Pawliday Love

Chapter 7

CHAPTER SEVEN

BODYGUARD

S omething cool presses against my bicep. Can’t be snow. It’s December but I’m in LA. Am I bleeding? I pry open my eyes and glance at my arm.

Dog stares back at me, his nose nuzzled against my skin. Is he grinning? His small head plunks onto my bare chest, and his stubby legs bunch up the bed sheets until his warm body is flush against my torso.

It’s been this way for almost a month. Tingles travel down my spine. Is my bed that much more comfortable than the dog bed Gretchen bought?

“Morning, Dog.” I scratch behind his left ear, and the thump, thump, thump of his little heart shifts into overdrive. I retrieve Dog’s favorite toy–the tennis ball which I use whenever I need to get him moving–and throw it across the room. Dog lunges off the bed in pursuit.

“I suppose you need a walk.”

The dog jumps up and down in place.

“Guess that’s a yes.” I slide off the bed, take care of my own bathroom business, and pull on joggers and a hoodie. By the door, I tie my laces and attach the long lead to a harness I bought on my rounds yesterday. I snap the clasp shut and tap his head. “Tartan is way more manly than that sparkly shit Gretchen got you.”

I swear I get a “you know it” grin from him.

We take the normal route to the park this morning. No tunnels today. It’s still early, so the workday crowd isn’t around yet. First, Dog climbs onto the bench and looks over the park from his higher ground, which I’ve learned is his usual. He jumps off and circles the area by the eucalyptus tree.

“Ready for a run?” I ask. The commands in German work ninety percent of the time, but I swear he also understands English.

Dog leaps up and down, which I take as a yes.

My concern that Dog wouldn’t be able to keep up this time melts away as my feet pound the pavement. Like all other mornings, he zooms alongside me like he’s a tiny super-dog flying along the path. I smile. I’m definitely looking online to see if they have doggy Superman costumes for Halloween. We could go as twins.

After my mandatory three laps around the park, we head back to the office. The door to the reception room is open. Dog trots through and gives Gretchen his good morning bark.

“Morning, Boss,” she says as I enter the reception area. Gretchen grins at Dog. “And boss #2.”

Dog shoots across the room to his corner and laps water from his bowl.

The phone on Gretchen’s desk rings. “Hello. Yes. Hold on.” She pushes the speaker phone button. “You still there?”

“Yeah, hello. I saw your online post. Do you have my dog?”

My throat goes dry.

“Yes,” says Gretchen.

Dog leans against my leg.

“Great. I’ve been so worried about Rocko. I’m in Westwood. Are you nearby?”

Dog does not look like a Rocko, I think to myself.

I grip the edge of Gretchen’s desk and avoid looking at him.

Gretchen arranges a meeting with Dog’s owner at Blend, the closest coffee shop in the area, and ends the call. I suck in a breath. Why do my lungs hurt? The air conditioner has been off for a month.

“You okay?” Gretchen’s hand is on my forearm.

I clear my throat to dislodge a boulder that’s clogging it. “It’s good news. Dog’s place is with his owner.”

“Oh, sweetie. I’m sorry. I know you liked having the dog around.”

“You want me to pick you up a coffee?” I scratch my eye.

“No.” Gretchen’s sad eyes study me, and I turn away. She pats my arm. “You take as long as you need. Your morning is completely free.”

I nod and tug on Dog’s leash. “Time to get you back where you belong.”

Dog places a paw on my foot as if to say he belongs with me. I square my shoulders and set off for Blend’s patio to search for the man in a blue cap.

We don’t run.

Every step of the little paws by my side sends my chest into painful turbulence. No more morning cuddles. No more throwing the tennis ball. No more matching outfits. I take deep breaths in and out and slow my stride, but Blend is not that far away. Maybe the owner will need a minute to find parking?

I turn the corner and spot a guy in a blue hat at a table on the patio. Either Dog doesn’t see him or is not interested because Dog pays no attention. His eyes are on me. My spine stiffens as I falter. Any minute now, Dog will see his owner, and this will be over.

