Pup Fiction

by Laurien Berenson

  “Actually, that’s pretty much where the plot ends.”

  “I hope no one was hurt,” said Sam.

  “Thankfully, no. By the time we arrived, Emily had recaptured the puppies and locked them away.”

  Aunt Peg was not appeased. Judging by the frown on her face, she was thinking about the lecture she wanted to deliver to Emily.

  I took another sip of coffee and repeated my earlier question, “Aunt Peg, why are you here?”

  “Apparently, I came to listen to a story about Dalmatian puppies,” she retorted. “And not a very good one at that.”

  As if I would believe that. Aunt Peg had never even heard of the puppies until five minutes ago. The woman was the queen of ulterior motives. I knew she had to be up to something.

  The Poodle pack came circling back to us. Tar and Augie were exhilarated by their run. The two males looked ready to take another lap around the big yard. Faith, Eve, and Raven joined us on the deck to lie down in the shade.

  I put my mug down on a side table and went inside to fill a bowl with cold water for the dogs. I expected to find Bud in the pantry. Instead he was in the kitchen, sitting in front of the refrigerator and staring at the closed door hopefully. Faith knew how to open the appliance, but thankfully she hadn’t taught that trick to Bud.

  “There’s nothing in there for you,” I said as I picked up the water bowl from the floor and rinsed it out.

  Bud hopped to his feet. His stubby tail wagged so energetically that his hindquarters were wiggling from side to side. That little dog was cute, and he knew it.

  “I can’t feed you,” I told him when I’d turned off the tap. “Otherwise, I’d have to give the Poodles something too.”

  They’re outside! Bud shimmied some more. A black-spotted ear flopped up and down over one eye. I won’t tell!

  Oh, for Pete’s sake. I set the full bowl of water down on the counter, then crossed the kitchen in three quick steps. There was an open bag of kibble in the pantry—now stored high enough that Bud couldn’t reach it. I put my hand inside and pulled out two small pieces.

  Bud was right behind me. His mouth was open and ready. His pink tongue slipped out and flicked the kibble out of my fingers. Bud didn’t even bother to chew before swallowing.

  “Happy now?” I asked.

  He jumped up to dance on his hind legs. Again! Again!

  I didn’t even dignify that with a reply. Instead I went to get the water dish, then made sure that Bud came too when I went back outside. I set the big bowl down on the deck, and Raven and Eve drank noisily. Tar and Augie had run off again. Faith was lying underneath my chair.

  “What did I miss?” I asked Sam.

  “We were talking about the dog show on Saturday,” he said. “Peg thinks Coral will have a good shot at taking the major in Standard bitches.”

  Of course she thought that. The woman never lacked for confidence. Plus, she was Coral’s breeder. So, in the way of good dog breeders everywhere, she was predisposed to admire her own bitch.

  Which was not to say that Coral didn’t have many admirable qualities. She was a lovely Standard Poodle, the product of numerous generations of Aunt Peg’s superior breeding. Had Aunt Peg been planning to show Coral herself, the win probably would have been a lock. Instead, fourteen-year-old Davey would be in the show ring at the end of Coral’s leash.

  That partnership had been formed the previous summer when the Poodle was just beginning her show career. Aunt Peg, Coral’s owner, was busy with her own judging duties. Also, she was loath to appear in other judges’ rings and perhaps incite talk of impropriety.

  After Davey had shown Augie to his championship, he’d been eager to continue honing his handling skills. When Aunt Peg asked for his help, he’d quickly agreed. In theory, the alliance should have benefited both of them. In reality, the pair often found themselves arguing over who was in charge.

  Coral had won five of the fifteen points needed to become a champion by the time she turned a year old. At that point, she’d taken time off from the show ring to grow into her new adult trim.

  The young bitch now looked very elegant in her continental clip, with a large coat of mane hair covering the front half of her body, rounded bracelets and rosettes on her lower legs and hips, and a glorious pompon on the end of her tail. Since February, she and Davey had amassed an additional five points. That meant Coral was now in need of two major wins to finish her championship.

