Blame It On The Dog

“Axel, no!” Selena jumped up and joined the chase.

She’d described the dog as “cute.” It wouldn’t have been the description Jack would have used for the mixed breed. He loved dogs, but he didn’t idealize them. This one in particular. The shaggy head of a terrier sat on the tan, barrel-chested body of a chow, punctuated by a chow’s high, plumy tail. A herder’s very long, strong legs completed the incongruous picture. Make that motion picture.

In a tangle of paws and feet, the boy wrestled the dog to the floor. It was obvious Axel loved every minute of the roughhousing. Finally, Selena snagged his collar. When Drew rolled out from under him and headed for the sofa, Axel followed, dragging Selena. The boy, the woman and the dog collapsed on the sofa with the dog stretched across both owners’ laps, his tongue lolling from a mouth wide open in a silent canine laugh. It was clear who was in charge here. The queen had been dethroned.

“I can help you,” Jack said simply.

Selena laughed, and the sound was music. “We don’t care how he behaves inside! We just need a few training techniques so he can fly under the radar and not get in trouble when we take him out.”

Looking at the absolute disarray in the apartment, so different from his own spare living quarters, he begged to differ. Animals and humans alike could benefit from order, routine, stability. Memory flickered. Of his own childhood with a military stepfather. As a boy he hated the constant moving, the impermanence. Ironically, what kept him from feeling lost and adrift in his movable world was the discipline his stepfather brought to the household. It was obvious how Axel handled the turmoil. Jack wondered how Drew handled it.

Selena cleared her throat.

“Ah…about Axel…” he said, unaccustomed to being caught off guard. “You have to exercise discipline before you exercise affection. I can teach you how.”

“You mean we have to be cruel to be kind?” Selena’s brief smile faded as she stroked Axel’s floppy ear. “No, thanks.”

“I’m not talking about cruelty. In any form.” He wondered why the words discipline and submission had pushed this beautiful woman’s buttons. “I’m talking about the natural order of things. In the animal world. Don’t project human issues on your pet.”

Too late he realized he’d been focusing on Selena to the exclusion of Drew, and that Drew had noticed.

Glaring at Jack, the boy pushed Axel off his lap and moved closer to Selena. Like a feisty little junkyard mutt protecting his territory. “I don’t know, Mom,” he said. “Maybe we don’t need a dog shrink.”

Jack ignored the insulting tone of voice. There was no mention or evidence of a Mr. Milano. By this kid’s behavior alone, Jack would bet Drew had been the man of the house for some time. The dog needed help, sure, but not enough for Jack to step into the middle of possibly touchy family dynamics. The stepson of a man who’d never let go of the step distinction, Jack knew what it was like to guard from intruders the little bit you thought you owned.

He pulled a business card out of his pocket and handed it deliberately to Drew. “It’s your dog, your decision,” he said before moving toward the door. He could see Axel in the kitchen, rummaging through an overturned trash bin. “Call me if you change your mind. The fee that went on your charge card was for my standard three sessions. After today’s consultation, if you decide to go elsewhere, I’ll refund the price of two.”

As he descended the stairs from the apartment, he thought of the woman above. In the five years since his wife Anneka’s death, he’d worked with many women in an effort to rehabilitate their usually spoiled dogs. In the past year he’d begun to date. In all that time he hadn’t met one woman who aroused a personal curiosity, no one for whom he regretted saying a final farewell. Until today.

Warmed by, but distrusting, this instant attraction to Selena Milano, he pushed through the building door to cool, moist air, into the neighborhood changing from bustling daytime business to early evening social. Normally a solitary man, he found the sounds of music, the smell of food, the shouts from neighbor to neighbor jarring. If Selena interested him, why not ask her out? He knew why. Her son. Although Jack might be drawn to the woman, he’d be a fool to pursue even the most casual relationship in the face of the boy’s obvious antagonism.

CHAPTER TWO

WITH THE MOUTHWATERING aroma of tamales floating up from the taquerías across the street, Selena sat on a stool on the roof of her building, checking the fabric samples laid out in the open. They were for an upcoming installation on the campus of San Francisco State University. The theme was tolerance, and Selena envisioned scrims stretched taut on enormous frames planted in the earth. On one side would be a picture and personal statement by an ordinary person, describing a small, everyday act of tolerance. On the other a visual pulled from the headlines showing the stark reality of intolerance. She wanted the contrasting images imposed on opposing sides of fabric to highlight what little lay between the two directions. She didn’t have the whole ideological thing worked out yet. Or even the execution. Right now she and Maxine, her assistant, were testing fabrics to find the one most likely to stand up to both the printing process and four weeks of San Francisco’s ever-changing weather.

