by Hammond, T.
The door to his room opened again, and another shuffle to the bathroom. I made a wild guess, “Morning, Janey.”
“Whatever,” she mumbled back to me, undaunted in her quest for bladder relief, or was it a purge? Evidently, there was an option four. Poor them.
Aspirin would be needed for my two best buds. I poured two small glasses of orange juice and waited in the hall with OJ and pills in hand. As my undead friend started to shuffle by me, I said, “Halt. Take aspirin. Take juice.” Once my instructions were followed, I held out the other juice and aspirin. “Take these to your partner in crime and make sure he ingests them.”
I received another, “Whatever,” in response (yes, I use the term “response” somewhat tongue-in-cheekily) before the walking husk of my friend disappeared into the depths of Ken's man cave. The door closed behind her with a soft 'click.'
I chuckled evilly, ha! That will teach them to take part in sabotaging my date. But, I admit, it was very well done, especially the part of the plot when Bas had David drive him home (okay, hotel—whatever) to ensure he didn't sleep over. My mouth tilted up in a grin. I do admire a well-executed plan.
My eyes narrowed dangerously as I considered this further. At what point did my friends consider my moral code wavered to allow me to sleep with a man on the first date? Okay, so I spouted a bit of bravado at Cat about picking up some guy at dinner. Even if Bas thought I might actually do something like that, despite our revealing conversation yesterday, I expected Ken and Janey to know better. I glared what I hoped were daggers at their closed door. Thanks for the vote of confidence, pals.
It was another hour, and coincidentally three cups of coffee later, when the door to Ken's room opened again. I was on the couch, out of view of the bedroom doorway, so I raised my voice to call out, “Greetings, you have landed on planet Earth. There is no intelligent life here, but we do have coffee.”
Janey recovered enough to snicker and I heard her footsteps pad to the kitchen where she poured herself a cup. “Are we expecting Ken anytime soon?” I asked with a smile. “And if you say ‘whatever’ to me again, I will be forced to turn the TV on and play the Accordion Music Channel at top volume.”
“Oh no, anything but that. I can't imagine adding squeeze-box to the percussion already going on in my brain,” she protested. “You know you used to be nicer. Threatening me with accordion music is cruel.”
“Yeah, speaking of cruel friends... what's with the date intervention last night? I can see Bas might think I'd be ho-ing around, but you two should know better.”
“It seemed the lesser of the two evils. Bas was determined to hang out on your front porch to make sure you got home at a decent hour. He didn’t say so explicitly, but I'm sure he didn't trust you not to succumb to David's sexy good looks. I mean, come on, the man is a god!”
A god? Really? I stared in her direction with, what I hoped was, a bland expression. “Well, Janey. You know how good looks are so important to me, seeing as how I'm so superficial and not to mention, blind. Yep, a pretty face and fluttering eyelashes roll me onto my back every time.”
The silence was deafening. “Well, when you put it that way, it does seem pretty idiotic, doesn't it,” Ken said from the hallway. “But Bas was being an ass about it, so we decided to play poker so you wouldn’t come home to an angry man on the doorstep.”
I couldn't help myself. “Red came up with the term Bas-hole,” I shared. We all enjoyed a joke at Bastian's expense.
“So, David's a god?” I mused, hinting for a few more details. “Weird, I never thought to ask him what he looks like. His manner and attitude are attractive. I think his voice is sexy. And damn, if I scored him on kissing alone, he'd be a 10.”
“Oh honey, when I said you were in trouble, I was scoring the complete package.” At that Ken cleared his throat, causing Janey to amend. ”Well, minus the kissing. He's a 12. He gets extra credit for his body alone. He's an inch taller than Bas, maybe two. Lean like a runner, with corded muscles, not the bodybuilder physique my brother has. Dark brown hair, his eyes are hazel, maybe a touch toward the green-side. His other extra credit point goes to his smile. Generous, a little shy... well, until he looks at you, then there's a little hint of the devil in there, too.”
Janey sighed, heavily, “I should probably give another bonus point for the way he walks. He's got this gliding roll-action which makes a woman simply wanna watch his hips move.” Her voice was almost purring, as she added, “He’s got this lazy, sexy stride; like he has all the time in the world to get where he’s going. It makes a woman wonder if that’s how he approaches sex.”
“Errr, boyfriend. Standing right here,” Ken interjected, although his tone made it obvious he was not truly upset his main squeeze was intimately described another man in his presence.
“Ha! Four days ago you would have totally done him,” Janey teased.
“True,” Ken conceded, solemnly. “But, I've had the love of a good woman to set me on the proper path, away from the dark side. You have my solemn promise: I will never look at another man.”
“Whatever,” Janey snorted, half-laughing. “Is Red still sleeping?” she asked, correctly deciding it was better to change the subject than listen to Ken's drivel.
“No, he's the reason I was up by six this morning,” I replied. “He wanted to go outside to defend the yard from an encroaching cat problem.
“Which reminds me. Ken, can you see what needs to be done to put a dog door in? Maybe one of those glass panels that fit on the sliders? It would be nice if Red could let himself in and out, and there should be no problems with the six foot fences we have.”
