She did so, though her hand shook.
“Try s-i-t,” he suggested, spelling it. Before she could get the words out, Otis sat, making Landry laugh. “Okay, here’s a better way. I’m going to give him a few training commands and then I want you to do it. Otis, come.” The dog sat at his side instantly. “Heel, heel, heel,” he said, and Otis walked at his knee, even as Landry turned. “Good boy,” he said, petting him. “Sit,” he said, and the dog obeyed. “Down,” he said, and the dog was on his belly. “Stay,” he said, then turned and walked away. From the other side of the room, he said, “Otis, place.” Otis went immediately to his mat. “You are good, Otis.” He turned to Kaylee. “Have a go.”
Kaylee took a deep breath and put Otis through his paces, her voice a little bit nervous, but Otis just looked up at her adoringly and did exactly as she asked. She did that several times. She gave him a pat and told him he was a good boy each time, and when she was ready to be done, she told him to go to his place. But first he lay on his back with his paws up, looking for a belly rub.
“No, Otis,” Landry said. “Go to your place.” The dog got up wearily, probably disappointed. “You can give him a belly rub if you feel like it,” Landry said.
Kaylee sheepishly went to the mat, looked down at Otis and said, “Otis, roll over.” The dog rolled over for her. Her eyes and mouth both got big and round. She reached down and gave him a gentle scratch on the belly. Then she told him to stay and went back to the kitchen. “Wine,” she said.
“You did great,” Landry said with a laugh. “Are you comfortable that Otis won’t hurt you?”
“I guess so,” she said. “But I’m not going to make any fast moves.”
Landry smiled at her. He poured a glass of wine for her and she sat up at the breakfast bar.
“Otis is very smart,” Landry said. “Too smart for his own good sometimes. He knows how to open his door, for example. And even though that door opens into the backyard, which is fenced, he can jump the fence. I’ve pulled up to the house to see him waiting on the front porch. If you see him outside, don’t freak out. He might walk over to you but you can tell him to lie down or go home.”
“You’re sure about that?” she asked, sipping her wine.
“I’m very sure,” Landry said. “He’s an excellent dog. I take him on visits to hospitals and nursing homes. Everyone loves Otis. Okay, I’m going to boil some spaghetti. I even made a salad and I have some garlic bread.”
And she was suddenly famished. The spaghetti was absolutely delicious, the salad was great, the bread was crunchy and wonderful. And the dog stayed on his mat.
Landry’s phone rang and he ignored it. “Do you want to get that?” she asked.
“Whoever it is can leave a message. I even have dessert.”
They took their coffee and dessert to the sofa and talked. He asked her how the book was coming and she told him it was a little better than it had been in Newport Beach in her mother’s house. She was hopeful of finishing it this fall. She’d always loved the fall and would love it even more in the mountains.
Then she stopped talking as Otis’s head appeared on her lap. He looked up at her with his big sad brown eyes. She looked back at him. The she put her hand on his head and his tail wagged.
“I might’ve forgotten to mention, Otis falls in love easily. But you’re not his first and you probably won’t be his last. I don’t want you to have a broken heart.”
* * *
The call Landry missed while he was having dinner with Kaylee was from Laura. He hadn’t heard from her in a while. They had married eleven years ago. They met in San Francisco in the diner where she worked. It happened to be in the same neighborhood as the warehouse where he rented space to create his art because his small flat was just too small.
Landry had gone to college in San Francisco and loved the city. Three years after college he was still there, working away on his pots, vases, wind chimes, sculptures, whatever struck his artistic nerve. He also worked to keep body and soul together, sometimes working construction, sometimes waiting tables or bartending. Laura was working in the diner to pay for her acting habit—she wanted to be a star. She auditioned for plays, TV commercials, small movie roles, anything that came along. They had art in common and when they met and fell in love it was like a bushfire—burning hot and fast. After a year of seeing each other, they got married in a small, quiet Spanish church in Oakland. They were happy every day. They frequented old movies, galleries, diners that were open late and absolutely any parade or celebration in the city. They were young, carefree, hopeful.