Breathless and frantic, I dashed off the walkway as it came to an end and hurried onto the Pier. With the glorious weather and it being a Saturday, the boardwalk was dense with visitors of all ethnic backgrounds and ages. My heart was palpitating and I was sweating like a pig. I bent over for a few seconds, hugging my thighs and catching my breath. Then straightening, I spun around like the carousel, my eyes darting in every direction. He was nowhere in sight. Dammit. The crazy mutt could be anywhere! At a fast food stand! Waiting in line for a ride! Maybe on a ride! Or he’d bolted down the adjacent Venice Boardwalk. And even worse, jumped off the wharf and gone for a swim in the ocean which was about fifty-feet below and only separated by a narrow railing. I knew a little bit about Labs, and they loved to swim. But me diving into the chilly ocean to retrieve him was not a likelihood. Maybe I should just let him swim out to sea, and he’d be picked up by some nice fisherman.
Who was I kidding? I needed to find this frigging dog and get him back home. Jen would be devastated if I told her he ran away. The birthday from hell. And she might hate me forever. Taking one more deep breath, I persevered and raced down the Pier, bumping into pedestrians and dodging kids in strollers, my eyes shifting left and right in hopes of finding him.
Heaving, I was breathless, my heart sinking faster than the Titanic. Where the hell could he be? A debilitating mixture of hopelessness and despair poured through my veins. What was I thinking to have adopted a young, crazy dog? You can’t teach an old dog new tricks. You can’t teach a dead one any. If we’d adopted an older, on-his-way-to-dog-heaven one, I might have been spared this insanity. After his demise and a brief mourning period, my life and Jen’s would be back to what it was. Normal.
Stopping for a moment to collect myself, I blinked once. Twice. Then spotted him! Oh Jesus, how was I going to handle this?
Steadying my breathing, I jogged up to the brawny man in uniform. He was holding Scout tight on his leash. “Hi, officer, um, uh, that’s my dog.”
Scout didn’t acknowledge me as the middle-aged cop shot me a stern look. “You’re lucky the City of Santa Monica allows dogs on the Pier, but they have to be on a leash. There’s a two hundred dollar fine for having a dog off leash. Can you read the sign?” He pointed to it.
Yeah, I can read, asshat! “I’m really sorry, officer,” I mumbled in my most humble voice. “As you can I see, I had him on his leash, but he bolted from me. He’s a rescue; my wife and I just adopted him this morning. This is his first walk.”
The cop’s face lightened up. “Me and the missus have adopted many strays over the years.” He handed me the leash, and I grabbed it as he continued. “I’m not going to write you up this time, but here’s a word from the wise. Get him into training. The next time this happens you may not be so lucky and he’ll end up back at the pound. And the fine will be double.”
I profusely thanked the officer and told him I’d make a contribution to both the Policeman’s Fund and our local pound.
To my great relief, Scout walked back calmly with me to my car, but I gripped his leash tightly, not taking any chances. Almost there, he stopped for a moment, squatting down. I watched him as he took the biggest dump ever. This was nothing like the little turds my mother’s toy poodles left behind. It was giant and steaming. A flaming torpedo. Reluctantly, I picked up the stinky, hot deposit with the plastic bag I’d brought along and tossed it into the nearest trash receptacle. My eyes caught sight of a nearby sign. Please pick up after your dog. Violators subject to a five hundred dollar fine.
You’re fucking welcome. I sneered.
We arrived at my car. Waiting for me was another stinkin’ surprise.
A fricking ticket. Plastered under my windshield wiper. God knows how much it was going to cost for going over the one-hour only parking limit. And just by a lousy five minutes.
I cursed.
Life with this beast wasn’t going to be easy.
Chapter 9
Blake
Jen was seated cross-legged on the couch when I returned with Scout, her MacBook on her lap. I managed to take off Scout’s leash and hang it around the door handle before he went barreling into the living room to greet her.
A megawatt smile bloomed on my tiger’s face as he sat down on the floor beside her. She affectionately stroked his head as he adoringly looked up at her with those deceptive big brown puppy eyes.
“Were you a good boy for Daddy?”
I felt every aching muscle in my body bunch up as I lumbered over to the bar to pour myself a shot of Scotch. I rarely drank so early in the day. Make that never. I knocked back the drink in a single gulp and poured myself another. This damn dog was driving me to drink! By this evening, I could be a raging alcoholic.
With my shot glass in hand, I joined Jen, plopping down onto one of the oversized chairs flanking the couch. Taking another chug of my drink, I stretched my long, crampy legs on the coffee table. Though I regularly did the challenging Santa Monica steps and worked out at my gym, this out of control dog had worn me out.
Wearing her glasses, Jen finally turned her attention to me. Your adoring husband, remember? “So, how did he do on his first walk?”
He was a total nightmare! The dog from hell! The holy terror ran away and I had to chase after him like a madman on the Pier. He cost me a parking ticket and almost gave me a heart attack.
I took another long swig of my drink. The alcohol burned my throat and was doing little to relax me. I felt my jaw clench as I lied through my teeth. “He was awesome! He did a nice pee and a big poop.”
Jen’s smile widened. She bent down and kissed Scout’s head, showering him with praise and love. “What a good boy, Scout! I’m so proud of you!”
I gulped down more of my Scotch. If you only knew! Holding my tongue back, I switched the subject. “So what have you been up to?”
“I put all of Scout’s things away. All his food is in the pantry and his toys are in a basket.” She pointed to the large wicker basket in the corner. Close by was the large dog pillow we’d purchased.
“Where’s his bed?”
“In our room. Next to ours. Being separated from his first family, he shouldn’t sleep alone his first night here.”
Silently, I bristled. That was way too close for comfort. He sure as hell better not come into our bed. And mind his own business when we fucked each other senseless. Tonight was going to be his first test. And possibly the beginning of two new commands: OFF! And GET LOST! I made a mental note to download the Google Translator app and find out how to say these words in a variety of languages in case the stupid dog didn’t understand English. In the worst-case scenario, there was always a loud and clear NO! Every living thing understood that word, right?
Jen cut my mental ramblings short. “And Blake, while you were gone, I did a lot of research on Black Labs. They’re super-loving and loyal, make great family pets, and are very intelligent. Oh, and they’re also very rambunctious and need a lot of exercise.”
Yeah, this one needs to run a marathon. A one-way trip to Hell! “Did any of the articles you read talk about obedience?”
Jen nodded. “Yes. They’re easy to train because they’re so smart.”
I had a feeling this one was as stupid as stupid could be. It must be those unknown “mixed” genes that were bringing his IQ down by intervals. With his gangly body, long skinny tail, and narrow muzzle, he was far from being a pure pedigree Lab.