Читать книгу Blame It On The Dog - Amy Frazier, Amy Frazier - Страница 6
ОглавлениеCHAPTER TWO
WITH THE MOUTHWATERING aroma of tamales floating up from the taquerías across the street, Selena sat on a stool on the roof of her building, checking the fabric samples laid out in the open. They were for an upcoming installation on the campus of San Francisco State University. The theme was tolerance, and Selena envisioned scrims stretched taut on enormous frames planted in the earth. On one side would be a picture and personal statement by an ordinary person, describing a small, everyday act of tolerance. On the other a visual pulled from the headlines showing the stark reality of intolerance. She wanted the contrasting images imposed on opposing sides of fabric to highlight what little lay between the two directions. She didn’t have the whole ideological thing worked out yet. Or even the execution. Right now she and Maxine, her assistant, were testing fabrics to find the one most likely to stand up to both the printing process and four weeks of San Francisco’s ever-changing weather.
Drew had taken Axel for an after-school walk—well, run—in the park. For the past few days, he’d been committed to burning off some of his pal’s energy. Neither Selena nor Drew wanted to have to bring back Jack Quinn and his boot-camp ideas. Trouble was the outings seemed to be stoking Axel’s energy levels, not diminishing them.
With a groan, Maxine stood up. “I have to move around. You want some coffee?”
“Please. I made a fresh pot before we came up.” Blowing on her hands, Selena watched Maxine head for the door to the stairway to the apartment below. Although it was probably fifty degrees, up here you caught the brisk winds off the Pacific. Coffee sounded good.
Maxine had been Selena’s art teacher in high school. And when Selena had come back to San Francisco, pregnant, her old home sold, her parents off saving the world, Maxine had helped her find her first job at a community center, teaching adult education art classes. They’d stayed in touch, and when Maxine retired, she’d been eager to keep her artistic juices flowing as Selena’s Jill-of-all-trades assistant. She was also the only grandparent figure Drew knew up close and personal.
“I put a little something in it,” Maxine said, returning several minutes later with two mugs.
“Thanks.” Selena would have to be careful. Maxine’s “little somethings” could knock your socks off. And Selena was really only a two-glasses-of-wine imbiber.
Maxine leaned against the low brick wall that edged the roof. “So are you going to tell me about the dog shrink?”
Selena had been avoiding that subject. “I don’t think he liked it when Drew called him that.”
“The sensitive type. Well, pardon me.”
“Sensitive is the last word I’d use to describe this guy. If I had to pick only one word, it would be controlling.”
“Oh? Whips and masks?”
“He was more subtle. But controlling all the same. Not to mention frosty, smug and a tad dogmatic. Pun intended. Talked a lot about discipline and submission.”
Maxine chuckled. “I’m assuming he was talking about Axel. And a little discipline wouldn’t hurt that four-legged brat.”
“You know how I feel about relationships—even cross-species relationships. They should be built on equality and mutual respect.”
“Then I bet you and this guy got on like a house afire.”
Selena grimaced at the unpleasant thought of Mr. I-Will-Teach-You-To-Be-Pack-Leader Quinn.
“Hey, Selena, give him a break. He’s a dog trainer, for pity’s sake. Someone’s got to be in charge of the training. It might as well be the human.”
“He didn’t like being called a dog trainer, either.”
“So what does he think he is?”
“I don’t know. Some kind of Zen master, for all I know. It doesn’t matter anyway. We gave him the boot.”
“And your backup plan would be?”
“I don’t have—”
Just then a crash and an ear-splitting shriek came from the sidewalk below, followed closely by a string of baritone expletives. Selena jumped up to peer over the wall and saw a river of fruit rolling in a cascade of oranges, yellows, greens and reds over the pavement and into the street.
Axel. She’d bet the farm.
She tore downstairs with Maxine on her heels. Outside, one of the stands that bracketed the produce market door lay overturned on the sidewalk. As Drew and several customers scrambled to right the stand and pick up the fruit, Sam raced around, waving his arms and chasing Axel, who held a grapefruit in his mouth and didn’t seem to understand why Sam didn’t want to play fetch.
