by Dixie Cash
Adolph, for the first time since Sandi had owned him, had stopped yapping, retreated to his bed and covered his face with his paws. Pablo looked on from afar, continuing to snarl and growl.
“I give up.” Fiona poured herself another cup of coffee and collapsed onto a dining room chair. Her pajamas and white pom-poms were soaking wet and stained red. Her long hair hung in thick wet clumps with pink tips. “I think that’s the best we can do without scrubbing their skin off. But they still stink. There must be a better solution, but I don’t know what it is.”
Sandi sighed. “Maybe it just has to wear off, but at least they don’t seem to be suffering anymore. I’ll call the vet as soon as his office opens and see what he says.”
Sipping her coffee, Fiona nodded.
“Listen, thank you again for helping me,” Sandi said. “I owe you some new pajamas and a new pair of house shoes.”
Her neighbor waved the offer away. “Forget it. You’d do the same for me.”
“I would, but I still owe you. If you hadn’t helped me, I would’ve been at this until daylight.”
“Hey, we’re neighbors, right? But I’d better get going. It’s after two o’clock. I need some sleep so I’ll be bright-eyed in court tomorrow.”
Sandi walked with her neighbor to the front door. “You don’t have to be there. You’ve done enough.”
“Hey, I’ll be there to support you, girlfriend.”
Prissy, too, had already said she would be there as well as Betty Ann. That her friends might take the time out of their busy days to be present at the hearing that meant nothing to them had touched Sandi’s heart.
“Besides,” Fiona continued, “it’s worth it to me just to get a look at that Nick Conway. Sylvia says he’s plumb larruping when he’s all dressed up.” She giggled wickedly. “I could do larruping, if you know what I mean. I’m probably as good at it as Sylvia.” She bobbed her eyebrows.
Good grief! All Fiona thought about was sex. Sandi was too exhausted to be shocked by what her neighbor had said.
As soon as Fiona cleared the front porch, Sandi returned Ricky and Fred to their pen in the back yard. Waffle was already in his bed. She had spent weeks getting rid of the smell Jake had left in her house. Now skunk odor filled the air around her. Tomorrow, when she had a few free seconds, she would think about what to do about it.
Only after she fell into bed did she realize just how much she, too, still smelled like a skunk.
***
Dawn came. Sandy barely dragged herself out of bed. The repulsive odor still lingered, but not nearly as potent as it had been a few hours earlier. After scrubbing herself with tomato juice and showering with cucumber-melon gel, Sandi didn’t feel a need for another bath, but she had to try to get rid of the smell. She drew herself a bath and loaded it with lavender bubble bath.
Prissy had volunteered to bathe and groom Waffle and have him looking his golden best, but he, too, had already been washed in tomato juice and scrubbed with doggie shampoo. Surely he was clean enough, although skunk odor still hung on and his coat was slightly red-tinted.
She called Prissy early and told her what had happened and that she didn’t think taking him into the Pampered Pooch for grooming was necessary.
“Did you trim his hair?” Prissy asked.
“I didn’t have time.”
“Did you clean his teeth?”
“Well, no—”
“Did you do his nails?”
“Prissy, I don’t think he needs a manicure.”
“Were you able to get rid of the smell?”
“It’s still there a little bit, but it isn’t as strong as it was. I have no more energy to give to the problem, Prissy. I guess this is the best I can do.”
“Nope. Bring that doggie in here. I’ll bathe him with a tried and true formula for getting rid of that skunky odor.”
“Okay, I guess. I hope he doesn’t get a rash from all the scrubbing and washing.”
At the Pampered Pooch, Prissy bathed Waffle in her recipe—peroxide, baking soda and dishwashing soap. Afterward, he did smell better, but the skunk odor still wasn’t gone entirely. As promised, Prissy cleaned his teeth and gave him a dog biscuit guaranteed to give him sweet breath. She manicured his nails and Sandi chose a new collar from her store display.
At home again, she donned a dark green business suit she had worn when she worked as a bank vice-president, a pale green silk tank underneath it, a pair of stockings for the first time in months and nude-colored pumps. She wrangled her long, thick hair into a sleek chignon and hung gold hoops in her ears. For someone who had been awake most of the night and burdened with an anvil of stress, she looked reasonably well. “Bring it on,” she growled into the vanity mirror.
