandi disconnected, then sat at the table for a few minutes, thinking. Her relationship with Richard was toxic. He annoyed her more often than he pleased her. They no longer had anything in common. Maybe they never had. Lately, he brought more stress than good times into her life. She should end it.

  Six o’clock came. As she prepared to close, though Richard rarely came to her shop, he appeared. “Richard. What are you doing here? I don’t want to continue our earlier argument.”

  “I didn’t like the way our phone conversation ended. Let’s go to dinner. I want to clear the air.” He bent down to kiss her, but she turned her face away. He straightened and stepped back, glaring down at her. “Oh, so it’s that way, is it?”

  “I’ve been thinking all afternoon, Richard. I think we should end it. We don’t seem to have much going for us as a couple. You don’t have the time to put into a relationship and you don’t like my animals.”

  “We’ve been together a year, Sandi. How can you say that? You just need to meet me halfway.”

  “By doing what? Surrendering my animals to be euthanized? Giving up my work with WLA? I’ll never be able to do that, Richard. Now that I’ve seen how many unwanted creatures there are and how needy they are, I’m called to do this. I couldn’t live with myself if I threw it to the wind. I’d think you’d be relieved to be rid of me.”

  His eyes glistened. Was he going to cry? “I don’t want to be rid of you. I just want... I just want —”

  “Oh, Richard, you just want everything to be the way you want it, without regard to the way things are or what I want. Why don’t we agree to be just friends for a while and see how it works out?”

  Chapter 16

  A week later, Sandy was prepared for her and Waffle’s day in court. As much as she could manage, she had researched representing herself in a hearing in front of a judge. On Sunday afternoon, she practiced in front of her vanity mirror.

  She prepared for bed Sunday night cautiously confident of tomorrow’s outcome. Surely a judge would see that Waffle was better off with a soft life with her than with being out racing around a pasture tending a herd of cattle and possibly encountering God knew what.

  Before turning in, she let Waffle outside for his nightly ritual. He had been out only a few minutes when she heard a chorus of loud, hysterical barking—not just from Waffle, but from her other big dogs, Ricky and Fred. Pablo began to pace and growl. Adolph, too, barked and yipped louder than usual. Smelling a skunk odor, she strode to the back door. Adolph trotted along beside her, looking up at her anxiously.

  She opened the door and walked out onto the patio.

  Waffle had something cornered outside Ricky and Fred’s pen and the two dogs were barking and clawing at their wire fence as if they were wild animals. A few seconds later, she was able to see Waffle facing off against a skunk.

  “Oh, no! Oh, my God! Waffle! Come here!... Come here, boy!”

  When he didn’t obey, Sandy dashed across the yard, waded into the fray and grabbed Waffle’s collar. The clamor halted for a few seconds. Suddenly skunk odor pierced the air, as indescribably potent as if the small varmint were standing right beside her. The putrid smell threatened to take her breath. “Oh, my God!”

  All three dogs began to shrink back and whimper. Waffle was whining and wiping at his face and nose with his front paws. He shrank to the ground and rolled his head and face on the grass. The skunk raced across the back yard and disappeared through the fence.

  “Oh, my God, no!” she shrieked. She, too had been sprayed.

  Oh, dear God. “No, no, no.”

  Sandi stood there in the reeking air paralyzed by panic.

  With all of the pets she’d had, she had never had one that had been in a confrontation with a skunk. She had never been close to a skunk either. She turned back into her house, seeking to slam the back door against the breathtaking smell, but she carried it with her.

  For lack of an immediate solution, she picked up the phone receiver with trembling fingers and pressed in her aunt’s number. Aunt Ed and her husband would know what to do. They knew everything.

  “Hey, babygirl, what in the world are you doing calling your dear ol’ aunt at ten o’clock at night?”

  “Oh, Aunt Ed, my dogs and I got sprayed by a skunk and the stench is sickening. Waffle has to go to court with me tomorrow and —”

  “What are you going to court for?”

  “Nick is suing me for custody of Waffle. We have to be there at one o’clock for a hearing.”

  “That bastard! Who’s your lawyer? I hope you’ve got a good one.”

  “Of course, I don’t. I can’t afford lawyers. I’m representing myself. What am I going to do about this odor? I think I might throw up any minute. I can’t go into the courtroom with me and Waffle smelling like a skunk.”

  “Tomato juice, hon. Tomato juice. That’s the only remedy. Get about a gallon of it and wash them down.”

  “What about me?”

  “Wash yourself down, too, I guess. Hell, I don’t know. I don’t know any humans a skunk got to.�
�

  “Oh, dear, Aunt Ed. Gallons of tomato juice are not something I keep around the house.”

  “Then you’ll have to go to the store, darlin’. Listen, I’m sorry, but I need to run. My honey and I are in the middle of something.” She hung up.

  Sandi glowered at the phone. Her aunt had never hung up on her.

  Recovering her wits, she grabbed her keys, dashed outside to her car and headed for Walmart, the only grocery store she knew would have a large quantity of tomato juice on hand. Once there, she cleared one whole shelf of half-gallon cans of tomato juice. Fortunately, with the late hour, few people were in the grocery store, but the ones that were there, backed away and stared at her. She lifted her chin as if she were wearing the world’s most expensive perfume and pushed her basket to the cash register.

  Back in her driveway, she called her neighbor. “Fiona, what are you doing?”

  “Nothing much. Chilling out. Listening to some tunes.”

  “Is there any way you can come over and help me? I’ve got to go to court with Waffle tomorrow, you know. He and I and my other two big dogs got sprayed by a skunk and I have to bathe them and me in tomato juice.”

  “Oh, shit,” Fiona said. “I thought I smelled a skunk. How did you get sprayed?”

  “It’s too long a story to tell right now. I just need your help.”

  “I’ll be right there. Have you got enough juice? I’ve got some spaghetti sauce.”

  Mental eyeroll. “I bought ten half-gallons of juice. Surely that will be enough.”

  Fiona showed up dressed in pink babydoll pajamas and high-heeled house shoes with huge white pom-poms on the toe. Her bleached blond tresses were tipped with hot pink.

  Two a.m. came. Sandi and Fiona had drunk a pot of coffee. Waffle, Ricky and Fred had been scrubbed with tomato juice, then washed with doggie shampoo. Sandi had doused herself in the red liquid, then showered with cucumber-melon shower gel. The kitchen and bathroom looked as if she and Fiona had butchered a hog, then taken a hose to both rooms. And the dogs still stunk.

  Through it all, Waffle had looked at them with sad eyes and cooperated as best he could. He was sorry for causing so much trouble. Sandi believed that and it made her love him all the more. How could she ever give him up?