“Well, she was awesome about it. I mean, it was easy, so you should have no problem keeping up with it. I can show you how next time.”
She shrugged again. “Whatever.”
“Okay, I’ll see you next week. Holler if you have any questions.” Beth Ann didn’t answer, so Cora picked up her bag and walked to the door. Chanel walked right next to her, as if the two of them were leaving together.
Cora leaned down to pet Chanel and quietly comfort her. “Ma puce.I’ll be back next week, okay?”
She opened the door, and the little dog darted out and headed for the elevator. When Cora caught up with her, Chanel put her head down and cowered, as if admitting defeat. It broke her heart to see the little dog’s spark go out.
“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” she whispered as she picked the dog up and walked her back to Beth Ann’s door. “Your life is going to change, I promise.”
EIGHTEEN
Cora and Maggie, each outfitted in sweats and equipped with full glasses of wine and nervous stomachs, sat in front of Cora’s computer on the kitchen table. Winnie and Vanessa had canceled on the alcohol-fueled Doggie Dictator live stream hate-watch, both opting out just a few hours before they were due to meet at Cora’s.
“It’s starting, it’s starting,” Cora said as she pointed to the screen. Fritz was curled up on top of her feet beneath the table.
“This is going to be a shitshow,” Maggie said. “I can’t believe you’re making me watch it. This could be you instead of him, you know.”
“If I were on a show, it wouldn’t be like this,” Cora said, staring at the screen.
Ershovich’s theme song came on, pulsing with jarring chords that were meant to evoke a feeling of danger and suspense, as if he were training lions and not man’s best friend.
“This music gives me PTSD,” Cora said.
The camera scanned the crowd, flashing by the smiling upturned faces that craned to see the man of the hour.
“Look at that lady’s hair—that looks like Winnie from the back,” Maggie said, pointing to the screen.
“Isn’t this the theater where Lincoln was shot?” Cora asked. “Maybe it is Winnie and she has a plan?”
“No, that was Ford’s Theater, and don’t even joke about it.”
Ershovich, in a tight black button-down shirt and slim-fitting black pants, strode out with his hands in the air, drinking in the crowd’s adulation.
“I hate that he’s sort of hot,” Maggie said, taking a slug of wine without removing her eyes from the screen.
Cora nodded. “It would be so much easier to take him down if he looked like a toad.”
The crowd quieted and Boris began speaking. “Ladies and gentlemen, welcome toThe Doggie Dictator!” The applause swelled until Boris quieted them again. “Tonight I have some miracle transformations to share with you. I’m going to show you a dog that was so vicious, so out of control, that her entire family was afraid of her.”
The audience collectively sucked in their breath.
Ershovich nodded his head in agreement. “This dog was a menace, and in truth should have been put down. But after I worked with her ... well, why don’t we all see what I was able to do?” He gestured to the jumbo screen behind him as it began playing the setup footage.
The story unfolded like every episode. Interviews with the attractive family intercut with clips of the dog looking scary and displaying the “dangerous” behavior. The dog, Sadie, was an amiable-looking mixed-breed brindle rescue dog that was perfectly behaved until she was approached while eating. The clip showed several interactions where the parents and teenage children walked toward her food bowl, which caused her to freeze, growl, then bare her teeth.
“Oh, this is textbook resource guarding,” Cora said. “Very predictable buildup, very clear signaling. No small kids in the house to trip up the training process. Give this family to me,I’llshow them how to deal with it.”
“He thinks this dog should be put to sleep? That’s insane.”
The clip cut to Boris explaining that Sadie thought that she was head of the household, and her reason for guarding was because she hadn’t submitted to her owners. Cora hissed at the screen.
“Your dog has zero respect for authority,” he said to Sadie’s people sternly. “It’s really no wonder that she acts like this. All shelter dogs are broken in some way, many irreparably.” He gestured to Sadie with a barely concealed look of disgust on his face. “And she looks like she has pit in her. Ofcourseshe’s aggressive.”
Maggie turned to look at Cora, braced for her predictable outburst.
Cora jumped out of her chair, startling Fritz. “What did he just say? Is he serious? Rescue dogs arebroken? And pits are inherently aggressive?”
