Raining Cats & Dogs (A Melanie Travis Mystery) Read Free Page A

outraged by the number of pet dogs that routinely ran free through his suburban neighborhood. Eventually, he’d come up with the idea of holding beginner obedience lessons once a week for anyone on his block who cared to attend.
    Over time, the classes’ popularity had grown, and as of the previous year, Steve’s lessons were offered under the guise of adult education and held in the basement of the YMCA. Beginners went on Tuesday nights. The advanced sessions, in which Faith and I were to take part, were held on Thursdays.
    For seven o’clock on a weekday night, the parking lot of the Y was surprisingly full. Faith was sitting beside me on the front seat as I pulled in and parked. The big Poodle was accustomed to going places with me, but Eve usually came with us, too. I could tell that Faith was excited by the prospect of an outing where she would have my undivided attention.
    I twisted in my seat and slipped the choke collar over her head, placing it so that when Faith was on my left side, as she’d be for most of the obedience lessons, it would release quickly and correctly. Faith stood up on the seat and shook her head experimentally. The collar rattled around her neck, then settled back into place, nestled into the thick hair beneath her ears.
    Poodles that are being shown never wear collars except when they’re in the ring, because the constant friction causes the oh-so-important mane hair to mat and rub away. Faith had been retired for more than a year, and I’d long since clipped off the elaborate continental trim she’d worn to attain her championship. But somehow I’d never gotten around to putting a collar on her. As the Poodle dipped, then raised her head, flipping the choke chain into place once more, I knew she was wondering what was up.
    The parking lot was well lit, and I could see several people taking their dogs for one last walk on the stretch of grass that wrapped around three sides of the building. A Doberman Pinscher, a Cairn Terrier, and a Papillon all walked sedately at the ends of their leashes, sniffing the ground as they looked for a likely spot, but still keeping one eye trained on their owners. Each ignored the distraction caused by the other dogs. I snapped the six-foot leather leash to the ring on the end of Faith’s collar and got out to join them.
    The three dog owners, two women and a man, had been talking among themselves. As we approached, their gazes shifted in our direction. Being dog people, they looked at Faith first, appraising her quickly before lifting their eyes to me.
    “You must be the newbie,” said the woman holding the black-and-tan Doberman. She looked every bit as sleek and strong as her dog. Leash already in her left hand, she extended her right for me to shake. “I’m Julie Hyland. Jack, sit.”
    Immediately, the Doberman’s hindquarter sank to the ground. He stared at Faith curiously. She stared right back. I placed myself between them and shook Julie’s hand.
    “Melanie Travis,” I said. “And this is Faith. How did you know I was new?”
    “Steve told us we’d be adding a Poodle to the group,” said the man with the Cairn. His smile revealed a small gap between his front teeth. “And your girl certainly fits the bill. I’m Mark Terry. Nice to meet you.” His terrier sauntered over to touch noses with Faith. We all watched until both dogs wagged their tails.
    “Don’t forget us,” said the third member of the group. She was fortyish, plump, and had blond hair that was fading to gray. Despite her words, she didn’t look like the kind of person who would allow herself to be overlooked for long. “I’m Stacey. I won’t even bother giving you my last name. You’ll meet so many new people tonight you’ll never remember them all anyway. And this is Bubbles.”
    I almost laughed but caught myself just in time.
    Stacey nodded at my reaction as if she’d seen it before. “I know, the name’s entirely lacking in dignity, even for a small dog.