  In dog show competition, points are awarded to the Winners Dog and Winners Bitch based on the number of same-sex dogs beaten on the day. The number can be as low as a single point or as high as five. Included in the total of fifteen, a dog must also win two “majors,” meaning he must defeat enough competition for the win to be worth three or more points.

  Major wins are hard to come by and highly prized. At times, that level of competition can also be difficult to find. Coral was now in the unenviable position known in the dog show world as “stuck for majors.”

  So this upcoming dog show, with its healthy entry in Standard Poodle bitches, mattered a lot. To all of us.

  I narrowed my eyes and stared at Aunt Peg. She’d brought Eve up onto the lounge chair beside her, and her fingers were tangling idly through the Poodle’s topknot.

  “Davey’s looking forward to the show,” I said. “He’s ready.”

  “I’m sure he thinks he is,” she replied. “But one can never be too prepared.”

  “What does that mean exactly?” Sam asked. In the past, we’d both been frustrated by Aunt Peg’s attempts to micromanage everything about Davey’s performance.

  “I was just thinking that a little tune-up of his skills wouldn’t be a bad thing.” She smiled complacently. “I’d be happy to step in and give him a handling lesson.”

  No way, I thought. Aunt Peg’s constructive criticism had about as much finesse as King Kong had used to swat down pesky airplanes.

  “I’m sure that won’t be necessary,” I said.

  “Let’s not forget, there’s a major on the line.”

  There seemed to be very little chance that any of us would forget that. Which was why ratcheting up the pressure on Davey to put in a stellar performance was precisely the wrong way to go about things.

  “If it will make you feel better, I can work with him this week,” said Sam.

  Aunt Peg frowned, then nodded. “I suppose that will have to do.” She nudged Eve gently to one side and stood up. “I’ll be going then. Thank you for the tea and the lovely company.”

  It was unlike Aunt Peg to give in so easily, I thought. Could that truly be all she’d wanted?

  I glanced over at Sam. He just shrugged. He was baffled too.

  “We could have had this conversation over the phone,” I pointed out.

  “What would be the fun in that?” Aunt Peg asked. “Besides, I thought you two might be lonely, with both boys out of the house now. There’s a name for that, isn’t there? Empty nest syndrome?”

  She had to know that referred to teenagers leaving for college. And adulthood. Not nursery school summer camp. But whatever.

  Sam and I followed Aunt Peg to the gate. Hand resting on the latch, she paused as if something had just occurred to her. “Oh. There was one other thing I wanted to mention.”

  And here it came. Finally.

  “What will you be doing a month from now, say around the second week of August?”

  Sam and I shared a look. It was summer vacation. Who bothered to plan that far ahead? Certainly not us.

  “Umm . . .” I said.

  “Good answer,” Aunt Peg replied. “I was hoping I could count on you to do me a small favor.”

  “Sure,” Sam replied.

  I kicked him in the ankle. Hadn’t his long association with my family—and particularly with Aunt Peg—taught him anything? Never make a promise until you find out what you’re getting into.

  “You know Willow,” Aunt Peg said.

  Sam and I both nodded. Willow was one of Aunt Peg�
��s Standard Poodles. A beautiful bitch, she was also Coral’s dam.

  “She’s pregnant.”

  “What?” I yelped. That was a surprise. “Since when?”

  Sam didn’t need to ask. He was already counting backward.

  “Early June,” Aunt Peg informed us blithely. “I wasn’t sure the breeding would take, but it did. Since there’s nothing on your schedule, I was thinking you two might like to whelp a litter of puppies for me.”

  Chapter 4

  “Holy moly,” I said. “How did that happen?”

  “Quite on purpose, I assure you,” Aunt Peg replied. “A great deal of planning and forethought went into this mating.”

  “But why didn’t you tell us?”

  “I’m telling you now. I didn’t mention it to anyone beforehand. It’s madness for someone with my schedule to even consider having a litter of puppies. But what choice did I have? Willow isn’t getting any younger. This will be her last litter.”

  “Puppies,” said Sam. He had a goofy grin on his face.

  I probably did too. Who didn’t love a litter of puppies?

  “There was just one thing I couldn’t control,” Aunt Peg said.

