by Liz Dodwell
For the heck of it I thought I’d better check the doors, just in case one would open, so I slithered out of the sweater again and went around the van, but no such luck. In frustration I yanked at my errant clothing, willing it to tear away. Who knew that I owned the one piece of knitwear that was stronger than ripstop nylon? At this rate I was going to have to knock on a neighbor’s door and expose myself as an idiot as well as a 34B, or I was likely to freeze to death.
To delay doing anything so embarrassing for a while longer I bent down and started to shove my torso once more into the sweater.
“Hello, Polly.”
I froze – metaphorically, that is. I knew that voice. Slowly I pushed my head through the neck opening and tried to lean casually against the side of the van to address the speaker. Trouble was, I’d inserted myself facing the gate and could only twist part way round.
“Britney,” yes, it was the dreaded temptress, “how nice to see you,” I hissed.
She smiled with fake sweetness and stepped from her car across the street. “I noticed as I drove by you seemed to be having some trouble, and I couldn’t leave a friend in distress, now could I?” Friend? My patootie.
The worst of it was, I really was in a pickle and had no option but to swallow my pride and ask for help.
“I, uh, locked my keys in the van and…”
“…and got yourself all caught up,” she smirked. “Not to worry, why don’t you just worm your way back out of that, uh, sack thing, and come and sit in my car while I call for help.”
I bit back the words I wanted to say and freed myself for the last time as I heard Britney say, “Hi, Tyler.” She was calling my boyfriend?
I won’t bore you with all the details of what happened next. As irritated as I was that Britney would call Tyler, it actually made sense. He had access to my house where there was a spare key for the van. When he arrived on the scene, Britney hugged him and clung to his arm and I got even more pissed because he didn’t seem to mind it. And when he laughed at my predicament, that was it. I sucked my lips between my teeth and did my best to spit fire from my eyes.
“Thank you for your assistance, Tyler.” I spoke in a formal tone, snatching the jacket he’d brought for me. “There’s no need for you to stay any longer.” And I turned my back, stepped into the van with as much dignity as I could muster, and drove through the gates at last.
Eight
You can be sure I was very careful getting out of my vehicle when I reached the house, and I opened the door to find Han sitting calmly on a padded hall chair. He fixed me with his inscrutable gaze and waited expectantly for me to approach and acknowledge his greatness.
You know, Pekes were bred in the Chinese Imperial court, maybe as long ago as 200 BC, during the Han Dynesty (now you know where Han got his name). Kathryn once told me a really sweet legend where a lion fell in love with a marmoset – that’s a really cute little monkey – but the difference in their sizes made a union impossible. So the lion asked the protector of animals, Ah Chu, to make him as small as the marmoset so they could marry. Ah Chu agreed, but was so impressed by the lion’s devotion that he left his heart the original size, and from this unlikely pair the Pekingese – or Lion Dog – was born.
Han certainly lived up to the legend, I thought, as I stroked his silky hair. He was quite fearless; I’d seen him face down much bigger dogs with barely a twitch of a whisker.
“Come on, oh Regal One.” I tucked him under my arm and we headed out back. It was slick with ice at the top of the stoop and snow had drifted up to the top step. Still cautious after my recent episode I set Han down so I’d have both hands free to close the door behind me. Only thing was, his little legs went out from under him and he slid head first into the deep snow.
“Oh, jeez. Han!” I fell to my knees, which wasn’t too smart because I jarred the heck out of my back, and scrabbled with my hands to dig him out. I managed to get hold of him and haul him to safety, holding him close and crooning, “It’s OK, you’re OK now.”
I heard him snuffling and he struggled to get out of my arms. Could this day get any worse? I’d made a fool of myself in front of Britney Harris, pissed off my boyfriend, and now even Han was upset with me. I let go of the Peke; he stepped gingerly away, glanced over his shoulder at me then his ears went up, he gave an excited yip, and launched himself back into the snow. He wasn’t mad at me at all; he just wanted to play!
