Rules of the Ruff

by Heidi Lang

  “I am your cousin.” Ann’s voice quavered.

  “Not really. Not anymore.” Jessie got dressed and left the room before more words could come pouring out. They didn’t make her feel any better, and she didn’t want anything to ruin this morning.

  She ran her fingers through her messy hair, all thoughts of Ann fading as she slipped out the back door, shutting it softly behind her. Her aunt and uncle would be waking up by now, and the last thing she wanted was for one of them to stop her.

  It was already light out, the sky a faded blue. Jessie shivered. She knew it would be hot and muggy in a few hours, but right now she was wishing she’d worn a sweatshirt.

  When she reached the hedge that lined her aunt and uncle’s yard, she paused, remembering how she’d been staring at it the day she first saw Wes and his pack of dogs. It was after her first big fight with Ann, and the summer stretched ahead of her, long and boring and impossibly lonely. That day, as she sat outside listening to the whirring of bicycles and cars hurrying to better places, this hedge had seemed like an inescapable boundary.

  Until a flurry of dog barking split the quiet of the afternoon.

  Jessie ran her hand over the hedge’s prickly top, recalling that moment, the moment she’d finally figured out exactly what she should do this summer.

  It had been almost a week ago today.

  “Bear, you knock that off, you hear me?” a man yelled as a pack of five dogs pulled him around the corner, their leashes clipped to a hip pack he wore slung low on his waist. He wasn’t very tall, but his arms were well-muscled, and underneath his soft stomach Jessie could tell he used to be in pretty good shape. Probably an athlete before he got old.

  “I said stop, Bear! That squirrel is long gone.” The man tugged at one of his leashes, and Bear, a large black mutt with lopsided ears, gave one last bark and then lapsed into happy silence, his tongue lolling out of his mouth.

  The Australian shepherd next to Bear made a little noise. “Don’t you start, Presto.” The man clucked his tongue, flicked the leashes like they were a horse’s reins, and got all the dogs moving in formation. It was like magic. Jessie couldn’t take her eyes off it, all those dogs walking together, looking so happy. She had to go see them.

  She leapt over the hedge and jogged toward them. “Excuse me, can I pet your dogs?”

  “No,” the man said, not bothering to look at her. “Go away.”

  His dogs shot her curious glances, and one of them, a yellow Labrador wearing a pink harness, darted over to lick her hands.

  “Sweetpea, you stop that.” He tugged at the Lab, but Sweetpea had decided to sit, and now all the dogs moved around in a jumble, ignoring the man and his curses as he struggled to straighten them out and get them moving again.

  Jessie snuck a quick pat of Sweetpea’s soft head before he pulled the dog away. “This is why I don’t stop to talk,” he snarled at Jessie as he adjusted all the tangled leashes.

  “Are you a professional dog walker?”

  “No, these are all mine.”

  “Really?”

  He raised his eyebrows. “Sure, kid, and I have a bridge to sell you, too.”

  “You sell bridges?”

  He sighed. Sweetpea inched closer to Jessie. “Yes, I walk dogs. Professionally. See this?” He jerked a thumb at his hip pack. “Do you see people casually walking their dogs wearing one of these beauties?”

  “Um, no . . .”

  “No is right. Now, I doubt you’d go harass a fireman in the middle of hosing down a burning building, would you?”

  “Firefighter,” Jessie said automatically. “You’re supposed to use the gender-neutral term.” Her father had drilled that into her head.

  He scowled. “Like I was saying, you’d notice his uniform and that he was busy and leave him alone.”

  “Or her.”

  His mouth twisted. “I can see you have honed the fine art of being annoying to an impressive level.”

  “Thanks!” Jessie beamed.

  He shook his head. “Come on, dogs.” He started walking but was brought up short once again. His forehead wrinkled and he growled, “Sweetpea, come.”

  Sweetpea must have known she was in trouble; she reluctantly stopped inching toward Jessie and allowed herself to be herded along with the others.

  Jessie had watched them until they disappeared around the corner. When you’re a little older, we’ll get a dog . . . Her mother had promised her, but that was before she got sick. And after, all her promises had scattered like dry leaves in the fall, crumbling to dust. After, Jessie had been afraid to ask her dad about it, in case he crumbled, too. But seeing that strange man with his magical pack of dogs made her realize here was her chance: She might not have her own dog, but she could borrow one. She could borrow a whole pack.