  We all knew what that was.

  “Of course, Willow came in season at an inconvenient time,” she continued. “But I didn’t dare let her go by again. So I went ahead and did the breeding, even though I’d already committed to an out-of-state judging assignment the week the litter will be due.”

  “Who did you breed her to?” Sam asked. He and Aunt Peg could spend hours discussing Standard Poodle families and pedigrees and all the possible ways to combine them.

  Aunt Peg named a West Coast dog whose progeny she had judged and admired. The dog’s owner was an old friend of hers, and their bloodlines had mingled throughout the years with excellent results.

  “Good choice,” I said.

  Aunt Peg nodded. If the mating hadn’t been a good choice—or, more accurately, an excellent choice—she wouldn’t have done it.

  Somehow, I couldn’t stop smiling. I’d known Aunt Peg was up to something, but I’d never expected this.

  Caring for a litter of puppies was a big commitment. Even when they weren’t your own. Maybe especially then. Puppies needed plenty of quality care and attention. They took over your house. And your lives. Maybe Sam and I should discuss this before agreeing . . .

  Oh, who was I kidding? I thought. Puppies were more fun than anything else in the world.

  “We’ll do it,” I said.

  Aunt Peg unlatched the gate and let herself out. “Of course you will. I never doubted it for a minute.”

  “She takes us for granted,” I said to Sam as we watched Aunt Peg drive away.

  “Yes, but this time I don’t mind.” Sam’s smile was back. “We’re going to have a litter of puppies.”

  “No, Aunt Peg is going to have puppies,” I corrected him. “We’re just the surrogate parents.”

  “Close enough. Wait until the boys find out.”

  Yikes. I hadn’t even thought about that.

  We turned back toward the house. “And here I’d thought we were going to have a nice quiet summer,” I said.

  Sam looked skeptical. “Did you ever actually believe that?”

  “I was trying to.”

  “Good luck with that,” he said.

  * * *

  Predictably, when they heard the news, Davey and Kevin were even more excited about it than Sam and I were.

  Kevin and Bud danced around the living room together. Kev’s sneakers squeaked on the hardwood floor. His T-shirt, rumpled and stained from camp, twisted around his narrow waist as he and Bud spun circles around each other.

  “A new puppy for me!” he cried. “I’m going to name him Fluffy.”

  “Not so fast,” I said.

  Kev stopped dancing. So did Bud. The two of them stared at me with wide eyes. I hated always having to be the bad guy.

  “You were the one with the goofy grin,” I said to Sam. “You explain it to him.”

  Sam nodded. Then instead, he changed the subject. He hunkered down to Kev’s level. “How was your first day of camp?”

  Kev’s face lit up. Suddenly, he was happy again. “It was grrreat!”

  “Did you make lots of new friends?”

  “Yup.”

  “Swim in the pool?”

  “Yup.”

  Davey started laughing. A teenager, he was usually the one with the one-word answers.

  “How about you?” I asked him.

  “What?” As if he didn’t know.

  “How was your first day of being a counselor?”

  Davey considered the question. He was munching on an apple he’d nabbed in the kitchen. “Not bad,” he decided after a minute.

  “Care to elaborate?” asked Sam.

  “Not really.”

  Ookay.

  “Aunt Peg came by this morning,” I told him. “She wanted to talk about Saturday’s dog show.”

  “I know it’s a major,” Davey said. “And that it’s a big deal. I’m good to go. She doesn’t need to check up on me.”

  “That’s what we told her.”

  “For real?”

  “For real,” Sam replied. “You and I can practice with Tar this week if you want. But it’s up to you.”

  “Nope.” Davey shook his head. “I’m good.”

  “He’s good,” Kevin echoed solemnly. “I’m good too.”

  “Well, that’s a pleasant state of affairs,” I said. “Let’s hope it lasts.”

  * * *

  We made it all the way until Thursday before something went wrong. Three days without a major problem turning up? In my house, that means we’re doing great.

  Davey looked upset when I picked the boys up at camp that afternoon. “What’s the matter?” I asked.

  He glanced at Kevin and shook his head. I understood that shorthand. I’d often used it myself. Davey and I would talk when we got home.

