Read Online Always the Wedding Planner, Never the Bride by Sandra D. Bricker - Free Book Online
Authors: Sandra D. Bricker
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her knees as Andy took off to check it out.
"Be careful, Andy."
He leaned into the trees, and she heard his voice raise a couple of octaves as he spoke to whatever creature hid inside the wooded area beyond them.
"Andy! What is it?" she asked between clenched teeth. He grinned at her over his shoulder before returning his attention to the enormous shrub of dirty white fur that emerged.
Sherilyn hopped to her feet. "What is that?"
"It's a dog," he said with a laugh. "A really . . . really! . . . dirty dog."
Andy coaxed the thing out into the open, picking sticks and leaves from its tangled fur. "You don't have to hide," he told the thing. "We're friendly. Come on over here."
The dog stepped out from behind the trees, and Sherilyn could see that it was enormous.
"I think he's a sheepdog," Andy said as he headed toward her, patting out an invitation on his leg for the dog to follow him. "You know, one of those Old English dogs?"
"Like the one in The Little Mermaid."
"Yeah, I guess," he replied. "Only filthy."
Andy sat down on the top stair while Sherilyn stood behind him on the deck. "Come here, boy."
The thing walked right up to him and stood with his nose pressed into Andy's leg. At least Sherilyn thought it was his nose. There were so many dark spots poking out of its fur that she couldn't really be sure.
"What is that smell?" she asked, taking two steps backward.
"Oh, no! Is that him?"
"I think it's him."
"Wow!" Her eyes began to water.
"How long have you been out there on your own, boy?"
Andy asked, pushing the clumps of matted fur back from
the dog's eyes. "Sherilyn, look at this. He has two different colored eyes."
One of the dog's eyes was light crystal blue, and the other a dark brown.
"That's creepy."
"I think it's cool."
"Andy, where's his tail?"
"Sheepdogs don't have tails. They're docked when they're puppies."
"Docked!" she exclaimed. "You mean they cut their tails off? That's horrible!"
"It's like a Doberman. Their tails are docked and their ears cropped within the first month or two of life. The same with sheepdogs and their tails."
"How do you know when he's happy if he can't wag his tail?"
Andy turned and looked at her curiously for a moment before bursting with laughter that made the dog flinch.
"Sorry, buddy. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you." The animal gave them a timid once-over before stepping forward again.
"He smells really bad," Sherilyn remarked, and the dog looked up at her and cocked his head. "Sorry, but you do."
Running his hand around the dog's neck, Andy observed, "He has no collar or identification. And he looks like he's been outside a long time."
"He smells that way too," she added, her hand over her nose and mouth.
"He can't help it," Andy told her. "He's probably lost. And hungry. I'll bet you are, aren't you, boy?"
In the same way that Andy had described his future playing before him the last time they'd visited this house, Sherilyn saw her own version this time around. Except instead of children,
mortgages, and tuition bills, she saw a dog dripping with mud hopping onto the sofa, fleas dancing in the carpet like Mexican jumping beans, and an enormous fur wall between them.
"Andy," she broached. "I'm not really . . . you know . . . a dog person."
"How can you not be a dog person?" he replied on a chuckle, and he smoothed back the fur from the dog's strange eyes. "Look at this guy. Give him a bath, a good meal, and a few squeaky toys to keep him occupied, and what's not to love?"
Uh-oh.
Sherilyn said a silent prayer of thanks when Lola arrived. They left the dog in the backyard and toured the upstairs level of the house, which turned out to be as beautiful as the lower level, and— bonus!— the place came with a fully finished basement as well. The master bathroom had a small skylight and a stained glass arch behind the luxurious garden tub.
"So what do you think?" Lola asked them when they returned to the kitchen for one last look around.
"It's
"Be careful, Andy."
He leaned into the trees, and she heard his voice raise a couple of octaves as he spoke to whatever creature hid inside the wooded area beyond them.
"Andy! What is it?" she asked between clenched teeth. He grinned at her over his shoulder before returning his attention to the enormous shrub of dirty white fur that emerged.
Sherilyn hopped to her feet. "What is that?"
"It's a dog," he said with a laugh. "A really . . . really! . . . dirty dog."
Andy coaxed the thing out into the open, picking sticks and leaves from its tangled fur. "You don't have to hide," he told the thing. "We're friendly. Come on over here."
The dog stepped out from behind the trees, and Sherilyn could see that it was enormous.
"I think he's a sheepdog," Andy said as he headed toward her, patting out an invitation on his leg for the dog to follow him. "You know, one of those Old English dogs?"
"Like the one in The Little Mermaid."
"Yeah, I guess," he replied. "Only filthy."
Andy sat down on the top stair while Sherilyn stood behind him on the deck. "Come here, boy."
The thing walked right up to him and stood with his nose pressed into Andy's leg. At least Sherilyn thought it was his nose. There were so many dark spots poking out of its fur that she couldn't really be sure.
"What is that smell?" she asked, taking two steps backward.
"Oh, no! Is that him?"
"I think it's him."
"Wow!" Her eyes began to water.
"How long have you been out there on your own, boy?"
Andy asked, pushing the clumps of matted fur back from
the dog's eyes. "Sherilyn, look at this. He has two different colored eyes."
One of the dog's eyes was light crystal blue, and the other a dark brown.
"That's creepy."
"I think it's cool."
"Andy, where's his tail?"
"Sheepdogs don't have tails. They're docked when they're puppies."
"Docked!" she exclaimed. "You mean they cut their tails off? That's horrible!"
"It's like a Doberman. Their tails are docked and their ears cropped within the first month or two of life. The same with sheepdogs and their tails."
"How do you know when he's happy if he can't wag his tail?"
Andy turned and looked at her curiously for a moment before bursting with laughter that made the dog flinch.
"Sorry, buddy. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you." The animal gave them a timid once-over before stepping forward again.
"He smells really bad," Sherilyn remarked, and the dog looked up at her and cocked his head. "Sorry, but you do."
Running his hand around the dog's neck, Andy observed, "He has no collar or identification. And he looks like he's been outside a long time."
"He smells that way too," she added, her hand over her nose and mouth.
"He can't help it," Andy told her. "He's probably lost. And hungry. I'll bet you are, aren't you, boy?"
In the same way that Andy had described his future playing before him the last time they'd visited this house, Sherilyn saw her own version this time around. Except instead of children,
mortgages, and tuition bills, she saw a dog dripping with mud hopping onto the sofa, fleas dancing in the carpet like Mexican jumping beans, and an enormous fur wall between them.
"Andy," she broached. "I'm not really . . . you know . . . a dog person."
"How can you not be a dog person?" he replied on a chuckle, and he smoothed back the fur from the dog's strange eyes. "Look at this guy. Give him a bath, a good meal, and a few squeaky toys to keep him occupied, and what's not to love?"
Uh-oh.
Sherilyn said a silent prayer of thanks when Lola arrived. They left the dog in the backyard and toured the upstairs level of the house, which turned out to be as beautiful as the lower level, and— bonus!— the place came with a fully finished basement as well. The master bathroom had a small skylight and a stained glass arch behind the luxurious garden tub.
"So what do you think?" Lola asked them when they returned to the kitchen for one last look around.
"It's
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