Drew had taken Axel for an after-school walk—well, run—in the park. For the past few days, he’d been committed to burning off some of his pal’s energy. Neither Selena nor Drew wanted to have to bring back Jack Quinn and his boot-camp ideas. Trouble was the outings seemed to be stoking Axel’s energy levels, not diminishing them.

With a groan, Maxine stood up. “I have to move around. You want some coffee?”

“Please. I made a fresh pot before we came up.” Blowing on her hands, Selena watched Maxine head for the door to the stairway to the apartment below. Although it was probably fifty degrees, up here you caught the brisk winds off the Pacific. Coffee sounded good.

Maxine had been Selena’s art teacher in high school. And when Selena had come back to San Francisco, pregnant, her old home sold, her parents off saving the world, Maxine had helped her find her first job at a community center, teaching adult education art classes. They’d stayed in touch, and when Maxine retired, she’d been eager to keep her artistic juices flowing as Selena’s Jill-of-all-trades assistant. She was also the only grandparent figure Drew knew up close and personal.

“I put a little something in it,” Maxine said, returning several minutes later with two mugs.

“Thanks.” Selena would have to be careful. Maxine’s “little somethings” could knock your socks off. And Selena was really only a two-glasses-of-wine imbiber.

Maxine leaned against the low brick wall that edged the roof. “So are you going to tell me about the dog shrink?”

Selena had been avoiding that subject. “I don’t think he liked it when Drew called him that.”

“The sensitive type. Well, pardon me.”

“Sensitive is the last word I’d use to describe this guy. If I had to pick only one word, it would be controlling.”

“Oh? Whips and masks?”

“He was more subtle. But controlling all the same. Not to mention frosty, smug and a tad dogmatic. Pun intended. Talked a lot about discipline and submission.”

Maxine chuckled. “I’m assuming he was talking about Axel. And a little discipline wouldn’t hurt that four-legged brat.”

“You know how I feel about relationships—even cross-species relationships. They should be built on equality and mutual respect.”

“Then I bet you and this guy got on like a house afire.”

Selena grimaced at the unpleasant thought of Mr. I-Will-Teach-You-To-Be-Pack-Leader Quinn.

“Hey, Selena, give him a break. He’s a dog trainer, for pity’s sake. Someone’s got to be in charge of the training. It might as well be the human.”

“He didn’t like being called a dog trainer, either.”

“So what does he think he is?”

“I don’t know. Some kind of Zen master, for all I know. It doesn’t matter anyway. We gave him the boot.”

“And your backup plan would be?”

“I don’t have—”

Just then a crash and an ear-splitting shriek came from the sidewalk below, followed closely by a string of baritone expletives. Selena jumped up to peer over the wall and saw a river of fruit rolling in a cascade of oranges, yellows, greens and reds over the pavement and into the street.

Axel. She’d bet the farm.

She tore downstairs with Maxine on her heels. Outside, one of the stands that bracketed the produce market door lay overturned on the sidewalk. As Drew and several customers scrambled to right the stand and pick up the fruit, Sam raced around, waving his arms and chasing Axel, who held a grapefruit in his mouth and didn’t seem to understand why Sam didn’t want to play fetch.

On one of his run-bys, Selena grabbed Axel’s collar, then Drew’s sleeve. “Take him upstairs. Now. I’ll settle with Sam.” For once, Drew disappeared with his dog, without argument.

“Sam! Calm down!” Selena stepped in front of the red-faced man who seemed intent on following Axel right up into the apartment. “I’ll clean this up. You tend to your customers.”

“And what will they buy?” Sam growled. “My fruit is ruined!”

“Not all of it, I’m sure,” Maxine said, stepping up to take Sam’s arm, urging him into his shop. “Selena and I’ll check every piece. If it’s good we’ll restack it.”

“And if it’s damaged, I’ll pay for it,” Selena added, her heart sinking. Bruised fruit could not be counted as a project expense. Now breakfast and lunch for the next week looked like smoothies, smoothies and more smoothies. “I’m sorry, Sam. I promise it won’t happen again.”