On one of his run-bys, Selena grabbed Axel’s collar, then Drew’s sleeve. “Take him upstairs. Now. I’ll settle with Sam.” For once, Drew disappeared with his dog, without argument.
“Sam! Calm down!” Selena stepped in front of the red-faced man who seemed intent on following Axel right up into the apartment. “I’ll clean this up. You tend to your customers.”
“And what will they buy?” Sam growled. “My fruit is ruined!”
“Not all of it, I’m sure,” Maxine said, stepping up to take Sam’s arm, urging him into his shop. “Selena and I’ll check every piece. If it’s good we’ll restack it.”
“And if it’s damaged, I’ll pay for it,” Selena added, her heart sinking. Bruised fruit could not be counted as a project expense. Now breakfast and lunch for the next week looked like smoothies, smoothies and more smoothies. “I’m sorry, Sam. I promise it won’t happen again.”
Maxine almost had the greengrocer inside his shop when he whirled to face Selena. “That dog of yours is a menace. A menace! Do you see Charlie?” Sam waved his arm in the direction of the homeless man across the street, pushing a grocery cart and leading a very large dog as homeless as he. Charlie and Pip existed on the kindness of those who lived and worked in the neighborhood. “Charlie’s taught Pip more manners than most of the parents on this street have taught their kids. Why can’t you control your dog, as well?”
Selena didn’t have an answer to that.
A minivan with the city logo on the side pulled up, and a uniformed woman hopped out, a pole with capture-loop in hand.
“Oh, Sam!” Selena cried. “You didn’t call Animal Control!”
“What else could he do?” Isadore, the owner of the dance studio, asked as a small crowd of neighbors began to gather. “Your dog’s been a problem for all of us.”
His remark was met with nods all around.
“Where’s the dog?” the officer asked.
“My son took him upstairs,” Selena replied. “Everything’s under control.”
“Everything’s not under control,” Sam snapped, indicating the fruit on the ground. “As you can see.”
“Was the dog off-leash when this happened?” the officer asked.
“No,” Sam admitted. “But a leash does no good. Her kid can’t handle that overgrown mutt.”
“Is this true, ma’am?”
“Occasionally…yes.” What else could she say as her neighbors stared her down?
“Did he bite anyone?”
“No! He’s not a biter!” Selena felt insulted on Axel’s behalf.
“He’s a barker!” Isadore exclaimed, warming to the exchange. “Day and night, night and day. Try teaching a dance class when you can hear his yapping over the music.”
“And he never met a garbage can he couldn’t overturn,” someone at the back of the group groused. “Or a lamppost he didn’t christen.”
Selena felt outnumbered. “In our defense, we had a meeting with a dog behaviorist.” She couldn’t believe she was using the odious Jack Quinn to bolster her case. “He says he can turn the situation around. We signed up for three sessions.” Semi-truth if you considered that, until now, she hadn’t planned on seeing him again.
The control officer looked dubious. “Do you have a receipt?”
“Somewhere.” Maybe.
“You’ll need to bring it down to our offices. And, later, proof of course completion. Successful completion. There’s a fine if you don’t comply. Worst-case scenario if there are more complaints, we can impound the dog. So this is serious business. Understand?”
“I understand,” Selena said with sinking heart.
The officer leaned the capture pole against the building, then pulled out a notebook. “In the meantime, I’m writing you a ticket. For disturbing the peace.”
Selena knew this was the time to keep her mouth shut, but when she looked at the ticket, she couldn’t contain herself. “A hundred bucks!”
“And you need to clean up this man’s produce.”
“I’ll take care of it.” Although, as she picked up and inspected Chilean and New Zealand kiwis, pomegranates and mangoes, she wasn’t sure how. Other than asking Jack Quinn for help. More difficult than turning tail and admitting she might need that overbearing man was the thought of convincing Drew of the need.
Drew had liked Jack less than Selena had.
After restacking the saleable fruit and paying for two very large sacks of bruised items—Axel gave new meaning to the phrase “doggie bag”—Selena trudged up to her apartment.
“I’ll finish up on the roof,” Maxine said on the landing. “Call if you need reinforcements.”
Inside the apartment an uncharacteristic silence met her. It seemed both boy and dog—who were nowhere to be seen—knew they’d stepped in deep doo-doo this time for sure. “Drew!”