She spritzed herself with a heavy dose of Juicy Couture perfume and for good measure, she heavily sprayed Waffle with the same potion.
At the courthouse, she saw her dear sweet Aunt Ed and her partner Debbie Sue standing on the sidewalk out front. She was wearing a fire-engine-red sheath and pounds of gold jewelry on her skinny body. Debbie Sue had on a green dress and cowboy boots. Sandi hadn’t expected them. Tears misted her eyes as she and Waffle hurried to meet them.
“Aunt Ed. Debbie Sue. What are you two doing here?”
“Why wouldn’t we be here?” Debbie Sue asked. “Ed’s a witness.”
“I wouldn’t let my favorite niece go through this without me being here, hon,” Aunt Ed said.
“Yeah,” Debbie Sue added. “After all, Ed caused the problem. She shouldn’t have let Waffle out into the back yard alone.”
Sandi had to laugh even though she wasn’t in a laughing mood. “Thank you so much. I so appreciate your support.”
Her aunt frowned and sniffed the air. “What’s that smell?”
“It’s Juicy Couture, I think. I sprayed myself and Waffle. Is it too much?”
“Oh, don’t worry. It’ll probably be okay if you stay downwind.”
Just then, Fiona, Betty Ann and Prissy hustled up and joined them. Sandi introduced them, too.
“Oh, my God, I love your shoes,” Fiona said to Aunt Ed.
Everyone’s attention veered to Aunt Ed’s feet. She was indeed wearing the most darling spike-heel pumps. They looked like ice cream sundaes dripping with chocolate syrup, with bright red cherries on the toes.
“Oh, my Lord,” Sandi gushed. “Those shoes are so to-die-for, Aunt Ed. Where ever did you get them?”
“My honey bought them for me in L.A. He’s got excellent taste when it comes to shoes.” She bent and scruffed Waffle’s head. “So is this culprit ready for his big day?”
Waffle grinned up at her, his tail whipping.
“I can’t believe all of you are here,” Sandi said, using her pinky finger to wipe a tear from the corner of her eye. “I’ve got quite the entourage.”
“We are not about to sit still and see you or Waffle treated unfairly,” Prissy said firmly.
“I do the bailiff’s wife’s hair every week,” Fiona said. “She and I have been talking about this hearing.” She giggled. “She wanted to come with me today to get a look in person at Nick Conway, but her husband wouldn’t let her.”
“Look, I don’t think this is going to be a big deal,” Sandi said. “Please don’t say anything unless they ask you to, okay?”
“Oh, we won’t,” Debbie Sue said. “We know how to behave. If I made an ass of myself in a courtroom, my husband would hear about it for sure. He’d lock me in the house and never let me out.”
As they passed through the security scan, Sandi held her breath, hoping that her aunt and/or Debbie Sue weren’t carrying. She wouldn’t put it past either one of them. To her relief, the only thing that set off the alarm was Waffle’s new collar.
Outside the courtroom, a man met them and introduced himself as the bailiff. “Are all of you together?” He sniffed a couple of times, then pulled his handkerchief from his back pocket and wiped his nose.
“We are,” Sandi’s entourage
answered in chorus.
He asked for custody of Waffle.
Debbie Sue stepped up. “Hold on. Why? Where are you taking him?”
“He can’t go into the courtroom, ma’am, unless Judge Bellamy asks for him. We’ll hold him outside here in the hallway.”
Sandy reluctantly handed over Waffle’s leash and the bailiff gestured her and her group into the courtroom.
Sandi had never been inside a Midland courtroom. She had never been inside a courtroom anywhere. She hadn’t even served on a jury. In both of her divorces, the proceedings had been handled by lawyers without her presence. In the cavernous space of rich dark wood walls and formal furnishings, she felt small and ineffectual. Scrolling through her mind like an endless chain was one thought: I’m going to lose this fight.
Leaving her group in the public gallery, she summoned her courage and strode forward toward an empty long table across from the judge’s tall bench.
