Practicing Parenthood. Cara Lockwood
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enormous paws, oversized for its body. Though, now that he was closer, he saw that the dog was smaller than he’d first thought. He was mostly fur. The dog probably weighed only thirty pounds.
“What if he’s rabid?”
“I’m sure he’s not,” Madison said. He saw that she took notice of his shirtless chest, her eyes momentarily on his torso. Was it his imagination or did her eyes linger there a bit longer than they ought to? Well, let her look. He hadn’t had time to throw on a shirt. He’d thought she was being mauled by a rabid dog.
“He knocked you down.” Collin still felt his heart thudding as he reached out and helped her to her feet. “Are you okay? Is...” He couldn’t even get out the word baby. “Is everything okay?”
“I’m fine,” Madison said as she shook a leaf out of her hair, then batted his hands away. “He didn’t knock me down. He surprised me, and I slipped.”
“Same difference.” He shifted, the sandy soil filled with shells poking at his bare feet. “You all right?” he asked once more.
“Fine,” she snapped. “I told you. And what are you even doing here? I thought you went home.”
“You thought wrong. I rented the house next door.”
“Why?”
He heard a note of annoyance in her voice. He was worried about her—was that a crime? For a second, she reminded him of his mother: stoic, stubborn, refusing to admit she ever needed help. The woman would work until she collapsed, never complaining.
“Because we need to talk.”
Before Madison could answer, the shaggy yellow dog barked. He looked like some dog experiment gone wrong. His poofy, curly yellow fur hung in his eyes, and his shaggy coat made him look, at a guess, part poodle and part sheepdog. Or maybe part golden retriever. The little guy had big floppy ears and a long fluffy tail that curled up like the feather on a musketeer’s hat. He wore no collar, and bits of leaves and brush were poking out of his thick fur. Collin had never been much of an animal person—living with a single mom in the Bronx meant he’d never had a dog growing up. His mother barely had enough money to buy them food, much less food for a pet. Collin had spent most of his childhood convincing himself he’d never wanted one, anyway. He studied the dog with suspicion.
Madison, however, leaned down and ran her hands through the dog’s furry head, scratching him behind the ears.
“Who’s a good boy?” she said. “You look just like a teddy bear.”
“If a wolf can look like a teddy bear,” Collin grumbled.
She continued to rub the dog and his back foot instantly began bobbing, as if he was trying to scratch an invisible itch.
“Aw, you’re adorable, yes, you are.” Madison’s voice went high and baby-like, and Collin felt a stab of jealousy. Why did she like this strange little stray mutt more than him?
“He probably has fleas,” he said, noticing how much the dog seemed to appreciate being pet nearly anywhere, as Madison continued massaging his back and he kept moving gleefully to divert her attention to a new spot.
Madison ignored Collin’s remark. “You don’t have a collar,” she said. “Who’s your owner, boy?” She waited patiently as if the dog might answer her.
“You know he can’t speak, right?” Collin pointed out, but Madison just frowned.
“You’re thirsty, aren’t you? And hungry. When was the last time you had a drink?” She shook her head. Why was that her problem? Collin wondered. “Wait with him. Don’t let him leave,” Madison ordered, as she ran up the wooden staircase to her front door.
“But...” Collin didn’t like dogs. Or cats. Or anything with fur and teeth. He stared down at the dog, who had a big pink tongue hanging out its mouth as it panted, and he had no idea what he was supposed to do. The dog pushed his nose up against his crotch to sniff.
“Hey, back off,” he said, squirming in the opposite direction. Then, as he was trying to maneuver farther back, the dog gave his hand a big sticky lick. Ew. Probably all kinds of germs in that drool, he thought with disgust, as he wiped his hand on his shorts. The dog leaned forward again and licked his toes. Collin nearly leaped a mile straight in the air. “That’s it... You...” He jumped away from the dog and nearly fell. He had half a mind to scare the dog off. A stray wasn’t their problem, no matter how much Madison wanted to make it hers.
She emerged with a bowl of water, a small belt and a white nylon rope. She put the bowl down in front of the mangy mutt, and he began lapping up the water as if he hadn’t had any in days.
“Thought you looked thirsty, boy,” she said as she bent down and wrapped her belt around the dog’s neck, using it as a makeshift collar. She attached the nylon rope and tied it to one of the posts of her front steps. “Now you won’t run off before we can find your owner.”
“We?” Collin asked, anxious. “Let’s call animal control. Then he won’t be anybody’s problem anymore. They can take him to the pound.”
“The pound!” Madison cried, shocked. “No way. Besides, this island is too small for that. We’ve got one fire station and not even a police station.”
Collin frowned. “What if there’s trouble? Does everybody just hope it goes away?”
“Usually there isn’t, but in an emergency, we call the shore, and the police can helicopter someone over.”
“But they can’t get here that fast,” Collin noted, not liking the idea of his future wife and future baby being on an island where the police were a helicopter flight away.
“It’s a peaceful place,” she said. “Or was. Till you got here.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Collin asked, defensive. Near his feet, the yellow dog lifted his now-wet snout from the bowl of water and whined.
“Never mind. Anyway, there’s no pound, so we’re going to find his owner.”
“What if he doesn’t have one?”
The dog cocked his head to one side. “We’re on an island, so I don’t think he swam here.” She glared at him, and he felt the sudden urge to march back to his rental house, grab his things and head straight for the first ferry off this little rock.
“What if they don’t want this ugly dog back?”
“He’s not ugly! He’s adorable.”
Collin sighed. Here went the softhearted defense attorney, wanting to give everyone a second chance.
“I think he’s a poodle mix. Maybe a labradoodle or a golden doodle.”
“He’s a no-doodle, if you ask me.” Collin frowned at the dog.
“You’re so mean!” Madison exclaimed. “Can’t you have a heart, for once?”
“I have a heart,” he argued, a little taken aback.
“Really?” She looked skeptical and that stung.
“I’m not that bad. Only to the bad guys.”
“Look, why don’t you go back to...” Madison lost her train of thought. “...wherever you came from and I’ll take care of the dog. I can go knock on doors.”
“You? Take this disaster around and knock on strangers’ doors?” Collin was horrified. “In your condition?” He suddenly imagined a host of problems—heat stroke or an accident—or even worse, serial killers lurking behind every palm tree.
“I’m pregnant, not paralyzed,” Madison said, narrowing her eyes. “And you don’t care about this dog, so I’ll do it.”
Collin let out a sigh. He’d have to go with her. He didn’t want her wandering around the island