For the next five minutes Han had me laughing at his comic antics, but as abruptly as he’d erupted into playfulness, he decided he’d had enough. That was fine with me. I still had to drop my three dogs off at home and get to the stores, but His Regalness had lifted my spirits beyond measure. It’s amazing how a dog can do that.
Nine
Tyler pulled into the driveway; Vinny, Angel and Coco excitedly rushed to the door. I grabbed the signs I’d made and did my best to calm the dogs while slipping the signs over their heads. As Tyler walked in I sternly told the dogs to sit and stay (no small feat) and stepped aside so he could read the message. He looked a little puzzled
.
SORRY REALLY MOM’S
I glanced at the dogs. Oh!
Grabbing Vinny I swapped him with Coco.
MOM’S REALLY SORRY
Better.
Tyler said nothing; just drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. At that point Angel couldn’t stand it any longer and had to greet him, and for several moments it was madness as canines and man showered affection on each other. Meanwhile, Tyler still hadn’t spoken and my nerves were beginning to get the better of me. When he’d sent a text earlier to suggest dinner I’d thought he wanted to make up; now I wasn’t so sure.
“I really am sorry,” I said, “you came to rescue me and I behaved like an ass. I mean, I can see why you’d find Britney attractive, she’s got a great figure and wears classy clothes and she’s so much more sophisticated than I’ll ever be and…and…” Fudge, I’m going to cry.
“Polly. Sweetheart. I’m the ass, and an insensitive one at that. I laughed at your predicament when Britney showed me the picture…”
“Picture? What picture?”
“Oh…perhaps I shouldn’t have mentioned that.”
“What picture?”
Tyler pulled out his phone and scrolled to an image, then handed it to me.
That shameless hussy. She’d snapped a picture as I was backside forward wriggling from my sweater and had the nerve to send it to my boyfriend. I felt color rise to my face as I wondered who else might she might have shown it to.
“Honey, don’t get upset.” Tyler reached for my hand. “You know, Britney is one of those women who looks good from afar, but up close she looks far from good. She doesn’t hold a Christmas candle to you. Here…” With his other hand he pulled a small box from his pocket. “A peace offering.”
Slowly I pulled the lid off. “Ohhh.” The most darling pair of earrings were nestled inside; silver mistletoe with pearl berries.
I dashed to the mirror, replaced the earrings I’d been wearing with my new gift and admired how they looked.
“That’s better.” Tyler came up behind me, putting his arms around my waist. “Now I can do this.” And he kissed my neck – under the mistletoe, get it? – then spun me around and kissed me the way people in love are meant to kiss.
Ten
Dinner was at the Bombay Indian restaurant, where Tyler and I had our first sort-of date just about a year before. To celebrate, we ordered exactly what we’d had then and didn’t talk about anything but us until we’d finished, then I filled Tyler in on my earlier conversation with Mom.
“The social worker turned out to be not so bad. She acted tough because she has to look out for the girls’ best interests, but Mom said she softened a lot after she heard their story. Still, it was pretty rough all around when she took them to the police station. Ammi cried and begged to stay; then she wanted to take Dopey with her. Sophie was stoic.
“Mom wanted the girls to
come back to Welcome Home, but Ms. Harris said that wasn’t possible, so they’ll be put in foster care for now.”
“Why were they going to the police station?” Tyler leaned forward, resting his arms on the table.
“For questioning, though Ms. Harris said they’d also be checked by a doctor.”
“You said Linda was with the girls when the social worker questioned them. Didn’t she find out anything?”
“She found out that Dopey is named after Ammi’s favorite dwarf in Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs.”
“I meant anything useful.”
“I know what you meant,” I grinned. “It turns out the girls got the idea to put the kitten in a box and leave it on my doorstep because that’s how Nicole got the bracelet; it was left at the front door for her. Thing is, it couldn’t have been a present from their father because he was away. So who gave the bracelet to Nicole? And what does it mean?”