“In here.” She followed her son’s dejected voice into his room.
He was sprawled on his bed next to Axel. A telephone book lay on the floor, open to the yellow pages. “I tried to find someone else, but there’s no listing for dog shrink.”
“No matter what Mr. Quinn calls himself, I think we’d have to look under dog training.” Selena sat on the edge of the bed. “But we need to talk first.”
“You don’t really want to use this guy, do you?”
No, she didn’t, but her reasons went beyond Jack Quinn’s untested approach to Axel’s reformation. “Why don’t you want to use him?”
“I didn’t like the way he looked at you.”
So her son’s reasons weren’t too far from her own. Except she didn’t know how she felt about the intense way Quinn looked at her. “He knows I’m the one paying,” she offered in explanation. “I think he was trying to convince the comptroller Axel needs help.” She rubbed the dog’s belly. “But we already know that, don’t we?”
“I guess. That doesn’t mean we can’t get help somewhere else.”
“I’ve been thinking about that.” This wasn’t easy for her to admit. “First, Robert recommended this guy. And when I called Dr. Wong for a vet reference, she said he’d be her first choice, too. I wouldn’t know any of these other people in the phone book or their qualifications. Second, I paid Quinn up front. I know he said we could get a refund, but that might end up a hassle. Third, remember it took a week and a half to get him over here? We need help now. If we have to wait another week-and-a-half to get someone new, Sam’s not going to be happy. I bet I could call this Quinn character right now and tell him it’s an emergency, and he’d set up our second visit, pronto.”
“You think?”
“I won’t get off the phone till he does.”
Drew buried his face in Axel’s hairy hide. “I saw Animal Control from the window. Are they gonna take him?”
“Only if we don’t do something quick. I hate to admit it, but we already have the wheels in motion with this guy Quinn.”
“Okay.” Drew didn’t sound in the least convinced. “Call him.”
“Do you still have his card?”
Drew rummaged in his wastebasket and pulled out two ripped halves.
Selena took the pieces, then went into the kitchen to make the call.
He picked up on the first ring. “Jack Quinn here.” She could imagine his deep-set eyes. His stern look relayed over air and wire to skewer her right here in her home.
“H-hello,” she croaked. “This is Selena Milano. You were here a few days ago.”
“I remember. Axel, right?”
“Right. Well…it seems we can use your help after all.”
The long pause caught her off guard. “Mr. Quinn?”
“It’s Jack. I was looking through my schedule. Do you want to come to my center for the second session next Tuesday?”
“Um…we sort of need something yesterday.”
“Someone’s lodged a complaint.”
She hated that he was right. “Y-yes.”
“I’m sensing, even with the complaint, you’re not committed to this process.”
“Oh, I am! It would break Drew’s heart—and Axel’s—if anything should separate them.”
“All right. I can show you and your son everything Axel needs to be happy and well-adjusted. But are you willing to see Axel as a dog, not a furry child? Are you willing to follow my directions?”
She thought about this.
“Selena?” The quiet way he said her name sent shivers down her spine.
“I’m thinking.”
“Well, think about this, too. Can you bring yourself to use the words submission and discipline without thinking of them as negatives?”
How dare he challenge her? She nearly hung up the phone until she remembered the threat of Animal Control. For Drew and Axel—not for Mr. Take Charge on the other end of the line—she finally said, “Yes.” A qualified yes.
“I’m assuming you want Drew to be present. Tomorrow’s Saturday. Come to my center at eleven, and I’ll fit you in.” He gave her the address in an industrial part of town. “Leave Axel at home.”
The man was impossible. “Do you understand the emergency involves Axel? My neighbor isn’t threatening to send my son and me to the pound.”
“I understand. But we’re not going to get anywhere with Axel until you understand a few basics. I want you to observe my pack of well-adjusted dogs.”
His pack of dogs? What was this guy? Urban jungle boy? “And that’s going to help our problem?” she asked, unable to keep the sarcasm from her voice.
“Absolutely. Trust me.”
Oh, no. She might have agreed to follow his doggie-shrink routine for two more paidup sessions, but trust him? She’d learned the hard way to trust no one but herself.
