minute Glory woke up in the morning until the time she went to bed, part of her mind was on keeping Caddy out of trouble. She wished people who fell for the fluffy, ears-down, masked puppies could see him on a bad day. In the six years he’d lived at Solomon’s Oak, Cadillac had chewed the cushions of a secondhand couch in Dan’s workshop, spreading stuffing everywhere, scratched the barn door to bits during a thunderstorm, and “antiqued” a 1920s Sioux Star Pendleton blanket. All that was replaceable, if expensive, but when the dog chewed the horn off Dan’s Fiesta model Bohlin stock saddle, well, Glory had never seen her husband so angry. The vein in his forehead pulsed and she worried he might have a stroke.
Back at the barn, she gave each dog a quick brushing and threw the fluorescent tennis balls for ten minutes. She scrubbed and filled their food bowls. Dodge practiced his sit-stays and did fairly well, considering the wedding drama had worked him up into a jittery mess. When Glory asked Cadillac to heel off leash and walk by the goats, he minded at first, but sneaked in the tracking posture with his back end higher than his front until Glory snapped her fingers and said, “Quit.”
After a final opportunity to eliminate, both dogs settled down in their kennels, ignoring the blankets inside their insulated doghouses, preferring to sit on the roofs until morning. Glory looked up at the house, at the lights shining, and would have rather scooped poop for an hour instead of going indoors to the cranky girl.
But she did go inside, and by the time she did, she’d adjusted her attitude the way she had with each of the foster boys. She smiled at Juniper, who sat on the couch, her hands in her lap. An open Diet Cherry Coke sat directly on the oak end table, though a coaster was right next to it, but Glory said nothing. She walked down the hall and let Edsel out of her bedroom. He raced down the hall, did a lap around the kitchen, and barked at Juniper. “Shh,” Glory said, as she fed him the organic diet that helped with his seizures.
Juniper watched silently. “What the heck is that?” she finally asked. “A mutant Chihuahua?”
“He’s an Italian greyhound.”
“He looks like a starving lab rat.”
“I know. But he gets plenty to eat. This is how they’re built. Are you still hungry?”
“I could eat some more of that cake.”
“I noticed you didn’t eat much dinner.”
“So put me on restriction.”
Glory picked up Edsel and held him out for Juniper to pet, but she shied away.
“Get that skanky rat away from me!”
Edsel wagged his tail. Everyone who met Edsel fell in love with the ten-pound comedian who made Glory laugh at least once a day. The girl’s overtired, Glory told herself. She divided the last of the cake into two pieces that each had a scrim of glittery wave frosting. She set the plates down on the coffee table. “Here you go, Juniper.”
The girl picked up a plate and began eating. Glory couldn’t help staring at the metal in her upper lip. It looked like a fishhook, as if she’d been snagged but tossed back.
Juniper licked the frosting off her fork tines like a five-year-old.
Glory fetched her purse and handed the girl two twenty-dollar bills and a ten.
“Whoo-hoo,” Juniper said limply. “I’ll try not to spend it all in one place.”
Glory sighed. “I’m trying to be nice, Juniper. But you make it hard.”
“So? Tomorrow I’ll be handed off to some trailer-trash family who need the money Social Services will pay them. I’ll be eating mac and Velveeta. They’ll be all nice at first. They always are. ‘Help yourself to whatever’s in the fridge. Make yourself a sandwich whenever you feel like it. Take second helpings.’ Then pretty soon they’ll say how I’m wasting food and how the money the county pays them doesn’t cover how much I eat.” She stopped to lick her fork again. “They’ll get mad, and it’ll be like … ” She held up her hand as
Back at the barn, she gave each dog a quick brushing and threw the fluorescent tennis balls for ten minutes. She scrubbed and filled their food bowls. Dodge practiced his sit-stays and did fairly well, considering the wedding drama had worked him up into a jittery mess. When Glory asked Cadillac to heel off leash and walk by the goats, he minded at first, but sneaked in the tracking posture with his back end higher than his front until Glory snapped her fingers and said, “Quit.”
After a final opportunity to eliminate, both dogs settled down in their kennels, ignoring the blankets inside their insulated doghouses, preferring to sit on the roofs until morning. Glory looked up at the house, at the lights shining, and would have rather scooped poop for an hour instead of going indoors to the cranky girl.
But she did go inside, and by the time she did, she’d adjusted her attitude the way she had with each of the foster boys. She smiled at Juniper, who sat on the couch, her hands in her lap. An open Diet Cherry Coke sat directly on the oak end table, though a coaster was right next to it, but Glory said nothing. She walked down the hall and let Edsel out of her bedroom. He raced down the hall, did a lap around the kitchen, and barked at Juniper. “Shh,” Glory said, as she fed him the organic diet that helped with his seizures.
Juniper watched silently. “What the heck is that?” she finally asked. “A mutant Chihuahua?”
“He’s an Italian greyhound.”
“He looks like a starving lab rat.”
“I know. But he gets plenty to eat. This is how they’re built. Are you still hungry?”
“I could eat some more of that cake.”
“I noticed you didn’t eat much dinner.”
“So put me on restriction.”
Glory picked up Edsel and held him out for Juniper to pet, but she shied away.
“Get that skanky rat away from me!”
Edsel wagged his tail. Everyone who met Edsel fell in love with the ten-pound comedian who made Glory laugh at least once a day. The girl’s overtired, Glory told herself. She divided the last of the cake into two pieces that each had a scrim of glittery wave frosting. She set the plates down on the coffee table. “Here you go, Juniper.”
The girl picked up a plate and began eating. Glory couldn’t help staring at the metal in her upper lip. It looked like a fishhook, as if she’d been snagged but tossed back.
Juniper licked the frosting off her fork tines like a five-year-old.
Glory fetched her purse and handed the girl two twenty-dollar bills and a ten.
“Whoo-hoo,” Juniper said limply. “I’ll try not to spend it all in one place.”
Glory sighed. “I’m trying to be nice, Juniper. But you make it hard.”
“So? Tomorrow I’ll be handed off to some trailer-trash family who need the money Social Services will pay them. I’ll be eating mac and Velveeta. They’ll be all nice at first. They always are. ‘Help yourself to whatever’s in the fridge. Make yourself a sandwich whenever you feel like it. Take second helpings.’ Then pretty soon they’ll say how I’m wasting food and how the money the county pays them doesn’t cover how much I eat.” She stopped to lick her fork again. “They’ll get mad, and it’ll be like … ” She held up her hand as
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