Tyler shook his head. “How did the kids come to pick your doorstep?”
“They’d seen my van in the driveway,” My van is covered with decals for the pet-sitting business, “and figured a pet-sitter would know how to take care of a kitten.”
“Smart girls.” Tyler grinned back at me, and for umpteenth time I thought to myself I must be one of the luckiest people in the world.
Eleven
I was walking through a beautiful Christmas wonderland. In the distance I heard sleigh bells; the dogs heard them, too. Their ears pricked up, they looked at each other and began singing jingle bells. Then I woke up.
My phone was ringing. To help celebrate the season I’d changed my ringtone to the dogs singing Jingle Bells; or should I say barking? I figured there must be an issue with a pet-sit, maybe one of the overnights, but it was worse.
“Polly, wake up,” Mom said. “We need your help; Sophie and Amalie have gone missing.”
I sat up as fast as anyone can sit up with three dogs and three cats on the bed with them. “What do you mean, missing?”
“The girls have run away from the foster home.” Aw geez. “The Sheriff just called to alert us to be on the lookout.”
My mood plummeted as I listened to Mom explain someone came to the door, and as the woman stood there holding the door wide the girls pushed past them and ran. “The foster mother didn’t even think the girls were up yet. The good news is they’d found their boots and coats, so they won’t freeze. They must have been just waiting for an opportunity.”
“Where on earth do they think they’re going to go?” I sighed. And to make matters even more worrying, they weren’t in Mallowapple; they’d been taken to a neighboring town, much larger, where they wouldn’t know their way around.
“They’re a couple of scared and lonely kids.” I could hear the concern in Mom’s voice.
“I’m going to free up my schedule and get hold of Tyler; we’ll go out looking for them.”
“Good. Rooster and Linda are getting ready to do the same. Why don’t you talk to Rooster and figure out where you’re each going to look, so you don’t waste time covering the same area?”
And that’s what we did.
Twelve
I was waiting at the end of the driveway when Tyler pulled up in the Subaru. No sooner had I belted myself in than I felt warm breath on my ear.
“Hello, Frank,” I said, turning my head so I was nose to nose with Tyler’s great dane/bloodhound mix. He gazed mournfully at me and I heard the slow slap of his tail against the back seat. I scratched his ears and kissed him on the nose as he drooled on my shoulder. “Are you here to help?”
“I figured I’d try and put that Nose Work to use,” Tyler said.
Now don’t get me wrong, I love Frank to pieces, but he’s kind of a goofball and doesn’t exactly excel in the training department. If you tell him sit or stay he’ll probably just stand looking at you, slowly waving his tail. If you say come, he’s more likely to turn around and amble away. So when Tyler decided to enroll him in Nose Work classes, I thought he was being a little over-optimistic.
In case you’re not familiar with K9 Nose Work, it’s a scenting and search activity where the dog searches for specific smells in the way a drug-sniffing dog would. It’s not the same as tracking, where a dog actually follows the smell, so I was pretty skeptical of Frank’s ability to help our search.
“Great idea,” I lied, then I called Rooster to let him know we had a slight change of plan; we were heading to the foster parents’ house to get something for Frank to scent, then we’d go from there.
The foster mother, Kaylene, was genuinely distraught about the kids and readily handed us the pillow cases they’d slept on before she showed us in which direction the girls had run. “They took off like a pair of cheetahs,” she said. “I went after them, but my old body couldn’t get close to catching up.”
Tyler bent down and held the pillow cases under Frank’s nose. “Search!” Frank lay down and rested his head on his crossed paws. Oh, boy.
“Maybe we should start walking and try further down the street,” I suggested.
“That should do the trick,” Tyler said. Yeah, right.
He tugged at Frank’s lead, “Come on, Frank. Let’s go.” With a distinct lack of enthusiasm the dog got to his feet and padded beside us. We reached a crossroad and I looked back to see Kaylene pointing to the right.
“It’s this way,” I said, raising my arm in farewell to Kaylene. “Shall we try again?”
