Read Online Death of a Dog Whisperer (9780758284570) by Laurien Berenson - Free Book Online Page A

spilling out onto the porch. Together they galloped down the steps and raced across the driveway. I had unsnapped Kevin from his car seat and placed him on the ground but as the Poodles quickly surrounded us I reached down and hoisted the toddler up so that he wouldn’t get bowled over by their enthusiastic greeting.
    â€œPut down,” Kevin said firmly. Just like his older brother; if something interesting was happening, he wanted to be right in the middle of it.
    With caution, I complied. Now that the race to welcome us was over, the Poodles’ tempo slowed. They swarmed around our legs and sniffed our clothes. No doubt they were comparing notes on where Kevin and I had been before our arrival in their world.
    â€œZeke,” Kevin announced, pointing. The male dog wagged his tail.
    â€œHope.” He pointed again. And was right for the second time.
    â€œAmazing,” I said.
    Even at his young age Kevin was clearly a dog lover, but I’d never seen him do that before. There were plenty of adults who couldn’t separate out a group of similarly bred, similarly groomed, black dogs with just a single glance.
    â€œBobo!” Kevin finished with a triumphant giggle. The Poodle in question sidled over and pressed his nose against Kevin’s chest.
    â€œJust Beau,” Aunt Peg corrected sternly. She had come down the steps to join us.
    â€œBobo!” Kevin repeated just as forcefully.
    I could see this wasn’t going to end well.
    Aunt Peg hunkered down so that she and Kevin were eye to eye. “His name is Beau,” she said again. “Bobo sounds like the name of a clown. It’s much too undignified for a Poodle of Beau’s stature.”
    â€œYou’re trying to reason with a two-year-old,” I told her. “That doesn’t work.”
    â€œNonsense! There’s no reason a child shouldn’t respond to training just as a puppy would.”
    Aunt Peg never had children of her own, can you tell?
    â€œBobo!” Kevin crowed happily. Now that he’d discovered that the name got a reaction from his aunt, it was his new favorite word.
    Aunt Peg waggled a finger in his direction. “I said no .”
    Wonderful. Two of the most stubborn people I’d ever met were facing off. Left to their own devices, they’d probably be happy to stand there and argue all afternoon. I swooped down and picked Kevin up.
    â€œHe’s two, Aunt Peg. He thinks the word no is a challenge.”
    â€œIndeed.” Peg snorted.
    She made a swishing motion with her hand. Immediately the Poodles stopped what they were doing and preceded us into the house. Aunt Peg closed the door behind us, then cocked a critical eye at Kevin.
    â€œMaybe you’re not as good a parent as you used to be,” she said. “As I recall, Davey was better behaved at that age.”
    â€œYou didn’t know Davey when he was two,” I pointed out.
    I could see that Aunt Peg wanted to disagree. But then she thought for a moment, and nodded. When Davey was a toddler, she and I had been virtual strangers. Back then, the Turnbull clan had been hopelessly fractured due to a longstanding rift between my father and his brother, Peg’s husband, Max. Ironically it had been Max’s death that had brought Aunt Peg and me together. We’d worked as a team to find his killer and unexpectedly become friends in the process.
    â€œTell me all about Nick’s visit,” I said ten minutes later. Peg and I were settled out back on the wraparound porch with iced tea and thick slices of shadow cake. “Did it go well?”
    Below us, Kevin had followed the dogs down into the yard. He was holding his piece of cake cupped in his hands. The Poodles were too polite to steal it from him but all five were keeping a hopeful eye on the proceedings. The moment anything slipped through his fingers, it would be snatched up before it could hit the ground.
    â€œIt went very well,” Aunt