  She’d decided then and there that she would become a dog walker, too. She’d get that grumpy old guy to take her on as an assistant, and then she’d spend her whole summer surrounded by dogs.

  Jessie gave herself a little shake, letting the memory fade, but the excitement filling her stomach remained. Excitement and a little bit of nervousness. She thought of those emotions as peanut butter and jelly, so sticky it was hard to tell where the line between them was.

  Picking up her pace, she jogged the remaining blocks to Wes’s house.

  Wes sat on his front porch, a steaming mug in his hand. He wore a red-and-orange plaid flannel shirt over his normal white tank top, and his eyes narrowed on Jessie as she ran up. “You’re late.”

  “You said seven. It’s seven.”

  Wes tapped his wristwatch, then held it out to her.

  Jessie squinted at it. It read 7:03 A.M. “Your watch is fast,” she decided.

  He made a show of sipping from his mug and didn’t answer.

  “Coffee?” Jessie asked.

  “No, green tea.”

  “Green tea?” Jessie made a face. “Don’t all adults drink coffee?”

  “Coffee is a crutch. I don’t believe in it.” Wes took another sip.

  “You don’t believe in coffee?”

  He sighed and put his mug down on a little ceramic coaster on his top step. “We need to establish some ground rules. And the first one is no questions.”

  “Is that one of the Rules of the Ruff?” Jessie asked excitedly.

  “What did I tell you about questions?”

  “Not to ask them?”

  “Is that another question?” he demanded.

  Jessie thought about it. “Maybe?” She grinned.

  Wes rubbed the furrow between his eyebrows, muttering to himself. Jessie caught the words “irritating” and “child.” Then he stood up. “Let’s get this over with. Come.”

  “What about your mug?”

  “No questions!”

  Jessie followed Wes to his car, sparing one more glance at the mug sitting lost and alone on the top step. It made her think of Ann, and she looked away quickly.

  “You’re not sitting in the front,” Wes said. “So just get that idea out of your head right now. Kids ride in back.”

  “Is that another one of those Ruff Rules?” Jessie asked as she climbed into the back, disturbing a layer of dog fur. It rose in a cloud around her, settling into her hair and clothes as she fastened her seat belt. She wrinkled her nose but didn’t bother trying to brush it off. It would be a wasted effort.

  “Rules of the Ruff, and no. This is just my own personal rule.” Wes started the car and backed jerkily out of his driveway. “The first house isn’t far, it’s walkable distance. But this way I can get to the others without stopping back.”

  He made a left at the end of the street, then another left. They were heading in the direction of the candy store, Jessie noted. She purposely didn’t think of the park, where they were also heading. She never wanted to see Max again. It would be too embarrassing. And then she remembered. “Oh no,” she groaned.

  “What?”

  “My soccer ball. I left it . . . never mind.” J
essie tried not to picture her ball sitting there, all abandoned in the middle of the park. Or worse, stolen by someone else. She would have to swing by the park again, after all. “What’s the first Rule, then? Of the Ruff?” she asked, trying to distract herself.

  “Rule Number One: If you have calm, confident energy, you can do anything. Dogs respect calm, confident energy. And if you don’t have it, fake it.”

  Jessie worked his words through her mind. “I’m not sure I understand,” she admitted as Wes pulled into a driveway. The house was a cheerful mint green with a wide, friendly porch that wrapped around the front.

  “Well then, you won’t pass this first test, and that’ll be that.”

  “You mean, this is a test?”

  “Of course it’s a test.”

  “But that’s not fair.”

  “Isn’t it? You pass, and I continue to teach you. You fail?” He shrugged, then got out of the car.

  Jessie’s stomach tightened. She had to pee, but she knew this wasn’t the time. It was like right before a big soccer game. It was just nerves. Still, as she followed Wes to the side of the house and stared at the large “Beware of Dog” sign hung on the tall wooden fence, she began to think that it wasn’t just nerves. No, she really had to pee.

  “What kind of dog is this?”

  Wes flashed her a grin. “Are you familiar with pit bulls?”