SELENA HATED missing Saturday mornings at Margo’s. That was when she was most likely to run into friends. It seemed ages since she’d caught up with all the others, but the issue with Axel wouldn’t go away. Maybe, if things went well at the dog center, Drew and she could stop in at the café later for scones.
The address Quinn had given her appeared to be a vacant lot between two warehouses. A high, chain-link fence backed by green tarp fronted the property. Stretched on the fence to one side of a wide roll-gate was a professionally painted banner that read Canine Rescue and Rehabilitation with a Web site below. Selena stepped up to a call box hanging next to the gate and pressed the button.
A voice—definitely not Quinn’s deep rumble—said, “May I help you?”
“Selena and Drew Milano. We have an eleven o’clock appointment with Jack Quinn. I know we’re a bit early, but I couldn’t be sure how easy this place would be to find.”
The gate swung open even as the disembodied voice replied, “No problem.”
Selena and Drew stepped into an enclosed area beautifully designed like a Japanese garden. There was the sound of running water, but not a dog in sight. A young man stepped out of a small building to greet them. “Jack said if you got here early, I was to give you a tour. He’s working with a pretty intense case right now, but he’ll be free shortly. I’m Andy. One of the assistants.”
“How many people work here?” Selena was under the impression Jack worked alone with his pack of feral dogs. Out of his jungleboy cave. In a loincloth.
“Three full-timers, including Jack. Three more part-timers. And a half-dozen interns. When it comes to dog issues, we’re the go-to people.” Andy looked quite proud of the fact. “When you’re dealing with animals, it’s a twenty-four-seven, year-round operation. And when you see the size of our resident pack, you’ll see why we need a large crew.”
“So where are the dogs?” Drew asked.
“Through the next gate.” Andy indicated the chain-link fence on the far side of the garden. This fence was covered with tarp as well, so that what was on the other side remained a mystery.
“This is an unusual entrance for a dog center,” Selena said, looking around at the contained yet peaceful landscape.
“Jack designed it with a purpose,” Andy explained. “He believes dog owners must exhibit calm leadership. Even visitors to the center. The garden helps you relax and focus before you enter the dog compound.” He led them toward the far gate. “There’s one more holding area—for humans—but you can observe the pack from there.”
“You keep talking about a pack. How many dogs are there?”
Andy grinned as he slid the second gate open. “You’ll see.”
Selena heard Drew gasp as they stepped into another smaller fenced-in area overlooking a compound the size of a football field neatly subdivided. In the very large section beyond the one in which they stood, dozens of dogs milled quietly about. Some lounged in the shade of awnings hung from the fenced perimeter. Others splashed in water-filled kiddy pools. Still others chased a ball in what looked like a canine game of pickup soccer. Selena was struck by the placid atmosphere even though the dogs were left to their own devices.
“There’s no barking,” Drew said in a near whisper.
“No,” Andy replied. “These are well-adjusted dogs. But they weren’t always like this.”
As a group of dogs came up to the fence, curious to check out the visitors, Selena noted there wasn’t a hyper Axel amongst them. No whining, barking or jumping on the chain link. As well-behaved as they were, however, she saw they weren’t even city-pound-quality. Some were missing a leg, others an eye. Many of them bore ancient scars. “These guys aren’t ever going to be adopted, are they?” she asked.
“It’s doubtful,” Andy replied. “But they have a home for the rest of their lives. Here. Jack’s seen to that. He’s even worked out a deal with the homeless in the area. If, for any reason, they can’t take care of their dogs, they can bring them here. No questions asked. Even if it’s just temporarily until the person thinks they can take care of the dog again.”
Selena wasn’t sure she was ready for Quinn to turn out to be a nice guy.
“Jack’s working at the far end in one of the isolation pens,” Andy said. “I’ll give you the tour as we make our way to him.”
“Through there?” Selena squeaked, as Andy moved to open the gate to the freeroaming dog area. Suddenly wading through a mass of street dogs seemed a little daunting.
“Sure,” Andy replied. “You do know how to meet dogs for the first time?”
“There’s a right way?”