Maxine almost had the greengrocer inside his shop when he whirled to face Selena. “That dog of yours is a menace. A menace! Do you see Charlie?” Sam waved his arm in the direction of the homeless man across the street, pushing a grocery cart and leading a very large dog as homeless as he. Charlie and Pip existed on the kindness of those who lived and worked in the neighborhood. “Charlie’s taught Pip more manners than most of the parents on this street have taught their kids. Why can’t you control your dog, as well?”

Selena didn’t have an answer to that.

A minivan with the city logo on the side pulled up, and a uniformed woman hopped out, a pole with capture-loop in hand.

“Oh, Sam!” Selena cried. “You didn’t call Animal Control!”

“What else could he do?” Isadore, the owner of the dance studio, asked as a small crowd of neighbors began to gather. “Your dog’s been a problem for all of us.”

His remark was met with nods all around.

“Where’s the dog?” the officer asked.

“My son took him upstairs,” Selena replied. “Everything’s under control.”

“Everything’s not under control,” Sam snapped, indicating the fruit on the ground. “As you can see.”

“Was the dog off-leash when this happened?” the officer asked.

“No,” Sam admitted. “But a leash does no good. Her kid can’t handle that overgrown mutt.”

“Is this true, ma’am?”

“Occasionally…yes.” What else could she say as her neighbors stared her down?

“Did he bite anyone?”

“No! He’s not a biter!” Selena felt insulted on Axel’s behalf.

“He’s a barker!” Isadore exclaimed, warming to the exchange. “Day and night, night and day. Try teaching a dance class when you can hear his yapping over the music.”

“And he never met a garbage can he couldn’t overturn,” someone at the back of the group groused. “Or a lamppost he didn’t christen.”

Selena felt outnumbered. “In our defense, we had a meeting with a dog behaviorist.” She couldn’t believe she was using the odious Jack Quinn to bolster her case. “He says he can turn the situation around. We signed up for three sessions.” Semi-truth if you considered that, until now, she hadn’t planned on seeing him again.

The control officer looked dubious. “Do you have a receipt?”

“Somewhere.” Maybe.

“You’ll need to bring it down to our offices. And, later, proof of course completion. Successful completion. There’s a fine if you don’t comply. Worst-case scenario if there are more complaints, we can impound the dog. So this is serious business. Understand?”

“I understand,” Selena said with sinking heart.

The officer leaned the capture pole against the building, then pulled out a notebook. “In the meantime, I’m writing you a ticket. For disturbing the peace.”

Selena knew this was the time to keep her mouth shut, but when she looked at the ticket, she couldn’t contain herself. “A hundred bucks!”

“And you need to clean up this man’s produce.”

“I’ll take care of it.” Although, as she picked up and inspected Chilean and New Zealand kiwis, pomegranates and mangoes, she wasn’t sure how. Other than asking Jack Quinn for help. More difficult than turning tail and admitting she might need that overbearing man was the thought of convincing Drew of the need.

Drew had liked Jack less than Selena had.

After restacking the saleable fruit and paying for two very large sacks of bruised items—Axel gave new meaning to the phrase “doggie bag”—Selena trudged up to her apartment.

“I’ll finish up on the roof,” Maxine said on the landing. “Call if you need reinforcements.”

Inside the apartment an uncharacteristic silence met her. It seemed both boy and dog—who were nowhere to be seen—knew they’d stepped in deep doo-doo this time for sure. “Drew!”

“In here.” She followed her son’s dejected voice into his room.

He was sprawled on his bed next to Axel. A telephone book lay on the floor, open to the yellow pages. “I tried to find someone else, but there’s no listing for dog shrink.”

“No matter what Mr. Quinn calls himself, I think we’d have to look under dog training.” Selena sat on the edge of the bed. “But we need to talk first.”

“You don’t really want to use this guy, do you?”

No, she didn’t, but her reasons went beyond Jack Quinn’s untested approach to Axel’s reformation. “Why don’t you want to use him?”

“I didn’t like the way he looked at you.”

So her son’s reasons weren’t too far from her own. Except she didn’t know how she felt about the intense way Quinn looked at her. “He knows I’m the one paying,” she offered in explanation. “I think he was trying to convince the comptroller Axel needs help.” She rubbed the dog’s belly. “But we already know that, don’t we?”

