She lifted her hand and gave him a wave and went inside. She leaned against the door and waited until her breathing evened out. “Sheesh,” she said, unnerved. She was shaking. She sat on the couch and concentrated on just calming down. Once she was under control, she drank a large glass of water. Then she poured herself a glass of wine. She turned on the TV.
In ten minutes, her scalp stopped sweating and dried out. Her hands stopped trembling. The voice of the news anchor became familiar and calming, even if the news was not. She wasn’t sure how long she sat there, cradling her glass of wine. All she was acutely aware of was that her door was closed and she was alone. Safe.
There was a sharp rapping at her front door and she jumped in surprise, sloshing her wine. She brushed at the spill with her hand, annoyed by her jumpiness. “Who is it?” she asked, but she knew.
“It’s me. Landry. Can I have a minute?”
“Do you… Is there… Is the dog with you?”
“No, he’s in my house. He’s staying right there.”
She let out a breath. Whew. She opened the door and he stood there holding two beer bottles by their necks.
“Let’s have a beer and talk,” he said.
“Talk? About?”
“Come out and sit on the porch,” he said. “I think you just had a panic attack. About the dog.”
“I’m not comfortable around…”
“We can talk about that.”
“I don’t think talking about it is likely to change anything,” she said. “I’ve talked about it before. It’s a very old trauma.”
He lifted the beers toward her.
She sighed. “I have a glass of wine. I just poured it. Let me get it.” When she got back to the porch, he was seated on the porch swing.
He took a deep drink of his beer. “Here’s the thing. I think I told you, I’ve dealt with this before. You should always be careful around dogs you don’t know. They can be unpredictable and sometimes unfriendly. You did the right thing—you stayed still and didn’t bolt. That’s good. But Otis gave no sign of being mean or vicious. I think if you’re going to work through this, Otis might be a good place to start. He’s very gentle and he’ll take commands from anyone. Like anyone. He follows the commands of a two-year-old if necessary. He’s been a good companion to several children who are trying to get over their fear.”
“What’s the point? I’m not likely to want a dog. Not after being badly bitten. I was only six. I had to have a couple of surgeries.”
“It’s not so you can be a dog owner,” he said. “You don’t even have to be a dog lover. It’s so your heart doesn’t pound so hard you faint or throw a clot. The point is not to get you to love dogs. It’s so you don’t have to feel that terror every time you see one. If you feel better when you avoid dogs, there’s nothing wrong with that. It’s a question of taste, isn’t it? Probably you’re a kitty person. It’s just about getting over the fear. Not the healthy, reasonable fear. The irrational fear.”
“How do you suppose I do that?”
“With the right dog, for starters. A dog you can absolutely trust.”
“Hmm,” she said, thinking she really didn’t like the idea of being around any dog. “How did you get into this?” she asked, taking a sip of wine.
“Kind of the reverse of your situation. I found a dog who had been abandoned and abused. I was just a kid of fifteen and I carried the dog home. I called her Izzy. I wanted to keep her and get her strong and my dad thought it was a bad idea. He thought the dog’s temperament might be permanently damaged, that she might get scared and attack or run off or just hide in a corner and shake for the rest of her life. But I talked him into it and then I looked everywhere for someone who could show me how to help her gain trust again. There was a trainer over in Fortuna and I went to talk to him. Then I took Izzy with me. He thought she might be about two years old and based on her physical condition, might have been used for fighting from the time she was a pup. Even the trainer said I’d probably be fighting a losing battle. I had to hand-feed her for months. I slept with her and took her everywhere but school. In six months she was the best dog that ever lived. And she was happy. I think she forgot about the abuse.” He looked at her and flashed his grin. It was an engaging, infectious grin that demanded a smile in return. “And I got hooked on training. To have a dog, especially a difficult dog, follow your commands because she wants to—it’s exhilarating. It gives you a friend for life.”