Once more Tyler offered the pillowcases to Frank, with words of encouragement, “Search, Frank. Come on buddy, you can do this, those girls need your help.” I gazed heavenward thinking I was going to have to burst my guy’s bubble soon, when a loud baying jolted me back to the present.
Frank’s whole posture had changed. His tail was up and his nose down, and he was tugging at his lead. Tyler and I exchanged startled looks before we took off with the dog. He was moving so fast we practically had to jog.
For half an hour we zig-zagged around. If this was the girls’ route it was obvious they didn’t know where they were going, but did Frank? The dog stayed determined and I was beginning to think I was going to owe him a special treat for doubting his tracking skills when we rounded another corner to face a row of food trucks.
The scent of hot dogs and hamburgers filled the air and I glared at Frank. We’d wasted time we couldn’t afford. Come to think of it, though, I hadn’t had breakfast and the smell was making me pretty hungry.
“Sorry this didn’t work out, honey,” I said to Tyler, “but let’s grab a bite while we’re here and then get back to the car.”
My guy just stared past me and wordlessly pointed to one of the trucks. I followed the direction of his arm, and walking purposefully toward a bright pink truck with pigs painted on the side and a sign proclaiming it to be “The Whole Hog,” was a small figure in a pink puffer coat…Ammi.
We moved towards the truck as Ammi reached the window and appeared to call out to whoever was serving. There were only a few people hanging around; it was early yet for the lunch crowd but as we got near, a figure, cloaked in a hoodie, strode up and grabbed Ammi by the arm and began to pull her away. She tried to tug herself free. Tyler and I rushed forward calling Ammi’s name and she found her voice, looking back at me and screaming, “Polleeee.”
A guy jumped from the back of the pink truck, brandishing a large kitchen knife at the abductor. At the same time a couple of the onlookers sprang into action and the kidnapper let go of Ammi and took off running with several people, including Tyler, giving chase. Ammi ran into my arms and I soothed her, mumbling things like “You’re safe, I’ve got you, it’s OK now,” while she heaved great, gasping sobs and buried her head in my shoulder. It just wasn’t right that at the mere age of six a child should have to go through so much trauma.
Thirteen
How could someone so little consume so much food? By the time Tyler reappeared Ammi was finishing her Pig Mac pork sandwich and getting ready to start on a large piece of butterm
ilk pie, with hot chocolate to drink of course. OK, so I was eating the same thing, but I’m a grown up.
We were seated at one of the small folding tables the vendors had set up, staying close to the heat coming from the trucks. Two more containers were on the table in front of us; one for Tyler, and a double burger, no bun, for Frank.
Tyler shook his head when I gave him a questioning look. “Whoever it was got clean away. We searched the area for a while, but there was no sign of him.”
He and Frank wearily flopped down and I pushed the food over to Tyler, then handed one of the burgers to Frank, who suddenly came alive again. “You’re a good boy, and I’m sorry I doubted you.” He graciously accepted my apology by practically chewing the grease off my fingers, so I gave him the second burger to distract him while I used a handi-wipe.
“Are you OK, Ammi?” Tyler stroked her hair and she looked at him with a mouthful of pie and nodded happily. I guess buttermilk pie can solve a lot of problems.
“Do we know where Sophie is?” Tyler turned his attention to me.
“Ammi said they were pretty lost. When they came across the food trucks she wanted to eat. Sophie objected on the grounds they needed to stay hidden and, besides, they had no money. Young Miss Junk-Food-Enthusiast here,” I cocked my head in the little girl’s direction, “didn’t see that as an obstacle and left her sister hiding in a doorway, and that’s where we came in. We were all so focused on Ammi, none of us noticed Sophie. I just hope to God she’s OK.”
“We need to call the Sheriff.”
“Already done,” I said and, as if on cue, a police cruiser pulled up beside the trucks and a couple of cops stepped out. Tyler stood and waved at them and they walked our way.
