Carol wasn’t sure what she was getting into. It wasn’t something she’d ever done or ever thought she’d do.
“I’ve always had cats,” she explained to the Golden Retriever sitting patiently at her feet. He smiled up at her and his tail swept back and forth like a busy woman’s feather duster.
“You do have a nice smile.” The tail swept faster.
“And you’re very well behaved.” The smile grew and he lifted one paw. When he did, his head tilted to one side like he was asking, “Wanna shake?”
Carol took his paw and the dog shuddered in delight.
“How are you two getting along?” Dixie Rose asked as she returned from fetching a collar, leash and vest for the patient Harry.
Carol started a bit and immediately felt guilty and stupid. “Fine. Just fine.”
“Uh huh. Let’s get Harry dressed and go for a walk.”
At the word walk, Harry shuddered again. Dixie Rose laughed and said, “Release.” Harry jumped to his feet and leaped in unbridled joy.
Carol was jealous. She had trouble with feeling fine, or okay. Joy was a long way off. Even her counselors had told her it would take time, a long time. Setting her chin, she squared her shoulders. “I’m ready.”
Dixie Rose looked at her. “Carol, relax. We’re going for a walk. With Harry. We’ll be back in fifteen minutes or so.”
“Right,” Carol said. Starting with her toes, she went through the short program of her release-the-tension exercise. While she unlocked her muscles, she watched Dixie interact with the dog. Harry. His tail never stopped, his grin was as cute and goofy as a newborn kitten and he really liked Dixie and what she was doing.
“The collar goes on first, then the leash.” As she clipped the leash to the dog’s—Harry’s—collar, he sat down and put on what Carol thought of as his serious face. “Then the vest.” Dixie leaned over and snapped the clip under Harry’s belly. Dixie stood up and held the leash out to Carol.
“You want me to walk him?” Loosened muscles tightened.
“Sure. The thing is, Carol, he’s just a dog. He’s a very well trained dog with certification as a therapy and companion dog. But he’s just a dog.”
Carol rubbed her hands together then wiped them on her pants. Harry tilted his head to the left and whined.
“It’s okay, Harry,” Carol said. The dog wagged his tail.
“See? He’s communicating with you already. And you’re communicating with him.”
Carol reached for the leash and was glad not see her hand tremble. She took the leash and stepped toward the door. Harry pranced next to her keeping the proper distance between himself and his handler. Dixie opened the door and broke into a smile.
“Mason! What the heck are you doing here?”
* * *
Mason, brother to Dixie Rose and future sexual slave to the Venus holding a leash, stared. He gulped and tried to make eye contact with his sister. Failed. He gave up and stared some more.
“Yoo hoo!” A hand waved in front of his face.
“Huh?”
Dixie Rose grinned. “I asked what you are doing here but I think I know. You’re—”
“Don’t.” His senses finally returned when he realized it was his little, pain in the butt, expose every secret you ever had, sister.
“You don’t even know what I was going to say.”
“If you said anything, I would soon wish you to perdition.”
“You don’t mean that.”
He lifted an eyebrow. “Remember when…” He glanced at the Venus who seemed to be focused on the dog. “That’s a dog.”
“Yes, yes it is. That, Mason,” Dixie said as she pointed to Harry, “is a dog. You’re really coming along, aren’t you?”
He lifted the other eyebrow. “See? You say things like that! You have no filter on your mouth. And the sarcasm—”
“Uh, excuse me?”
Mason turned his head. Venus speaks.
“Sorry, Carol. This is my older brother, Mason Wallace. Mase, this is Carol Lee.”
“Not that much older,” he mumbled.
“I’m surprised you don’t have gray hair yet.”
“Keep jabbing,” Mason said keeping his eyes on Venus. One good thing was this Venus had two arms instead of none. “I’ll wrestle you to the ground and shove your face into the dirt so far only worms will hear you.”
Dixie Rose laughed.
Venus rubbed her hands together then wiped them on her pants. The dog watched her closely. He took a step closer to her and sat down. And leaned against her leg. He whined.
