“Hey! Lady! You forgot your dog!”
I looked over my shoulder. There was such a wealth of “you ditz”—or something worse— in those few words, not to mention a New York gruffness out of place at Peet’s in Aptos, California. Then I realized he was talking to me. I don’t own a dog. I turned and walked slowly back to the table I’d just been at, staring at the cute Benji-looking mutt sitting alertly next to my chair, with a leash dangling from his mouth.
***
“This isn’t my dog,” I said, but the New Yorker had turned back to his table of friends, as if I didn’t exist.
“Don’t worry, it’s just for a little while.”
“What?” I turned full circle. There was no one around except the table with the New Yorker. I looked at the dog, intending to complain, even though I knew he wouldn’t understand, like when I talk to my computer. He was standing now, slowly wagging his tail and looking at me with a gentle smile, as if waiting for me to catch on.
***
I did everything I could to find the dog’s owner. Mutt. He told me at one point his name was Mutt. Who the heck names their dog Mutt?! Anyway, I still had Mutt a few days later when I was grabbing my keys to visit a friend in a retirement home. I considered.
“Do you want to stay here, or come with me to visit Sheila?” Even as I spoke I realized how silly I was being.
“I’d like to visit, please.”
What the heck? Am I going crazy? I’m talking to a dog, a dog I don’t even know, I might add. And he’s talking back! I looked at Mutt suspiciously.
“You know, I’ve had many dogs, Mutt, but none of them have talked to me like this.” He smiled and waved his tail slowly. “Alright then. This feels very strange, but let’s go. You will behave yourself, right? No romping or jumping? Many of the people at Sheila’s place can’t move very well and one fall could kill them.” Mutt looked at me with a patient gentle smile. “This is very odd. OK let’s go.”
“Good morning,” I greeted Laura, the receptionist, as I signed in. “Is it OK if….” But Laura cut me off.
“Sheila’s waiting for you in the living room.” She smiled. I glanced down at Mutt. He smiled at me. I guessed Laura sees plenty of dogs come in.
I love the living room. It’s long, with one wall of full-length windows looking out on a garden. There are groupings of sofas and wing chairs, and very few rugs. People in wheelchairs and people who can just shuffle don’t do well with area rugs. The traditional sofas, covered in French blue velvet and with warm wood accents, make the place elegant and welcoming.
Sheila was sitting in one of the wing chairs, reading a book.
“Hello hello,” I called, giving her a peck on the cheek. “What are you reading?”
“Hey there! That last Maisie Dobbs book you brought me. And who’s this?” Sheila asked as she scratched Mutt under the chin. “I thought you were going to wait before getting another dog?”
“Well, it’s a funny story…,” I stopped. Mutt had turned alertly to watch one of the assistants wheel in another resident.
“That’s Ann,” Sheila told me, her voice low. “Very sad story. She was the most vivacious woman, she and her husband were so fun to talk with, but a few days ago he died. No warning, no slow decline. One moment he was here, the next, his place at the table empty. Very sad. Ann hasn’t recovered. She stopped walking. It’s almost as if she doesn’t want to go on.”
Before I knew it, Mutt had left my side and walked over to Ann. He turned and looked at me as if to say ‘Thanks!’ Mutt sat in front of Ann and watched her patiently. As soon as Ann noticed him he leapt into her lap.
“Mutt!” I gasped and rushed to pull him off and apologize. I was so mortified! Mutt looked at me, gentle and calm. Time slowed way down. A smile unfurled on Ann’s face, she recovered her hand from under Mutt and gently laid it on his ruff.
Time clicked back into place. I could hear the birds chirping in the garden again. I shared an astonished look with Sheila.
“What was that all about?” she asked.
“That was very odd. I guess I’m just a delivery service,” I said.
“Or a matchmaker,” Sheila winked. “Come on, tell me what you’ve been up to.”
Bio: Lisette Gerald-Yamasaki has a BA in English/Creative Writing from Stanford University. She had an application article published in P&IM Review, and has edited various technical papers and a restaurant review guide. In 2010 she “won” NaNoWriMo. Lisette lives in California with her husband, daughter, and Standard Poodle.
Delivery Service
