Chasing Rainbows A Novel - By Long, Kathleen Page 0,67

door closed behind me as Poindexter bounded across the front yard then sat on the sidewalk, waiting for instruction.

Sonofa--

“Poindexter. Walk.” Number Thirty-Six’s voice rang so authoritatively I instantly understood why the dog listened to him and not to me.

I hurried to catch up, walking quietly behind them as Number Thirty-Six barked out commands for Poindexter to heel, sit, stay and walk. I had to admit I was impressed.

I’d spent countless hours with local pet trainers, dog food store clerks and veterinarians, when all the while the obedience answer had taken up residence two doors down, in the form of Number Thirty-Six.

My stomach did a little flipping action I could have lived without, but I quickened my pace to catch up to Number Thirty-Six. Poindexter walked calmly in front of us.

“I’m still nervous about the no-leash thing.”

He shot me a sideways glance and the corner of his mouth quirked. “Amateur.”

I narrowed my gaze on him. “I’m sorry, were there some professional dog training credentials you haven’t yet shared with me?”

His crooked grin grew wide. “It’s all in the voice. That’s all you need to remember.”

I blew out a laugh. “It might be all in your voice, but it certainly isn’t in mine.”

“Sure it is.” He stopped, tipping his chin toward Poindexter. “You go. Make him listen to you.”

I swallowed, my pulse quickening ridiculously. I couldn’t believe how nervous Number Thirty-Six’s suggestion made me. I mean, this was my dog we were talking about. Surely I could control him.

Couldn’t I?

“I forgot to bring his treats,” I said.

“Don’t need them.” Number Thirty-Six spoke so authoritatively I almost believed him.

But when a pair of squirrels crossed our path, Poindexter was gone in the blink of an eye. Tearing across one front yard and down the side of another, headed for the street just as a small car careened around the bend.

“Poindexter!” I screamed, the scene unfolding before my eyes as if I were powerless to stop the inevitable.

“Give him a command.” Number Thirty-Six spoke sharply, his own anxiety blatant in his usually unflappable tone.

“Stop! No! Poindexter!”

I broke into a run, measuring the trajectory of the car’s path against the direction of my dog’s sprint. The car swerved, narrowly missing the first of the squirrels. Poindexter cleared the curb, headed directly into the path of the car’s unforgiving bumper.

“Sit!” Number Thirty-Six’s voice boomed from beside me. “Now!”

Poindexter dropped like a shot as the sound of squealing tires filled the air. The car came to a standstill mere inches from my beloved dog’s now motionless form.

I dropped to my knees, tears stinging my eyes. “Holy shit.”

“He’s all right.” Number Thirty-Six placed his palm on my shoulder. I slapped it away as I stood up, the force of my anger taking me by surprise.

“No thanks to you.” I waved to the car. “I’m sorry.” Then pointed at my dog. “Get over here now.”

He sprinted to my side as I turned toward Number Thirty-Six, glaring at him, reaching for the leash.

I yanked it from his shoulder and snapped the clasp onto Poindexter’s collar. I leaned down, making full eye contact with the dog. To my surprise, he held my gaze, not shirking away to avoid the conflict sure to come.

I waggled my finger at his nose. “If you ever do that again, I will kill you myself. Do you understand?”

I straightened, pulled the leash short and stepped off toward home, wanting as much distance as possible between myself and Number Thirty-Six.

“He listened,” Number Thirty-Six called out after me. “You didn’t give him the right command. And next time, don’t run after him.”

I couldn’t believe my ears.

I spun on him. “Are you fucking kidding me?” I sounded like the wicked witch on speed, but didn’t care. “Don’t you know he’s all I have? All I have. What the hell were you thinking? Why can’t you just believe me that the dog doesn’t listen? Why can’t you just leave this alone?”

I turned back toward home but stopped and turned to deliver my parting shot. “Why can’t you just leave me alone?”

His features fell as if I’d slapped him, but I didn’t care.

I didn’t need Number Thirty-Six. Poindexter didn’t need Number Thirty-Six. We’d been just fine before the guy moved onto the street and into our lives. We’d be just fine again without him.

And by the time I reached home, pushed Poindexter inside and slammed the door shut behind us, I almost had myself convinced I was right.

o0o

Two hours later, I was still so angry at Number Thirty-Six and at myself