45ebf3c490593574dd454e5dfd5a5758

But then Marcie released the big dog from his leash, and he was off like a bat out of hell, doing exactly what he’d told them he would: sniffing butts wherever he could!

“Isn’t he great?” said Marcie as she watched her dog’s progress. “Now it’s your turn, Brutus and Harriet. Go on and have some fun!”

Harriet and Brutus slunk off, and Harriet hissed,“If one dog so much as sniffs in my direction I’m scratching his eyes out, I’m warning you.”

“No dog is going to sniff at you, sweet pea,” said Brutus.

“They better not.”

“Look, it’s a process. And the sooner we get through it the sooner we come out the other side.”

They took up position next to a patch of fenced-in sand, and settled in for the duration.

“I miss my humans,” said Harriet after a pause.

“You have new humans, snuggle pooh.”

“Yeah, but I miss my old ones. I liked the Pooles a lot better than the Trappers.”

“It’s not as if they’re miles away. You can go and visit the Pooles any time you want.”

“I know, but it’s not the same and you know it.”

Brutus was silent for a moment, then said,“We just have to get through this difficult part. Soon we’ll get used to having new humans and we’ll be so much happier.”

“I miss Max and Dooley, too.”

“How can you miss them? You see them all the time!”

“I know, but we used to hang out together, now we’re like casual acquaintances.”

“We have Rufus now.”

They eyed the big dog who was gamboling around like a puppy, sniffing butts to his heart’s content, and Harriet sighed. “It’s not exactly the same, though, is it?”

Brutus gave her a gentle nudge.“Just hang in there. You’ll like it, you’ll see.”

“Remind me again why we’re doing this?”

“Because we’re tired of all the excitement,” said Brutus. “The murder and the mayhem the Pooles are always getting involved with. At least now we have a peaceful life. Nothing but peace and quiet.”

Just then, a smallish dog with a squashed-up face came tripping up, and before Brutus could stop it, it had taken a good sniff at his butt.

“Hey!” Harriet cried. “No sniffing my boyfriend’s butt, all right!”

“Hold your horses, sister,” said the doggie indignantly. “This is the dog park. Nothing is off-limits here.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Didn’t they tell you? Dog park is where dogs go native.”

“Native?”

“Back to nature, baby! Now let me get a good whiff of your perky little—okay, I guess that ain’t happening,” the doggie added when Harriet unsheathed a very sharp claw.

She eyed her mate narrowly.“We’re in Sodom and Gomorrah, Brutus. Sodom and Gomorrah for dogs!”

8

Since Odelia wasn’t really in the mood for golf, we returned to the golf club bar instead, where she took a table outside and ordered a coffee and started writing down bits and bobs of the chat she’d just had with Carl Strauss in the hopes of turning it into a short piece about the guy at a later date.

Dooley and I took up position underneath her chair and when a waitress provided us with a bowl of milk we were bowled over with the kindness she’d shown us, coming so shortly upon the heels of the attack on our lives by Mr. Strauss, clearly not a cat person.

“I don’t think I like Carl Strauss, Max,” said Dooley.

“No, I don’t like him very much either,” I had to admit.

“He hates cats, and he tried to kill me.”

“Yeah, not exactly the kind of behavior that makes a positive impression.”

“So he’s not only a sex maniac but also a cat killer,” Dooley concluded. “In other words, not a nice person.”

I smiled.“Dooley, you really have a way with words.”

But before we could thresh the matter out a little more, suddenly two unexpected visitors drew up chairs and joined us at the table. Reading from left to right, they were Gran and Scarlett!

“And? How did it go with the golf pro?” asked Vesta, eyeing her granddaughter closely, presumably looking for bite marks on her neck, or hickeys as I think they’re called in sex maniac jargon.

“His wife dropped by the office this morning,” Odelia explained, putting down her tools of the trade for a moment, “to ask if I could talk to her husband and make him grant her the divorce she wants.”

“Carl Strauss is getting divorced?” asked Scarlett. “Again?”

“Yeah, but he doesn’t want to. He claims Erica will change her mind again and realize she still loves him. Though if you ask me the guy is delusional.”

“He tried to kill me,” said Dooley.

“Kill you!” Gran cried.

“Yeah, he thought Dooley was an intruder and tried to whack him over the head with a golf club,” Odelia confirmed.

“He called me fat and orange,” I said sadly. “Basically an orange fatty.”

“Oh, dear,” said Gran, and patted me on the head for my trouble, and picked Dooley up and placed him on her lap.

I guess she figured I was too heavy to do that. Or maybe I was just seeing things. It’s not every day that I’m called orange and fat. But Dooley did just survive an attempt on his life, which is a lot worse than being called an opprobrious name and the wrong color.