Beagle and Sneakers
LK Hunsaker
“Don’t you go in that water!” Running after the mutt, my new flowered-ivory Sketchers collecting half the sand on the beach, I had visions of dragging my new adoptee soaking wet and covered in green slimy algae into my freshly washed G6. A G6 is not made for an excitable lab mix. It’s especially not made for an excitable wet and slimy lab mix.
Can I sue the leash company for car cleaning since it didn’t stand up to my year-old dog for more than two minutes? No, I suppose not, and I’m not the suing type. I’m the take-whatever-comes, throw a huge fit and deal with it myself type.
“Lex! No!”
Why I’m bothering to yell, I don’t have a clue. Lex hardly knows his name yet, his new name. Maybe it’s not right to rename a dog you adopt, but is it right to continue calling him Smoochy because some idiot thought it was cute? Besides, the idiot also decided “Smoochy” was too much trouble and dumped him along the road. Good thing a neighbor found him and took him for adoption. I was enamored with him on first sight.
I can’t say I’m too completely enamored right now, with the mutt happily digging his nose into the water at the edge of the lake, his body nearly immersed, looking up at me like he won a dog-of-the-year award. Why did I think it would be fun to walk along the lake with my new mutt today instead of by myself as usual?
You’ve seen those movies where a woman walks, perfectly dressed and clean and shiny in pretty little sandals, her canine at her side walking oh-so-pretty-and-look-at-me-I’m-a-good-dog, right? That was the vision in my head. Lex and I bonded instantly. I saw us, instantly, having nice long quiet walks along the lake, both happy to have a companion for a change, a companion who didn’t annoy the begeebers out of us, who didn’t talk about what I wasn’t getting done or what I wasn’t getting right or how I should be doing everything or about his newest raise and praise while I’m struggling through my underappreciated role as a customer service specialist. Specialist, right. In other words, someone who can listen to degrading insults as though I have an IQ of ten and not go ballistic on customers I know full well only wish they had an IQ of ten.
Yes, well, something smoother and much more easy is what I had in mind. The perfect companion. A quiet walk. A pulled up seat in the back of my car with an old blanket on the floor where Lex would sit nicely and wait until I tell him to get out. Right.
“Lex, please come out of the water. Please come here.” Yes, I’ve gone to begging now from where I’ve lowered onto the hot sand, dumping loads of it out of my shoes and setting them aside. He only cocks his head and goes on splashing, likely frightening a toad or a fish or whatever he’s pawing at.
“Dogs are supposed to be on a leash in public.”
I snap my head to the voice behind me. No uniform. Only a man, a perfectly-dressed man with a perfect tan and sun-bleached hair. I’m SO not interested in anything he has to say, unless he shows me a badge. “Thank you for the information.” I turn back, now gloating in allowing my adoptee to play freely as he likes. I figure he deserves the play time since I just forced him to the vet’s to get his shots and he really was very good there.
“You’ll get a fine.”
I don’t bother looking back again. “Guess that’s my problem. Thanks again.”
“Does he bite? Because if he bites, that’s more than a fine.”
“Look.” Shooting up to my feet, I’ve decided I’ve had enough being walked on by now. “If I get a fine, what do you care? He was on a leash. See?” I hold up the chewed through red string with clasp at one end. “If I can get him back on it again, he’ll be on a leash. I may have to walk leaning to one side since there’s not much left of it but I’m doing what I can, so back off, Mr. Perfect. I don’t want anymore of guys like you.”
A grin lightens his face. “Well, that’s the first time in my life I’ve been called that. And it is my business, unfortunately. I own this part of the beach and a dog that bites someone on my property could be a real problem for me.”
“What?” My jaw had to drop about twenty feet before I picked it up again. “This is a public beach. I’m always here.”
“I know you are. I see you every day at this time. It’s not, though, and … Buster!”
I follow his eyes to a jogging beagle that has just picked up one of my new Sketchers and is heading toward the water with it.
“No! Bad dog! You come here!” Mr. Perfect takes off after him, not looking so perfect while throwing his own shoes off and rolling his pants up to follow the little dog into the water to fetch my shoe. Lex jumps in on the fun, playing tug-of-war with the shoe and his new friend. Good thing I got them on clearance. Otherwise, I might have to do something other than laugh so hard I can’t even stay on my feet.
I laugh harder seeing Mr. Perfect fall in rump first, although he does manage to finagle the shoe away from the dogs. He looks about as pathetic as I’ve ever seen a man look as he walks toward me, an apologetic grimace highlighting his soaking clothes stuck to him enough to show off a rather nice, though not perfect build.
“Dogs are supposed to be on a leash.” I can’t help it. It had to be said.
“I’m so sorry.” He stands before me studying the now worthless shoe. “I’ll pay for them. She’s horrible. Never listens. My ex says she’s as much a nuisance as her owner. Probably true. I’m sure I deserve it. Um, my house is just over there. It’s a mess but I have flip flops you can borrow.”
Flip flops. Somehow I never imagined this man wearing flip flops.
“And … an extra leash. To get your pup back to your car safe. He’s a beauty.”
“He’s horrible. Never listens.”
He grinned again. A very nice grin. “Keeps things exciting, doesn’t it?” He shrugged. “Let me go get the flip flops, unless you want to walk with me. I have chairs outside. We can let the dogs dry and … you like ice cream? I just bought a new box of Rocky Road.”
Rocky Road. I think I’m in love.
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