She stole a look at Nick seated at a long table to her right. His hair was perfectly styled and combed, his jaw clean shaven. A tan leather blazer stretched across his wide shoulders. Starched and creased denim jeans hugged his long thighs. He looked good enough to eat with a spoon. She felt that little squiggle in her midsection that seeing him always caused.
A balding man with glasses sat beside him and they talked in low tones. His lawyer, no doubt.
Nick turned and looked behind himself as her little group seated themselves on one of the long bench seats. His eyes rolled. Damn him for judging her and her friends! A burst of anger replaced the intimidation she had felt on first arriving. He had his nerve stealing Waffle then suing her. Her jaw clenched.
The judge breezed in, his long black robe billowing behind him, half-glasses resting on his nose. As he seated himself in all of his self-importance, Sandi couldn’t keep from noticing his ill-fitting toupee. She heard a stifled giggle from behind her. Fiona the Hairdresser, no doubt. Hopefully, it hadn’t come from Aunt Ed or Debbie Sue. Sandi almost laughed herself.
The judge could barely be seen behind the tall bench. As he sorted papers on top of the bench, his nose wrinkled. “What’s that smell?”
“Uh, must be something in the air, your honor,” the bailiff answered.
The judge made an exaggerated sigh, followed by a brief opening statement. He then turned to Sandi. “You were ordered to bring the subject dog to court today. Have you done that?”
“Yessir. I had to give him to your bailiff.”
The judge turned to the bailiff. “Bring in the animal.”
The bailiff left the huge room and soon returned loosely leading Waffle. The dog trotted along beside him as if he knew he was the center of attention.
“What is that smell?” the judge asked again. “It almost smells like a skunk.”
“It must be coming from outside, your honor,” the bailiff answered.
“Well, make sure the door is closed tightly. Enough two-legged skunks pass through this courtroom. We don’t need a four-legged one.”
No one dared laugh. One of the cops present hurried to secure the door.
At that same moment, a white cat with big black spots sauntered out of a room behind and to the side of the judge’s bench. It suddenly halted. Its back humped into a mound, a meoooowrrrrr came from its throat and it threw itself at Waffle.
The dog ripped loose from the bailiff and lunged for the cat, snarling and barking. Woof! Bwoof! Woof!
“Waffle! Waffle! No!” Sandi cried.
The cat scrambled up the side of the judge’s bench.
The judge sprang to his feet and banged his gavel. “Order! Order!”
On a feline yowl, the cat darted across the top of the bench, scattering papers in a cloud and tipping over a glass filled with water.
“Desiree! Desiree!” the judge shouted, futilely grabbing for the cat. His toupee loosened and slid down over one eye.
Waffle stood on his hind legs, frantically scratched on the side of the bench, trying to climb it.
Sandi clasped her jaws with her palms, looking on in horror. A hooting laugh came from the group sitting behind her.
Waffle darted around the front of the judge’s bench upending the court reporter and tipping her backward. Her equipment hit the floor with a loud clatter and crash. Nick rushed forward to aid her.
Sandi lunged for Waffle’s leash, but he was too quick. He began pawing and clawing at the opposite side of the judge’s bench. The cat met him yowling and hissing. Perched on its haunches, it boxed Waffle’s nose. Waffle barked and whined and clawed at the side of the judge’s bench.
The judge finally grabbed the cat with both hands, but the short-haired animal, as if it were greased, escaped, leaped to the rail that separated the jury box from the courtroom and dashed across the jury panel chairs. Waffle chased after it, barking and clawing his way over the chairs. The bailiff followed.
“Order! Order! Goddammit, I said order!” The judge banged his gavel so hard the handle broke and his toupee flipped off and onto the bench. He collapsed into his chair and fell back, his bald head shining, his glasses askew.
Two armed policeman rushed in. Fearing for Waffle’s safety, Sandi hiked her skirt and climbed over the jury box rail. Stumbling and falling through the chairs, she captured Waffle by flinging both arms around his neck. He continued to bark and strain against her, dragging her through the jury box chairs until he escaped her grip altogether.
