trilled something about searching once more for Astra and wafted away, her scarf fluttering behind her like a gossamer blue ponytail.
“Come along, George,” Helen said. “We must feed the puppies. I’m sure that man gave them no attention. Aren’t they sweet?”
I put my hand in the box and let it be attacked by rough little tongues and teeth as sharp as knitting needles. “Can you describe the man who took the puppies?”
“I was at the nursing home when he came. Otherwise, this never would have happened, I can assure you. I’d have asked questions about this farm and demanded to see his driver’s license. I’d have required references.” She gave us a moment to appreciate her purported efficiency, then gazed stonily at her husband. “George dealt with him.”
George smiled benignly. “Yes.”
“The baseball game,” she prompted him.
He looked down for a minute and scratched his head. “That’s right. I was watching the game and dozing when he came. Ordinary fellow, said he’d parked down the street a ways, said he liked dogs.”
“But what did he look like?” Caron said abruptly.
“Ordinary.”
In a steely voice, Helen said, “Go on, George—tell them the truth.”
I would have felt some pity for him, if he hadn’t looked so guilty. About what, I had no theory. He shuffled his feet, rubbed his jaw, and finally said, “I wasn’t wearing my glasses. I took them off and was sound asleep when the doorbell rang.” He put the box down on the grass, took a pair of wire-rimmed bifocals from his pocket, cleaned them with a handkerchief, and settled them on the bridge of his nose.
“He couldn’t bother to find them,” Helen said.
“And I’m blinder than a bat without them,” he continued. His expression reminded me of Nick and Nora after they’d beset me the first day. Repentant, but not necessarily with measurable sincerity. “The man was average, and he sounded like a regular guy. I told him how Juniper had escaped while in heat and that the puppies were half poodle and half whatever was loose in the neighborhood that day. He asked me some questions about Juniper; I just thought he wanted to make sure she’d had all her shots and was in decent health. When I told him the puppies were in the backyard, he said he’d get them himself so as not to disturb me anymore.”
Helen crossed her arms. “Thus giving him an opportunity to examine the gate and consider how best to steal Juniper during the night.”
“You don’t keep her in the house at night?” I asked, surprised that Juniper didn’t have her own bedroom and private bath. This was my first serious encounter with pet owners, and I was beginning to grasp their devotion to their animals. Astra had a basket with a matching bedspread and preferred her fish broiled with butter. Patton no doubt had an air-conditioned doghouse, carpeted in khaki. Nick and Nora’s daily dinner took twenty minutes to prepare, and Miss Emily had noted in a postscript that a nice piece of filet mignon might brighten them up if they seemed depressed by her absence.
With an edge of accusation, Helen said, “George put in a doggie door so Juniper could go out whenever she wanted. She was very restless all evening, missing her puppies, and went outside numerous times to look for them. I attempted to soothe her with warm milk, but when we retired, she was pacing fretfully. I slept late the next morning. George discovered Juniper was gone after he returned from the grocery store.”
“The doggie door was your idea,” George said defensively.
I realized how simple it would be to stick a piece of meat through the doggie door in order to lure the dog outside. Unlike Churls’s pit bulls, all the missing animals were friendly and accustomed to kindness (and little treats) from humans.
A shiver ran down my back, as if Miss Emily’s bus had driven over my grave. I told the Maranonis to call me if anything noteworthy happened, and the girls and I went to
“Come along, George,” Helen said. “We must feed the puppies. I’m sure that man gave them no attention. Aren’t they sweet?”
I put my hand in the box and let it be attacked by rough little tongues and teeth as sharp as knitting needles. “Can you describe the man who took the puppies?”
“I was at the nursing home when he came. Otherwise, this never would have happened, I can assure you. I’d have asked questions about this farm and demanded to see his driver’s license. I’d have required references.” She gave us a moment to appreciate her purported efficiency, then gazed stonily at her husband. “George dealt with him.”
George smiled benignly. “Yes.”
“The baseball game,” she prompted him.
He looked down for a minute and scratched his head. “That’s right. I was watching the game and dozing when he came. Ordinary fellow, said he’d parked down the street a ways, said he liked dogs.”
“But what did he look like?” Caron said abruptly.
“Ordinary.”
In a steely voice, Helen said, “Go on, George—tell them the truth.”
I would have felt some pity for him, if he hadn’t looked so guilty. About what, I had no theory. He shuffled his feet, rubbed his jaw, and finally said, “I wasn’t wearing my glasses. I took them off and was sound asleep when the doorbell rang.” He put the box down on the grass, took a pair of wire-rimmed bifocals from his pocket, cleaned them with a handkerchief, and settled them on the bridge of his nose.
“He couldn’t bother to find them,” Helen said.
“And I’m blinder than a bat without them,” he continued. His expression reminded me of Nick and Nora after they’d beset me the first day. Repentant, but not necessarily with measurable sincerity. “The man was average, and he sounded like a regular guy. I told him how Juniper had escaped while in heat and that the puppies were half poodle and half whatever was loose in the neighborhood that day. He asked me some questions about Juniper; I just thought he wanted to make sure she’d had all her shots and was in decent health. When I told him the puppies were in the backyard, he said he’d get them himself so as not to disturb me anymore.”
Helen crossed her arms. “Thus giving him an opportunity to examine the gate and consider how best to steal Juniper during the night.”
“You don’t keep her in the house at night?” I asked, surprised that Juniper didn’t have her own bedroom and private bath. This was my first serious encounter with pet owners, and I was beginning to grasp their devotion to their animals. Astra had a basket with a matching bedspread and preferred her fish broiled with butter. Patton no doubt had an air-conditioned doghouse, carpeted in khaki. Nick and Nora’s daily dinner took twenty minutes to prepare, and Miss Emily had noted in a postscript that a nice piece of filet mignon might brighten them up if they seemed depressed by her absence.
With an edge of accusation, Helen said, “George put in a doggie door so Juniper could go out whenever she wanted. She was very restless all evening, missing her puppies, and went outside numerous times to look for them. I attempted to soothe her with warm milk, but when we retired, she was pacing fretfully. I slept late the next morning. George discovered Juniper was gone after he returned from the grocery store.”
“The doggie door was your idea,” George said defensively.
I realized how simple it would be to stick a piece of meat through the doggie door in order to lure the dog outside. Unlike Churls’s pit bulls, all the missing animals were friendly and accustomed to kindness (and little treats) from humans.
A shiver ran down my back, as if Miss Emily’s bus had driven over my grave. I told the Maranonis to call me if anything noteworthy happened, and the girls and I went to
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