“You do know there will come a point when he can clear that height if he wants to, right?” Janey asked me. “Especially, since he can get such a good running start across the lawn.”
“I suppose I can make up a story about an anonymous male dog who tried to clear a tall fence and lost his nuts when they got caught in the links. He seems to prize his boy bits, so that might make him think twice.”
“Oh man, that's wrong.” I could hear the cringe in Ken's voice.
“It’s the off-the-cuff stories you can make up which cause me to worship at the shrine of your devious nature,” Janey said in awe. “I find it truly scary you can keep a straight face when you say stuff like that.”
“It’s a gift,” I replied humbly. “Although, Red can probably tell if I'm lying. I’ll have to say it casually, when the air is already fragrant with bullshit. More than likely, I will tell him straight up if he jumps the fence I'll have to kennel him. He is a dog and has a dog's instincts, but he has a level of awareness which seems to be above normal.”
“Well, be sure to mention no chasing deer either.” Ken warned. “The deer can easily clear your fences, and you don't want him chasing game.”
“Speaking of Red, Ken, would you mind checking to see if he's ready to come in yet? All his plotting has probably made him hungry,” I predicted.
Red dashed through the back door, heading straight for the water dish. He must have slurped up water for a good twenty seconds before he came in to the living room to lie down at my feet. “Hey buddy, how's the cat eradication going?”
“The cat was there, as I suspected,” he grumbled. “I also caught some other scents by the water, but I don't know what they are called.”
“Although a screen covers the shallow end, this time of year we have a lot of animals coming down to drink at the pond. It could have been raccoon, duck, deer, turkey, squirrel, or skunk. Oh, gosh, please tell me you know what a skunk is and you know to stay away from them!”
“Not bird smells. I know deer, and they weren’t what I smelled. Squirrels are the small animals that run across the top of the wooden fence, right?” Red referred to a section of the fence at the side yard, between the house and the garage, consisting of wood panels.
Ken confirmed the squirrels used the fence tops, adding, “They’re the little animals who like to climb the bird feeders and st
eal seeds.” We then explained the difference between raccoons and skunks.
“Both raccoon and skunk can be mean and aggressive, especially if they have babies.” After a moment’s thought, I added, “If you smell a skunk, please don't get close enough for it to spray you. The smell is horrible and it would take weeks to get rid of the odor from your coat. I wouldn't be able to take you anywhere. You would be forced to stay outside until it faded.”
Janey emphasized, solemnly, “People find it really offensive so we'd avoid you for a while, and I doubt dogs like it much better. It is so strong an odor, you might have problems smelling other stuff.”
“Maybe a skunk will spray the cat next door. That will keep it out of my yard,” Red said. “We need to make a cat trap.”
“Absolutely not! No cat traps. You can chase it and you can bark at it, but I will not help you trap it. What would you do if you caught it anyway? You'd have nothing to complain about and your life would be boring,” I reasoned.
Red was silent, possibly pouting about the inequality of dogs not having prehensile toes to enable the making of cat traps? I can only wonder.
I sipped my coffee and enjoyed the morning with my friends.
Chapter Seventeen
Ken and Janey left for the day, so I was home alone with Red when Bas arrived for our afternoon picnic. Still balking at the idea of calling it a date, in my mind I was spending time with him so we could develop a friendship, not to check each other out as potential bed mates. I was aware of Bastian's intentions, and his hopes of changing my mind, but I felt I had made my position clear.
When I opened the door to his knock, three sharp raps, Red was beside me. He stepped forward to get his head scratched, and his ears ruffled, but didn't get all excited like he had when David came to visit. Perhaps an expression of preference? Or, possibly his way of presenting a united front, in light of my earlier explanation of what happened in Janey’s vehicle the prior day? Regardless, it was nice to feel him at my side.
“You look nice,” he complimented me, stepping closer to brush my hair off my cheek. He cupped my jaw in a warm palm, leaning in for a soft kiss hello, before respectfully retreating out of my personal space.
“Hi Bastian. Red and I have been in the backyard playing fetch, and enjoying the sun. It’s a beautiful day for a picnic; I think this was a great suggestion.” I stepped forward to give him a quick hug. “Ken left our lunch on the counter. Would you mind grabbing it while I get Red harnessed up?”
“No problem,” he answered, hand caressing my face as he stepped past me toward the kitchen. I could hear him unzip the insulated bag containing our food, probably checking for drinks, silverware, or something along those lines. “There's enough food in here to feed half a dozen people,” he told me.
“You're the size of a small country, Bas; maybe Ken thinks you have a large appetite. He probably added a portion of unseasoned chicken for Red, and enough for a snack if we stay at the park for longer than planned.” One of Ken's best qualities is he's pretty good at anticipating what might be needed.
Bas made a non-committal grunt and presumably hefted the bag off the counter. Red was strapped up and ready to go. I grabbed my backpack, which I had repacked with additional water for Red. Bas offered to carry the pack as I shrugged into one of the shoulder straps for the short walk to his rented SUV. “It’s not heavy. Most of the stuff is Red's, though I should look into getting saddlebags so he can carry his own weight.”