“Oh, hey,” Mason said. He took a step forward to pull the big lug away from her but she took a step back. The dog stood up, walked back to her, came up beside her again and sat down.
“You are such a good dog,” the beauty said. She rubbed the dog’s ear as he panted with his tongue hanging out.
“You like dogs.” He made it a statement.
“Her name is Carol,” Dixie whispered out loud.
“I suppose I do.” Carol gazed at the dog and he gazed back.
Mason rubbed a hand across the back of his neck. He flinched. It was still sore and likely to be for at least two weeks according to the doctor he’d seen at the hospital.
“What’s wrong?” Dixie asked. She took his hand and pulled it away from his neck.
“Ow! Damn it, Dix, that hurts!”
She gentled her touch. “I’m sorry. Why didn’t you tell me you were hurt?”
“I just got here.”
In a soft whisper she said, “And stared at Carol like a starving man eyes a smorgasbord.”
He scoffed but didn’t openly deny it.
“Dixie, I can see you’re busy. Why don’t we postpone this?”
Dixie gave her brother a death stare before smiling and turning back to Carol. “Nope. Mason can entertain himself while you spend time with Harry.”
“Who’s Harry?” Alarmed, Mason cringed at the shrillness of his voice.
Rolling her eyes, his sister pointed to the dog. “That’s Harry. He’s a two-year-old Golden Retriever and he’s—”
“Yeah, okay. Blah, blah, blah.”
Dixie moved her brother to one side of the door. “I’m sorry, Carol. Mason doesn’t like dogs. The family thinks it’s a holdover from when one of them licked his ice cream cone when he was seven.”
“That is so not true.”
Dixie gave him a false smile. She returned her attention to Carol.
“Come on. Let’s go for a walk.” She glanced at her stymied brother. “Just the three of us and, yes, I’m counting the dog.”
Mason watched as they all walked away from him. Venus—Carol—was very tall and stiff looking. Her shoulders were back, chest out, head held high like she was marching in a military parade.
“Hmm.” She does have the look of a Drill Sergeant or Marine something. “Hey! Wait for me.” He trotted after them as Carol glanced back at him and Dixie ignored him. Even the dog ignored him. He spoke to Carol as he caught up. “You don’t mind me tagging along, do you? See, my sister has a mean streak. She saves all her niceness for dogs. As a matter of fact, Dixie would rather spend time with a pack of dogs instead of going to a party.”
Carol flicked him a quick glance. “That’s a good recommendation. Thank you.”
Coming to a stop, he stared. Then he had to catch up again. “Recommendation for what?”
“She has been training this dog. My dog. Harry.”
“She teach him to do tricks? She’s good at that. We had a mutt when we were kids that was dumber than a stump.”
“He was not!” Dixie declared.
Mason leaned in to Carol. “He really was but she managed to teach him to play dead. Although I was sure it was his natural posture.” He laughed. It trailed off when he got no response.
“Dumble was a sweetheart,” Dixie said.
“Dumber was lazy.”
“Yes, he was. But he was a sweetheart.”
“How is a lazy dog a sweetheart?” Carol asked.
Both Mason and Dixie looked over at her. She blushed and rubbed her hands together. Harry leaned against her almost causing her to trip over him. Before Mason could say anything—which was a good thing because all he could come up with was negativity and sarcasm—Dixie said, “He was quiet and affectionate, willing to climb into your lap whenever you needed company. He didn’t grab food out of your hands or beg at the table either.” She laughed. “He did sleep a lot though.”
“Oh, I see. Was he trained, too?” She gestured to Harry walking sedately beside her.
“As a—” Dixie looked at Mason. “No, Dumble was a pet.”
“Trained as a what?” Mason had to ask.
“None of your business,” was accompanied by a glare worthy of a blowtorch. Dixie picked up the tempo and before long Mason was meandering along in their wake and wondering what was going on with his Venus and his sister.
And the damn dog.