3
Charlie
I nearly cancelon Mason more than once. I wake up, and Athena is asleep on the pillow next to mine. She’s snoring softly, and her nose is twitching. She’s beautiful. Adorable. Perfect. And when she wakes up and realizes I’m awake too, she smothers me in sloppy puppy kisses that have me laughing before she hops off the bed, and I listen to the tap of her nails on the floor.
She’s a good dog. And she’s still a puppy. She’ll grow out of some of her behaviors, right?
Of course, in the time it takes me to get out of bed, put some pants on, and walk up the hall, she’s peed by the front door and dragged the bag of puppy food out of the cupboard, spreading kibble all over the kitchen floor. My feet stick unappealingly to the tile as I sweep it up, because despite mopping three times yesterday afternoon, the maple syrup residue remains and will probably still be here when I am dead and in the ground.
So maybe we do have a few things to work on.
I’m at City Park at a quarter to two. It’s the biggest park in town, with an amphitheater, skating rink, and a bunch of trails. I’ve tried to bring Athena down here before. I thought we could run on the trails, but she was so tangled in her leash in the first five minutes that we haven’t tried it since.
The park is busy today, even for a weekday. There’s a group of students standing under a tree, listening as their teacher talks to them about climate change. Senior citizens are doing tai chi near the amphitheater. Athena lunges for an old lady, barely missing her as my puppy leaps through the air, mouth wide open.
“No. No. Stop.” I pull on the leash, but in her enthusiasm to get to the tai-chiers, she’s unspooled the whole length, and there’s a ton of slack. It only pulls tight at the last second, and Athena tumbles to the ground, rolling and spinning until she’s got the cable in her mouth, pulling backwards as she growls. The woman she was trying to jump on a minute before shoots me an annoyed look, and I offer several apologies before Athena takes off after a squirrel and I have to run after her before she yanks my arm out of the socket.
After the squirrel, we simplyhaveto go see a woman walking two fluffy dogs with ribbons in their hair, then chase after a kid who is eating crackers in a stroller and clearly will drop a few if only Athena can get close enough to plead her case.
Suddenly, she freezes.
“What is it?” I say. “Hey? What do you see?” Her ears are pricked forward, and she doesn’t react when I speak. I tug on the leash, but she just squares her shoulders against the harness.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see a flash of green-and-gold plaid, like the scarf I gave Gavin for his birthday last year, and if he’s here to see this debacle, I don’t know what I’ll do, but when I turn, it’s a woman in a green and gold sweatshirt. She’s probably a student at LBU, but in any case, she’s definitely not Gavin.
But my momentary distraction means I’m unprepared when she takes off. Athena, not the woman. One second, she’s all coiled anticipation, and the next she’s tearing through the open space. The leash spools out, and I brace for the jarring yank as she pulls me into motion, but instead there’s just a moment of resistance before the cable in the retractable leash snaps and my dog is running free, unattached to anything, across the park.
“Wait! Wait, hey!”
She nearly takes out a woman on a bicycle, swerving at the last possible second.
“Athena!”
There’s no hope. She’s so fast. Her sled dog ancestors would be so proud to see her as she darts over the grass. I call out to people, hoping someone will step in front of her and slow her down, but she keeps on running while people glance back at me with judgy eyes.
The only thing in her way is a wooden fence that separates the park from the parking lot, and if she jumps it, we’re in so much trouble. It’s busy here today, and cars are coming and going, circling as they look for parking spots.
Finally, as she’s gathering herself to make the leap, a boulder moves, and it’s only my growing panic that means I need a second longer before I realize the boulder is actually a man. He’s in gray sweatpants and a navy, waffle-knit Henley, and he must be some kind of dog whisperer, because he holds his arms out as he kneels on the ground, and Athena, previously hell-bent on freedom, veers off course to throw herself into his arms, licking his face wildly.
“Hi. Yes. Hi, pretty girl,” he says, and his voice rumbles like faraway thunder. I wish someone with a voice like that would call me pretty. “Who’s a good girl?”
He reaches into his pocket and pulls out something that looks like a piece of cheese.
“She can’t have that,” I say at the exact same second Athena pounces on his fingers, chowing down on his offering.
The man arches an eyebrow at me. “Dogs love cheese.”
I wrinkle my nose. “She may think she does, but her digestive system says otherwise. The cheese farts are a lot to deal with in a two-bedroom apartment.”
He laughs, and like his voice, the sound of it lights me up inside in a way that nothing has since I walked in on Gavin and a tattooed man with too many piercings in our bed.
I know guys like this. I see them in videos at work all the time. They like their size and know how to use it to their advantage. He’d haul someone like me around like I weighed nothing while telling me to be a good boy.
Also, he’s smiling at me like he’s said something and waiting for an answer, so maybe now is not the time to be checking out his thighs as he squats in front of me, one hand on Athena’s harness as she continues to wriggle delightedly, pleased to introduce me to her new friend.
“I’m sorry,” I say, “What?”
“I said you must be Charlie.”