Red was quick to point out, “I am a noble service dog, not a pack mule.” Then his laughter filled my head, “Besides, I'm not the ass of the group anyway.”
The drive to the park took about fifteen minutes. Red kept up a lively chatter, which I relayed to Bastian in short unrelated clips as he drove. Most of it was observation about BBQ smells or people we passed. Occasionally, he'd crack us up with one of his droll remarks.
When another car with a dog pulled up alongside us at a stop light, its canine passenger started yapping frantically. High sharp barks suggested it was a smaller dog. “Napoleon complex, much?” Red snorted disdainfully, sticking his head back out the window to bark once in response.
I laughed, and wondered again how my dog picked up some of these references and used them so accurately. His ability to make the association between a little, aggressive dog and a Napoleon complex, suggested a thought process I found unbelievably multifaceted.
While Red was occupied with passing scenery, Bas and I talked casually about a few of the potential rental houses he had looked at. “I eventually want to buy something,” he told me, “but for now, a house and a six-month lease will do while I check out the area. David will halve expenses with me, so we can get something nice while I look around.”
“Hey! Bug in my ear,” Red complained behind me. I could practically hear his ears flopping as he shook his head. A doggy chin rested on my shoulder, “How about a little scratch? My ear tickles,” he whined.
“Poor baby,” I crooned in sympathy, reaching across my shoulder to help relieve the itching. “Better?” I asked a moment later. “You know, if you kept your head in the car, you wouldn't have this problem.”
I could feel the air pressure shift behind me as Red ignored my sage advice and stuck his head out the window again. Dogs!
“We're close,” Red, told me when he ducked his head into the car for a quick report, “I can smell the park and the water now.” He was dancing with excitement, looking forward to playing with kids as much as going for a walk and investigating new smells.
Only ten seconds later he reported, “It’s the wagon slide! Can we go there?”
The slide is a large twelve-foot tall Radio Flyer wagon located in the south-central area of the park. The handle acts as the slide down from a wagon which can support a few hundred people. There are always kids crowding the area for a chance to climb up the huge interactive sculpture.
“I don't see why not,” I answered, then relayed Red's request to Bastian.
Bas laughed, “I think it’s incredible you can talk with your dog. Sure, we'll stop on our way to the river.” He parked in one of the many hourly public lots, rather than cruise the street to find a curbside spot. Since I could take Bas' arm while we walked, I clipped the leash on Red so he could explore freely and compete in the endless game of one-upmanship male dogs played as they marked territory.
We entered the park near the wagon, and Red practically quivered with excitement, going so far as to tug on the leash, which was unusual for him. “Hey, calm down,” I ordered. “No pulling. You know better.”
“But there are kids! Hundreds of them,” he exaggerated. Geez, I hope he was exaggerating. “Oh, oh! There's another dog like me!”
“A German shepherd?” I asked.
“Yeah,” Bas answered, “over by the bench. It’s older than Red, with a young woman and a boy, maybe ten years old.”
“Most of the excitement is for the kids, but Red mentioned another shepherd within sight.” I explained. “When we are within talking distance of them, would you ask if Red can approach their dog to say hello?”
I asked Red, “Does the other dog look receptive to a greeting?” I retracted the leash and grasped the harness, as I didn't want him tripping other walkers in his single-minded focus on checking out his surroundings. He's smart, but he's still a dog. He also knew to conduct himself professionally when I was holding the handle.
“Yes, she's curious too. She's protective of her family, but she isn't aggressive, only alert.”
We must have been close enough, because Bas halted us and spoke to the other dog's owner.
“Mandy is very friendly and gets along great with other dogs,” the woman said. “We are getting ready to leave, but I'm sure she'd love to meet your shepherd. He’s such a handsome boy.”
“Hear that Teresa? Handsome boy, that’s me.”
Ignoring Red, I asked the owner, who identified herself as Emily, “How old is Mandy?”
“Six. Although, she's bee
n acting like an old lady the past few days. Benny and I decided to bring her to the park with us today so she could enjoy a little fresh air.”
I released the latch on the retractable leash so Red could have freedom to approach and greet the other dog. “She's sick,” Red told me with a soft, sympathetic whine.
“What's Red doing?” I asked Bas, hoping to get a clue of what he meant by “sick.”
“He's licking her face,” Bas answered. “Now he's cleaning her ear.”
“Can you greet Mandy and check her ears?” I whispered. “Red says she's sick. Maybe it’s an ear infection, or mites.”
Bas released my elbow and stepped forward to greet the female shepherd. “Has Mandy been shaking her head or rubbing her face against things?” he asked Emily. “Her ear canals are red and they feel hot.”
“I've noticed her shake her head a few times today, but I didn't think anything of it. I'll have to get her to the vet to have this checked out.” Emily's voice dropped to a sympathetic croon. “My poor girl, no wonder you've been so quiet lately.”