All at once, the cat was nowhere to be seen. Calm began to return. Sandi found herself lying prone across two chairs. She sensed a presence and looked up. Nick loomed over her, a tight grip on Waffle’s collar. “Are you all right?”
Her heart was pounding so hard she thought it might jump out of her chest. “Do I look like I’m all right? Don’t speak to me.”
She struggled to a sitting position. Her stockings were torn, she had lost a shoe and a sheaf of her chignon had come loose and hung down the side of her face.
Nick offered a hand. She took it and got to her feet, then yanked up her skirt and climbed over the jury box rail a second time. She looked around. Her aunt and her friends stood in a line behind the gallery rail, anxious looks on their faces. Her knee throbbed and burned like fire and felt as if it had been hit with a hammer. She inspected it and saw a large bleeding scrape.
“Looks like you skinned your knee. Here, let me fix it.” Nick pulled a handkerchief out of his back pocket, then knelt on one knee in front of her and tied it around her knee. “There, that oughtta help ’til you can get to some first aid.” He bent over the rail, retrieved her shoe and handed it to her.
She shakily clasped his arm as she bent and slipped on her shoe. “I don’t know what happened. I don’t know what would make Waffle attack a cat.”
Nick shrugged nonchalantly, as if bedlam had not just occurred. “He’s a dog. Why does he stink? What did you do, spray him with perfume? And why is he so red?”
Nick’s lawyer came up behind him, clearing his throat and wiping his nose. “Can we, um, be seated? I think the judge has a statement.”
“And I’ve got a question,” Nick snapped. “What the hell is a cat doing in a courtroom?”
Leave it to a man to blame the cat, Sandi thought sourly.
Nick’s lawyer shrugged and gave an arch look. “Judge Bellamy is a cat lover. That one, Desiree, is his favorite cat. She usually stays in his chambers with him.”
“Shit.” Nick said.
Prissy had taken charge of Waffle and she and Betty Ann had removed him from the courtroom. With much grumbling and throat-clearing, Sandi’s remaining entourage took their seats. She limped back to the long table, scanning the courtroom and the destruction wrought. A little surge of guilt pinched her. They could have avoided all of this damage and turmoil if she and Nick had just done what his friend, the deputy sheriff, had suggested in the first place.
She squeezed her eyes shut and clamped her jaw tight. Dear God. How much was this going to cost her?
The judge cleared
his throat. “Mr. Hester. First, I will tell you that this is a frivolous proceeding. It’s a waste of the court’s time and taxpayers’ dollars. I should instruct the county to bill you and your client for the damage done to my courtroom, but I recognize a mitigating factor.” He looked lovingly toward Desiree now resting smugly in the bailiff’s arms.
Taking his attention back to Nick, the judge continued. “Mr. Conway, I’ve read your written statement. What is wrong with you? You’re an adult. A well-educated, accomplished man. A scientist. You, sir, have a graduate college degree.”
“Yessir,” Nick said meekly.
The judge swung his gaze to Sandi and she cringed inside. “You, madam, have a college degree and as I understand it, you own your own innovative business. You are not a stupid woman.”
How the judge knew such personal things about Nick and her, Sandi didn’t know. “Yessir,” she said meekly. “I mean nossir.”
“I don’t know why anyone would want such an obnoxious dog, but I’m convinced his true owner is Mr. Conway.”
“But your honor—”
“I’m speaking, Miz Walker. I am ordering custody of the dog known as Buster—”
“It’s Waffle, your honor. His name is—”
The judge glared at her over the top of his half glasses. “Do not press your luck, Miz Walker.” He cleared his throat. “I am awarding custody of the dog known as Buster to Mr. Nicholas Conway.”
Sandi fought back tears. But why was she about to cry? Hadn’t she known this was the way this hearing would go?
“However, I am also ordering that Mr. Conway share the dog with you freely, allowing home visits and allowing you to have the dog in your custody at least once every two weeks. If this does not occur, you are to report the infraction to this court. Understood?”
“Yessir.”
Mollified though not exhilarated at the ruling, Sandi stole a sideways glance at Nick. He stared straight at the judge, his jaw clenched.
Sandi bit down on her lower lip. Oh, dear. This isn’t going to be easy.