“I guess. That doesn’t mean we can’t get help somewhere else.”

“I’ve been thinking about that.” This wasn’t easy for her to admit. “First, Robert recommended this guy. And when I called Dr. Wong for a vet reference, she said he’d be her first choice, too. I wouldn’t know any of these other people in the phone book or their qualifications. Second, I paid Quinn up front. I know he said we could get a refund, but that might end up a hassle. Third, remember it took a week and a half to get him over here? We need help now. If we have to wait another week-and-a-half to get someone new, Sam’s not going to be happy. I bet I could call this Quinn character right now and tell him it’s an emergency, and he’d set up our second visit, pronto.”

“You think?”

“I won’t get off the phone till he does.”

Drew buried his face in Axel’s hairy hide. “I saw Animal Control from the window. Are they gonna take him?”

“Only if we don’t do something quick. I hate to admit it, but we already have the wheels in motion with this guy Quinn.”

“Okay.” Drew didn’t sound in the least convinced. “Call him.”

“Do you still have his card?”

Drew rummaged in his wastebasket and pulled out two ripped halves.

Selena took the pieces, then went into the kitchen to make the call.

He picked up on the first ring. “Jack Quinn here.” She could imagine his deep-set eyes. His stern look relayed over air and wire to skewer her right here in her home.

“H-hello,” she croaked. “This is Selena Milano. You were here a few days ago.”

“I remember. Axel, right?”

“Right. Well…it seems we can use your help after all.”

The long pause caught her off guard. “Mr. Quinn?”

“It’s Jack. I was looking through my schedule. Do you want to come to my center for the second session next Tuesday?”

“Um…we sort of need something yesterday.”

“Someone’s lodged a complaint.”

She hated that he was right. “Y-yes.”

“I’m sensing, even with the complaint, you’re not committed to this process.”

“Oh, I am! It would break Drew’s heart—and Axel’s—if anything should separate them.”

“All right. I can show you and your son everything Axel needs to be happy and well-adjusted. But are you willing to see Axel as a dog, not a furry child? Are you willing to follow my directions?”

She thought about this.

“Selena?” The quiet way he said her name sent shivers down her spine.

“I’m thinking.”

“Well, think about this, too. Can you bring yourself to use the words submission and discipline without thinking of them as negatives?”

How dare he challenge her? She nearly hung up the phone until she remembered the threat of Animal Control. For Drew and Axel—not for Mr. Take Charge on the other end of the line—she finally said, “Yes.” A qualified yes.

“I’m assuming you want Drew to be present. Tomorrow’s Saturday. Come to my center at eleven, and I’ll fit you in.” He gave her the address in an industrial part of town. “Leave Axel at home.”

The man was impossible. “Do you understand the emergency involves Axel? My neighbor isn’t threatening to send my son and me to the pound.”

“I understand. But we’re not going to get anywhere with Axel until you understand a few basics. I want you to observe my pack of well-adjusted dogs.”

His pack of dogs? What was this guy? Urban jungle boy? “And that’s going to help our problem?” she asked, unable to keep the sarcasm from her voice.

“Absolutely. Trust me.”

Oh, no. She might have agreed to follow his doggie-shrink routine for two more paidup sessions, but trust him? She’d learned the hard way to trust no one but herself.

SELENA HATED missing Saturday mornings at Margo’s. That was when she was most likely to run into friends. It seemed ages since she’d caught up with all the others, but the issue with Axel wouldn’t go away. Maybe, if things went well at the dog center, Drew and she could stop in at the café later for scones.

The address Quinn had given her appeared to be a vacant lot between two warehouses. A high, chain-link fence backed by green tarp fronted the property. Stretched on the fence to one side of a wide roll-gate was a professionally painted banner that read Canine Rescue and Rehabilitation with a Web site below. Selena stepped up to a call box hanging next to the gate and pressed the button.

A voice—definitely not Quinn’s deep rumble—said, “May I help you?”

“Selena and Drew Milano. We have an eleven o’clock appointment with Jack Quinn. I know we’re a bit early, but I couldn’t be sure how easy this place would be to find.”

The gate swung open even as the disembodied voice replied, “No problem.”