  “A little.” Jessie swallowed nervously, remembering all the stories she’d heard of pit bulls mauling people, of their jaws locking when they bit down, so even in death they couldn’t be opened.

  “Most of what you’ve heard is a lie. They are usually very sweet and loving dogs.” Wes handed her a worn green leash.

  “U-usually?” Jessie clenched the leash, feeling it dig into her palm. “What about this one?”

  “His name is Angel.”

  “And is that an appropriate name for him?” Jessie’s heart hammered in her ears, and she thought she could hear something growling on the other side of the fence. Something big.

  “Not really,” Wes said, chuckling. “Now, for this first test, I want you to go in there and leash him. Be careful, he jumps. And remember the first Rule. You need to be calm, confident. Otherwise Angel won’t respect you. And he doesn’t respond well if you don’t have his respect.”

  “Wait, what does that mean? ‘Doesn’t respond well’?”

  “I told you, no questions.”

  “But that’s just very vague, and—”

  Wes pulled on the gate latch and shoved Jessie through, then yanked the gate shut behind her.

  “H-hey!” she sputtered.

  “Just do your job,” Wes called from the safe side of the fence.

  “My job.” Jessie turned nervously, but she was alone in the small grass yard. A massive doghouse dominated the space, but its entrance appeared dark and empty. At her feet were the remains of a rubber toy, ripped in half, as well as the carcasses of several unfortunate tennis balls and a few stuffed animals. “Uh, I don’t think he’s here,” Jessie said hopefully. She nudged one of the toys with her sneaker, flipping it onto its back. A teddy bear stared back at her, the head badly bitten, stuffing oozing out of the neck. It had only one eye.

  A low growl raised the hairs on the back of Jessie’s neck. She lifted her head. And then she realized the dog wasn’t in his doghouse. Angel was right behind her.

  Jessie turned, but she felt like she was moving in a dream, all slow motion and thick gravy air. Angel stood only a few feet away, his fur a glossy brown, his eyes wide and deep. He was huge, his chest twice as wide as Jessie’s, his leg muscles bulging.

  Angel growled again, his lips pulling back to show off his teeth, and Jessie took a step back, then another, holding the leash in front of her like it was a shield. “H-hey, Angel. G-good boy.”

  Angel barked, and Jessie dropped the leash and scrambled for the gate latch. It wouldn’t open. “Wes! Wes, let me out!” She pounded at the gate.

  “You need to face this, kid.”

  She turned and faced Angel. It was not an improvement. “He’s not happy to see me!”

  “Remember the first Rule.”

  “I don’t. I forgot it. I’m not ready!”

  Wes snorted. “Not ready. I don’t believe in this ‘not ready’ nonsense. Do you think dogs need time to prepare? No. They act, or they do not act. You must achieve the mind of a dog to properly walk a dog.”

  “What does that even mea—aagh!”

  Angel’s leg muscles bunched, and then he was airborne, his front paws catching Jessie right in the chest and knocking her to the ground. Jessie landed so hard all the air whooshed out of her lungs, and she was left gasping with the pit bull on top of her, those teeth inches from her face.

  CHAPTER 3

  Jessie couldn’t breathe. Angel’s paws were crushing the life out of her, and she had a face full of dog breath and saliva. All she could see were teeth, lots and lots of teeth, plenty to get the job done. She closed her eyes. This was it. She was going to die beneath the paws of a dog.

  Slurp!

  Jessie’s eyes shot open.

  Slurp. Slurp. Angel’s tongue caught Jessie across her whole face and nose, leaving them cold and wet and sticky. It was completely disgusting but better than having her face chomped. Probably.

  Jessie squirmed until she managed to free herself from under Angel. She wiped her face on her sleeve as she sat up, uncomfortably aware of the dog’s steady, unblinking gaze.

  “You still alive, kid?” Wes called.

  “Yes,” Jessie said. “Barely.”

  “Oh, good. I was not looking forward to the paperwork involved otherwise.”

  Jessie scowled. “Well, I’m glad I didn’t inconvenience you.” She stood, and so did Angel.

  Jessie eyed the dog. She felt bruised all over; the last thing she wanted was a repeat flying tackle. “Sit,” she ordered.