My throat swells. Gretchen was right. I tighten my grip on the leash. I’m going to miss this little guy. How is it possible to have grown attached to him in just a month? His owner will have to come over to the office to pick up the stuff Gretchen purchased. Maybe he’ll need dog-sitting services. Maybe I can have Dog during the day. Shared custody?

I stop in my tracks.

What I really want is to put Dog in my truck and drive in the opposite direction. My heart seizes. What is this clawing feeling below my ribs? I cough and pound my chest, but it only grows tighter. How did Dog get loose anyhow? I grind my teeth. Is this man an irresponsible owner? I should ask for his ID and run a background check on him before I hand Dog over.

“Hi.” The man rises from his seat. His wide grin sickens my stomach. “Rocko.” He surges forward. “I’ve missed . . . oh.” The glean in his eyes dims as it lands on Dog.

“Something wrong?”

The man sighs. “That’s not Rocko.”

My grip on the leash loosens as I look between the man and my dog.

My dog . . .

That's exactly what Dog has become. Maybe I haven't been fully ready to admit that until this very moment. I feel for the guy, but I’m also filled with so much relief.

"I'm sorry," I tell the stranger as I hide my smile.

"So am I," the man says with a sad nod.

"I hope you find him." I shake his hand.

Waving to the retreating figure, I gently tug on Dog's leash and enter Blend, the coffee shop I haven’t been to since Dog arrived. I take a deep breath. Even the aroma of bitter espresso smells sweet like sugar.

“Welcome back.” The barista behind the bar grins. “The usual?”

“Please.”

“Is that everything?”

It’s such a beautiful day that I think I should treat myself. Yep. I deserve this.

“One cupcake.” I peruse the selection. “Caramel.” Something else catches my eye. “Are those dog biscuits?”

The barista opens the container. “They are. It’s a new product we’re trying out.”

“Two of those as well.”

I pay for my order and head to the end of the counter.

“One black coffee, a caramel cupcake, and two dog biscuits.” The barista slides my order across the counter. “Pablo!” The barista bends down and tickles the dog at the base of his tail. The dog spins in circles like he’s found his favorite person.

My shoulders tense, my newfound relief vanishing. “He recognizes you.”

“Smart dog.”

“Yes, he is.” I rub behind Pablo’s ear. He places two paws on my thigh and gives me an “i-told-you-so” grin followed by a lick on my cheek. “How do you know him?”

“He used to be Felix’s.”

Pablo’s ears go stick-straight. His tail pops up and starts wagging really fast. He stands at alert, looking all around the coffee shop as if searching for someone.

The barista frowns. “I was wondering what happened to Pablo when I heard about Felix passing away a few weeks back. Sudden heart attack.”

The boulder in my throat returns. I crouch down and pat the scruffy fur on the dog’s head.

“They used to come to work together at the storefront you’re in now. Even after Felix retired last year, they would come to the park down the road and here for coffee afterward. The dog biscuits were Felix’s idea.”

Pablo yelps and gives a whimpering howl.

My lungs constrict.

“Glad he found a new home with you, Sven.”

I open my mouth to correct the barista, but another customer enters the coffee shop, and he directs his attention to them.

Pablo deflates to the ground. A pitiful howl breaks out of his tiny body. He stares into my eyes and waits. If he weren’t a dog, I’d say he was crying.

“Come here.” I wrap my arms around the shivering body and stand. He curls into me and puts his head on my shoulder. I bring our foreheads together and his wet nose touches mine. “Let's find us a seat.”

At the nearest empty table, I slump into the chair. Pablo slides onto my lap. I pet his fur until his heart rate slows under my palm. His tail gives a hesitant wag. He sits up and looks at me, waiting. I offer him one of the biscuits.

Pablo snaps it up, crunching away. I take a bite of my cupcake. He jumps off my lap, circles around my feet, and puts his head on my shoes. We sit and watch the people buzz in and out, unaware that today is not like any other day. The warmth from the coffee spreads through my body.

Today, Pablo is mine. And I am his.

I take a deep, leisurely breath in and peer down at my companion. “What do you say, Pablo? Shall we go home?”

We exit Blend and step into a bright, sunny winter morning.

Pablo leads the way, and I happily follow.