A Perfect Love by Lori Copeland Page B

Tallulah had made a break for it. She felt as though she’d been in the Betty Ford Cruller Center the last few weeks. She strained to peer over her trimmer backside. Shoot. Her hindquarters didn’t look that much thinner, but she’d rather have the crullers.
    Rising to her feet, she watched Russell bathe little gid-gets and gadgets in the bucket of liquid stink. The handsome lobsterman was nice. On good days he shared his tuna-salad sandwich with her. Other days he walked up to the house to eat lunch with his wife. Those two were real interesting to watch. Always nuzzling and holding paws.
    â€œSo how are you this morning, Tallulah?”
    Ah, Russell had time to do a bit of neighborin’. She stood up on her hind legs, her front paws fanning the air.
    â€œWhat’s up, girl? Looking for a treat? You should try my house—I didn’t finish my breakfast. There was so much racket going on I had to get out of there.” The corners of his muzzle drooped.
    Well, he just needed a cruller. That’d fix whatever was ailin’ him.
    Tallulah dropped to all fours and checked on the ferry’s progress. The big boat was moving slowly across the water, cutting through the waves as if it had all the time in the world. Didn’t Captain Stroble know she was hungry?
    â€œYou got a boyfriend, Tallulah?”
    Her head snapped up. Say what?
    Russell grinned and wiped his hands on a cloth. “Surely you have a significant other?”
    Tallulah didn’t think much in life was significant . . . except for crullers.
    Russell grinned at her. “Love is great, ole girl, when it’s going right. When it’s going wrong—well, let’s just say it can be pretty rough. Do you know what I mean?”
    Actually, she didn’t have a clue what he was jabbering about, but she was willing to sympathize.
    Leaping onto the deck of his boat, Russell kept talking. “Babs and I get along great most of the time. I love her and I know she loves me, but living with her folks kinda puts a strain on the relationship.”
    Not knowing what else to do, Tallulah thumped her tail in commiseration.
    â€œDon’t get me wrong—Floyd and Cleta treat me well. Cleta spoils Barbara more than she should, but I don’t mind. I work long hours, and Barbara would get lonesome if she didn’t have somebody around.” Russell dropped a tool and bent to pick it up, then rested for a moment. “The thing is, Barbara and I need our own place. We need privacy— room to breathe. Cleta’s always there; she makes breakfast, lunch, and supper. If we watch TV anywhere besides our bedroom, we have to watch the TV shows Cleta likes, and we associate with Floyd and Cleta’s friends.” He looked at Tallulah. “For months Cleta nagged me about church on Sunday, and I was grateful to have work as an excuse. Not that I have anything against God or the preacher—I’m on good terms with both, really. But Cleta was driving me nuts, so I took the boat out just . . . well, to be ornery, I guess. But not long ago I realized that being stubborn with family is no way to make a life together.”
    He reached out and scratched Tallulah’s ears. “Some folks would say we’ve got it made. We don’t pay rent; Floyd won’t even hear of us paying for groceries. Cleta and Micah do the cleaning and cooking, so Barbara and I live like royalty.”
    Tallulah tilted her head. Then what’s the beef?
    â€œI’m not ungrateful; I just want a place of our own. And kids. Maybe a boy, and then a girl.”
    Russell’s
voice drifted away, and he looked sad.
    Then Russell reached into a sack, pulled out a cookie, and tossed it toward her. Springing lightly forward, Tallulah caught the treat in her mouth.
    Yummm. Oreos.
    She crunched the cookie. Chocolate-centered Oreos. Oh, bliss!
    â€œIs that Tallulah?” Dr. Marc came down the hill wearing a lightweight jacket and