  Sam was working in his home office, so I got Kev settled in the living room with a video game and a juice box. Yes, I know. But sometimes when you’re a mother, expediency wins out. Besides, Kevin had just enjoyed an active day at camp. So I was pretty sure that one hour of lazy parenting wouldn’t ruin his life.

  Davey and I sat down in the kitchen. The Poodles fanned out on the floor around us. Bud was on the couch with Kev. At least I hoped he was.

  There were three peaches in a bowl in the middle of the table. I offered one to Davey, then took one for myself. He stared at the piece of fruit in his hand as if he wasn’t sure what to do with it.

  I hadn’t yet heard a thing, and already I didn’t like the way this conversation was shaping up.

  “Something happened today at camp,” Davey said. His expression was grave.

  “To Kevin?” I asked quickly. I started to rise.

  A slight shake of Davey’s head made me sit back down.

  “To you?”

  “Kind of. But not really.”

  “You’re going to have to explain things better than that.”

  “It was weird.”

  Weird, I knew. Weird was my stock in trade. But it wasn’t Davey’s.

  I gave him a few seconds to gather his thoughts. I waited while he ate two bites of his peach. Juice dribbled down his chin. I got up to get him a napkin, then sat back down. Still waiting. I made myself take a deep breath and slowly let it out.

  “No pressure,” I said. “Start at the beginning. Or anywhere else that makes sense.”

  “Ms. Grace keeps an old pickup truck at the school,” he began. “It’s, like, ancient. Probably a classic. Maybe you’ve seen it?”

  I nodded. That truck had been around for as long as I’d been going to Graceland. It was a Chevy of some kind, painted a ridiculously shiny shade of red. Usually, it sat parked inside a carport behind the main building. I’d never seen anyone drive it. When Emily needed to go somewhere, she zipped around in a Toyota.

  “What abou
t it?” I asked.

  “Actually, it’s kind of a cool truck.” Davey had always been fascinated by anything with an engine. “Way back when I was a camper, I asked Ms. Grace about it. She told me it was from the 1960s.”

  “No wonder no one ever drives it,” I said. “I wonder if it even runs.”

  “It did today,” Davey told me. “That was the problem.”

  “What problem?” I asked. Belatedly, it occurred to me that I probably shouldn’t have told him to start at the beginning.

  “It ended up in the pond.”

  “Emily’s truck?”

  Davey nodded. Now that things were finally getting interesting, he paused to take another bite of his peach.

  “How?” I asked. “When?”

  “Right before lunch. Courtney and I were at the playground with the Jellyfish kids. Suddenly, we heard someone screaming behind the other building. Courtney said she had our kids under control, so I went to see what was wrong. When I ran around the corner, I couldn’t believe it. The red truck was rolling down the hill toward the pond.”

  “Who was driving it?” I asked.

  “That’s just it. There wasn’t anyone inside. The truck must have been in gear with its brake off. It went flying down the incline, bumping up and down over the lawn.”

  “That’s bizarre,” I said with a frown. “Who was screaming?”

  “It was Sarah. She and Tom are the Goldfish counselors. It looked like they’d just had their kids down at the pond, and now they were coming back up the hill for lunch.”

  I sucked in a breath. “Was the truck heading their way?”

  “Not exactly. But it was heading for where they’d been a few minutes earlier. Sarah and Tom were quick to pull all the kids off to the side. The truck missed them by at least twenty feet. It rolled past and kept going until it landed in the pond with a big splash.”

  “And everyone was all right?” I asked quickly.

  “Yeah, they were fine.” Davey didn’t look nearly as upset as I felt. “I went over to see if Sarah and Tom needed any help. Their kids thought it was a big adventure. They were all pointing and laughing, like the whole thing was really funny.”

  It didn’t sound funny at all to me. “Then what happened? Did the truck sink?”

  “Not all the way. It must have gotten caught up in the mud because it stopped before it was fully submerged. The cabin was mostly underwater, though. The door wasn’t shut, so you could see inside. The water came all the way up to the seats. Ms. Grace isn’t going to be happy about that.”