Selena and Drew stepped into an enclosed area beautifully designed like a Japanese garden. There was the sound of running water, but not a dog in sight. A young man stepped out of a small building to greet them. “Jack said if you got here early, I was to give you a tour. He’s working with a pretty intense case right now, but he’ll be free shortly. I’m Andy. One of the assistants.”

“How many people work here?” Selena was under the impression Jack worked alone with his pack of feral dogs. Out of his jungleboy cave. In a loincloth.

“Three full-timers, including Jack. Three more part-timers. And a half-dozen interns. When it comes to dog issues, we’re the go-to people.” Andy looked quite proud of the fact. “When you’re dealing with animals, it’s a twenty-four-seven, year-round operation. And when you see the size of our resident pack, you’ll see why we need a large crew.”

“So where are the dogs?” Drew asked.

“Through the next gate.” Andy indicated the chain-link fence on the far side of the garden. This fence was covered with tarp as well, so that what was on the other side remained a mystery.

“This is an unusual entrance for a dog center,” Selena said, looking around at the contained yet peaceful landscape.

“Jack designed it with a purpose,” Andy explained. “He believes dog owners must exhibit calm leadership. Even visitors to the center. The garden helps you relax and focus before you enter the dog compound.” He led them toward the far gate. “There’s one more holding area—for humans—but you can observe the pack from there.”

“You keep talking about a pack. How many dogs are there?”

Andy grinned as he slid the second gate open. “You’ll see.”

Selena heard Drew gasp as they stepped into another smaller fenced-in area overlooking a compound the size of a football field neatly subdivided. In the very large section beyond the one in which they stood, dozens of dogs milled quietly about. Some lounged in the shade of awnings hung from the fenced perimeter. Others splashed in water-filled kiddy pools. Still others chased a ball in what looked like a canine game of pickup soccer. Selena was struck by the placid atmosphere even though the dogs were left to their own devices.

“There’s no barking,” Drew said in a near whisper.

“No,” Andy replied. “These are well-adjusted dogs. But they weren’t always like this.”

As a group of dogs came up to the fence, curious to check out the visitors, Selena noted there wasn’t a hyper Axel amongst them. No whining, barking or jumping on the chain link. As well-behaved as they were, however, she saw they weren’t even city-pound-quality. Some were missing a leg, others an eye. Many of them bore ancient scars. “These guys aren’t ever going to be adopted, are they?” she asked.

“It’s doubtful,” Andy replied. “But they have a home for the rest of their lives. Here. Jack’s seen to that. He’s even worked out a deal with the homeless in the area. If, for any reason, they can’t take care of their dogs, they can bring them here. No questions asked. Even if it’s just temporarily until the person thinks they can take care of the dog again.”

Selena wasn’t sure she was ready for Quinn to turn out to be a nice guy.

“Jack’s working at the far end in one of the isolation pens,” Andy said. “I’ll give you the tour as we make our way to him.”

“Through there?” Selena squeaked, as Andy moved to open the gate to the freeroaming dog area. Suddenly wading through a mass of street dogs seemed a little daunting.

“Sure,” Andy replied. “You do know how to meet dogs for the first time?”

“There’s a right way?”

“Absolutely.” Andy looked especially at Drew, who seemed mesmerized by the pack. “No eye contact. No talking. No touching. At least until they’ve sniffed you thoroughly. Keep your head high, your shoulders back. Act like you own the world.”

“Mom’s good at that,” Drew quipped.

“You’ll do fine,” Andy replied with a smile. “When we step through the gate, walk slowly toward the end of the compound, keeping your eyes on the top of that flagpole. I’ll tell you when you can stop and interact.”

She remembered how she’d just scooped up Axel as a pup and brought him home. If dogs were really this complicated they should issue owners’ manuals. The thought gave her pause, but as Andy opened the gate, she took Drew’s hand—it was testament to the power of the pack that he let her—and stepped into Jack Quinn’s world.

She hadn’t anticipated how difficult it would be to walk and not acknowledge the dogs she felt sniffing about her. Her first instinct, once she realized how truly well-behaved they were, was to greet them, pet them, get to know their individual personalities. But, having closed the gate, Andy walked alongside her with a hand on her back propelling her gently, silently forward. It all felt so ritualized she couldn’t help wonder if she’d gotten herself involved in some canine cult.