“Absolutely.” Andy looked especially at Drew, who seemed mesmerized by the pack. “No eye contact. No talking. No touching. At least until they’ve sniffed you thoroughly. Keep your head high, your shoulders back. Act like you own the world.”
“Mom’s good at that,” Drew quipped.
“You’ll do fine,” Andy replied with a smile. “When we step through the gate, walk slowly toward the end of the compound, keeping your eyes on the top of that flagpole. I’ll tell you when you can stop and interact.”
She remembered how she’d just scooped up Axel as a pup and brought him home. If dogs were really this complicated they should issue owners’ manuals. The thought gave her pause, but as Andy opened the gate, she took Drew’s hand—it was testament to the power of the pack that he let her—and stepped into Jack Quinn’s world.
She hadn’t anticipated how difficult it would be to walk and not acknowledge the dogs she felt sniffing about her. Her first instinct, once she realized how truly well-behaved they were, was to greet them, pet them, get to know their individual personalities. But, having closed the gate, Andy walked alongside her with a hand on her back propelling her gently, silently forward. It all felt so ritualized she couldn’t help wonder if she’d gotten herself involved in some canine cult.
“Okay,” Andy said quietly. “Stop and look around.”
What a letdown. Most of the dogs had wandered off to resume their previous activities. “What just happened?” she asked. “Or didn’t.”
“I’m assuming you have a dog who greets you differently.”
“And how!” Drew said.
“They’ve acknowledged you as calm, assertive leaders,” Andy explained. “Now they’re just hanging out.”
“But we don’t want a dog that ignores us,” Selena protested.
“Of course not.” Andy whistled, and several dogs, tails wagging, responded quickly—still not jumping. He petted each in turn and urged Drew and Selena to do the same. “But you need to learn when to give affection. Always when a dog is calm. Giving it when the dog is overly excited just reinforces the unacceptable behavior.”
Selena didn’t know if she was buying in to this behavioristic rigmarole, but Drew seemed enamored of the circling dogs.
Andy glanced at his watch. “Jack should be about finished. Let’s wind up the tour.” He led them to yet another gate.
For the first time Selena noticed beyond the fenced-in dog area an outer walkway that connected the earlier holding area for humans to an area in the back where several people were bathing animals, while others worked with owners and their leashed pets. There was plenty of room left over for what looked like an agility training course and a semipermanent trailer with an Office sign hung by the door.
“You mean to tell me,” she said, “we didn’t have to walk through that sea of dogs?”
“Jack’s orders.”
Was the guy trying to intimidate her?
“Why is he in there?” Drew asked, pointing to a row of large cages at the far end of the property, each housing a single dog. Jack was in one of the pens with what looked like a spitz mix that had been muzzled.
Andy led them to stand a distance from the cages, then stopped. He spoke in hushed tones. “He’s working with an abandoned dog. Very aggressive. The original rescuing shelter recommended he be put down as dangerous. But Jack rarely gives up on a dog. He thinks this one can be rehabilitated into our pack. The dog’s accepted Jack’s presence. Now Jack needs to show him who’s leader.”
Drew took a step forward, but Andy put a hand on his shoulder to stop him. “We can watch from here. But you’re going to have to be very still. Radiate calm energy. Dogs can definitely sense otherwise. And you have to understand the struggle going on inside the pen involves no physical hurt to the animal. Jack’s trying to put him on the ground. The ultimate submissive position for a dog.”
Quinn controlled the large dog with what looked like an insubstantial leash looped high on the dog’s neck behind the ears. Without speaking, Quinn slowly lowered the shortened leash to the ground, forcing the dog to lower its head. If Quinn was trying to get the dog to put its entire body on the ground in submission, however, the spitz was having none of it. After a few seconds with its head lowered, it would growl and thrash and manage to get to its feet. Quietly, Quinn would begin the procedure over again. At one point, he seemed to see an opportunity to bring the dog farther down. With the spitz’s head on the ground and its eyes momentarily averted, Quinn encircled its chest and attempted to roll the dog on its back, all in a slow and silent, yet forceful, way that reminded Selena of a martial arts exercise.
Despite herself, she was now transfixed by the battle of wills between man and dog, fascinated by Quinn’s patient strength.
Not Drew.