  Angel ignored her command completely, his tongue lolling. Was he laughing at her? She took a deep breath, remembering the first Rule. Calm and confident. Too bad she didn’t feel either of those things. Her hands still shook and she kept picturing Angel’s teeth looming over her face.

  Angel made a little whining noise, and Jessie’s heart beat faster. She shook her arms out, letting her breath go. Calm and confident. Calm and confident. Repeating the words wasn’t helping, so instead she pictured a great big redwood tree. She’d seen tons of them last year when her father picked up that lumber job in California. They had seemed so proud, like they would be there forever. Like the world could change around them, but they never would. Jessie liked that. She imagined herself as one of them, her feet as roots, her arms as branches, her body solid as wood.

  She looked at Angel. “Sit.”

  Angel sat.

  Relief made Jessie light-headed. It was working. “Stay.” She took a step back and Angel stayed. “I’m a natural,” she whispered. She felt as if she’d just scored the winning goal in a game.

  She found her discarded leash a few feet away. Angel whined again, his tail kicking up dirt behind him, his large brown eyes fixed intently on the leash in Jessie’s hands.

  Here was the moment of truth. Jessie swallowed hard as she moved closer to Angel. Even sitting, the dog’s head reached her waist, and there was no getting around those bulging muscles. Jessie held her breath as she leaned over him, moving her hands closer to that mouth to clip the leash onto Angel’s metal-studded collar. Angel smiled up at her, still sitting patiently like the best dog in the world.

  Tentatively, Jessie put out a hand and scratched behind Angel’s left ear. He leaned his head into it, and she relaxed. “Aww, you’re a friendly pit, aren’t you?”

  “Are you having a party in there, or what?” Wes asked. “Hurry it up, kid. The leashing is supposed to be the easy part. We still need to walk the dog.”

  Jessie rolled her eyes. The easy part? Yeah, right. Holding the leash tightly in both hands, she told Angel, “heel,” and walked to the gate. Angel tr
otted obediently at her side, and Jessie knocked confidently at the gate.

  “Is he leashed?” Wes asked.

  “You bet.”

  “OK, hold on tight.” The gate opened.

  Angel gave Jessie one last loving look, his brown eyes wide and warm and innocent, and then bam! He shot through the open gate so fast he dragged Jessie through like a kite in a hurricane. Wes lunged forward to catch her, but Jessie was already past him and still moving fast, stumbling and sliding behind Angel as the dog sprinted down the street. She heard a loud crash and then even louder cursing and knew she was on her own.

  “Ground yourself, kid!” Wes hollered. “Drop your weight, bend your arms and knees. And for the love of dog, don’t let go of that leash!”

  Jessie’s knuckles were white, her arms shaking. She couldn’t drop her weight, couldn’t bend her arms, could only run as Angel picked up speed, and the houses and yards and happy, carefree people blurred behind her. Jessie had never run so fast in her life. Not in any of her soccer practices, not even when they’d practiced sprints. Her world narrowed to the dog charging forward, the leash clutched desperately in her hand, and her legs turning over and over. She ran until she tasted blood in the back of her throat and her hands went numb, until her lungs burned and her legs ached, and then she ran some more.

  And then Angel abruptly sat down. Jessie’s arm jerked to a sudden stop, her feet carrying her a few steps before she was able to catch herself. Gasping, she put her hands on her knees, the leash digging into her left palm. She managed to take several deep, shaky breaths, her head pounding, before she straightened and glared down at the pit bull.

  Angel panted, his whole tongue drooping out of his wide-open mouth.

  “You,” Jessie gasped, shaking her head at the dog. “You’d better be tired.”

  Angel stretched out on the sidewalk, his body moving with each panting breath.

  “Yeah, I thought so.” Jessie stretched her aching back and looked around.

  They were in a nice neighborhood, the houses here all two or three stories tall with wide, green lawns and carefully manicured bushes. Jessie felt like she’d been running for hours, but it was probably more like fifteen minutes; it was still early and hardly anyone was out yet. Down the road, a man was enthusiastically washing his car, while two houses away, three little girls played jump rope next to a middle-aged woman reclining on a lounge chair, but otherwise it was quiet. There was no sign of Wes.