“You cannot take a dog with you.”
Two more girls to go before me.
You can do this. You can do this. If you don’t, I’ll kick your ass myself.
I was counting beats while trying to boost my courage. She was attempting to get in my face. I snapped my head toward her. “She’s my support animal and where I go, she goes. Including the stage. I’ve earned this position and I am taking it. Period. If you have a problem with that, take it up with the university president.”
While her face was pinched at first as I’d witnessed dozens of times, her features softened and in another moment of utter shock, she pushed me forward, squeezing my arm.
As the girl in front of me walked out on stage, I gripped Golden’s leash, wrapping the thick purple strap around my hand. “Be my good girl and if you help Mommy dog through this, you get a huge pup cup tomorrow.”
Golden Angel was many things including a ham. Her tail shot out proudly as if she was about to walk the Westminster Dog Show.
The show’s director offered a slight grin before he pointed for me to head through the slight opening.
My head was held high, my other hand on my hip to offer a sassy appearance and I willed myself to relax.
Fat chance.
Yet the moment I walked onto the runway, I was mesmerized by the applause. While the lights were bright, almost blinding, I was able to see clear surprise and appreciation that a dog had joined a model on the runway.
The oohs and aahs brought me another jolt of self-confidence. I took a few steps, pausing in the right location to provide a taste of attitude as well as allowing the important buyers a longer look at my offering.
The announcer hired for the event read from the card I’d written regarding details about the dress, the style, and my inspiration. I moved to the second spot and the person behind the microphone was interrupted.
“Ladies and gentlemen, I’ve just been told our last model is also the dress designer.”
The pressure was on, but with Golden by my side, we both pranced down the slick runway as if we owned the place. Dozens of pictures were being taken, flashbulbs going off even when they weren’t supposed to be. As soon as I got to the end of the runway, the nerves began to kick in.
Fuck. I was a little lightheaded as the anxiety moved to a higher level.
My grip of Golden’s leash was way too tight. As luck would have it, after being so proud of myself for keeping a practice smile, even flirting with the cameras, the moment I turned to head back, she growled.
Not just any growl, but one that told me she’d recognized someone in the audience.
While I doubted anyone could hear her subtle sound because of the lively music, the rumble was one I knew well. Strangely enough, the sound wasn’t the pitch used with intruders or with people she was anxious about me facing.
Her delighted, throaty growl was one of happiness. She also squealed, her entire backside and tail moving at the speed of a helicopter. The audience loved it, thinking I had her so well trained for a fashion show.
I didn’t need for her to offer another example. As soon as we took two more steps, she lunged forward. Thankfully, I’d anticipated her move and her nearly one-hundred-pound frame wasn’t able to rip me off the stage or even onto my face.
But it was enough of a jerk to know someone she cared about was sitting in the audience.
Other than me, there had only been one other person that she’d placed every bit of her trust and love into.
Kazimir.
But of course, it was impossible.
Lightheaded, my body swayed even though my mind was already processing the ugly reality.
The man I’d allowed into my heart was dead. Dead! He would never come save me. He would never be there to share in my joys.
Or more heartache.
He would never know…
Get your shit together. He. Is. Dead.