An appalled look on his face, he suddenly hurtled toward the cage. “Stop it!” he shouted, running forward and banging on the chain link. “You’re hurting him! Stop!”
Startled, Quinn released the dog, who charged the fence, teeth bared inside the muzzle. As Andy pulled Drew back, Selena noticed that in the struggle to regain his footing, the spitz had sliced Quinn’s nostril with one of its nails. Blood flowed from the trainer’s nose onto his shirt as he slipped out of the pen, a barely restrained fury etched on his features. The spitz set up an unholy howling that reverberated throughout the compound and set the rest of the dogs barking in response. Handlers and owners could be heard, snapping commands to regain control of their animals.
Without a word, Quinn led Selena and Drew to the nearby trailer office as Andy trotted off toward the dog pack area.
Inside Quinn grabbed a bunch of tissues, pressed them to his nose, then turned to Drew. “What you did was extremely dangerous.” Although he didn’t raise his voice, his words came out clipped and careful.
Selena could see by the blood soaking the tissue that her son’s interruption had proven dangerous enough. “Here, let me look at your nose,” she said, stepping forward, her nurturing instincts aroused.
“I’ll be fine,” Quinn replied and brushed her aside to focus on Drew. “Do you hear the rest of the dogs in the compound?” The barking had yet to stop. “Distress, fear, aggression can run through a pack like wildfire. You set off the spitz. He set off the rest. Even in a stable pack if an alarm is sounded, if members are unsure, they often lash out instinctively. Hurt before getting hurt. The dogs could hurt each other. Or their handlers. One false move, and I could have hurt the spitz.”
“You were hurting him!” Shaking, Drew was close to tears.
“No. It was a natural struggle for dominance. For that dog to live with my pack—for him to live—he can’t be the pack leader. Not in his aggressive state. There’s no question he’d eventually kill another member of the pack. He needs to submit to me as leader. Then there’s no jockeying with the dogs. Then he can co-exist with the others. That’s how it works in the dog world.”
“You’re making that up!” Drew spit back, unrepentant. “You’re nothing but a bully, but you’re not the boss of me! And I’m not letting you near my dog!” Before Selena could react, her son ran from the trailer.
When she attempted to follow, Quinn grasped her wrist. “Andy will take care of him.”
Through the window she could see the assistant already with Drew, leading him along the outer walkway to the waiting area at the front of the compound.
“Do you think I was bullying the dog?” he asked, genuine concern showing in his dark eyes, making his chiseled features appear, if not softer, then at least less granite like.
She shook off his hand that still encircled her wrist. “No, I don’t think you were bullying him.” Although at this particular moment, with her son so upset, it was a hard admission for her to make. “Andy explained it’s a very difficult case…but that you wouldn’t hurt him.”
“I’ll help you with Axel. From what I saw, he won’t require the technique you just observed. But you have to deal with Drew’s issues as well.”
“My son’s issues?”
“He didn’t just react. He overreacted. And the use of the word bully…maybe he feels picked on at school or in the neighborhood. Is that the case?”
“No!” At least she didn’t think so. Besides, it wasn’t any of this guy’s business.
“Learning to be a good pack leader to Axel might make Drew feel more self-assured.”
“Now you’re saying my son’s not sel-fassured?”
“I know the age. I’ve been there myself. One foot in boyhood, one in adulthood. Not sure where you belong. Not sure whether you can live up to the macho expectations of your peers and pop culture. I’m saying something set your son off just now. It might be wise to find out what.”
Selena felt her maternal hackles rising. “Look, buddy, you might think of yourself as Dog Yoda—though I’m not convinced I even want to put my dog under your control—but keep your pet psychobabble away from us humans. Nobody tells me how to raise my kid.” In a self-righteous huff, she stormed out of the trailer in search of her son.
Jack watched her go, not so much surprised at her outburst, but at his own reaction to it. He should be angry at the challenge to his expertise. Or, at the very least, turned off by her arrogant behavior. He wasn’t.
The smart course of action would be to write the Milanos off. He rubbed the back of his neck in frustration as he realized the opportunity to follow that very sensible path had passed. In his tumbling thoughts only one thing was clear. Now that he’d met her, it was impossible to disregard, dismiss or forget a woman like Selena.
