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

But Bubbles was a rescue, and that’s what she came with. After all she’d been through, I figured the least I could do was let her keep her own name.”
    The Papillon cocked her head to one side and gazed up at us. Her ears, large for her size and covered in long, silky hair, flicked back and forth. “You hear your name, don’t you?” Stacey cooed, pursing her lips and making kissing sounds. “What a little sweetheart you are. How anyone could have been so cruel as to abandon you by the side of the road—”
    “Maybe you’ll have time to tell Melanie the story later,” Julie broke in, sounding exasperated. “But now, if we don’t get moving, we’re going to be late for class.”
    “Oh, right. Of course. Wouldn’t want to be late, would we?” Stacey leaned over and scooped Bubbles up into her arms, then hurried toward the back door of the Y.
    “She means well,” Mark said as the three of us followed more slowly. “And Stacey couldn’t be nicer to her dogs. But she does tend to talk.”
    “A lot,” Julie added. I saw that Jack had automatically taken up a heeling position beside her left leg. “In fact, if there’s anything you want to know about our little group, just ask Stacey. I’m sure she’ll be happy to tell you everything.”
    Julie, I noticed, didn’t sound entirely pleased about that.
    “Maybe you can tell me one thing. When I signed up for these classes, I was told that the first session was going to be held tonight. Yet now I get the impression that all of you already know each other and have been doing this together for a while. Am I starting in the middle?”
    “That’s the thing about Steve’s obedience club,” said Mark. “Once you’ve graduated from the beginner session, the classes just sort of run continuously. There’s no real beginning.”
    “And no end either,” Julie said with a smile. “We tease Steve about that all the time. There’s a core group of us—diehards, I guess you might say. Or maybe fanatics. We just keep coming back week after week. Nobody even keeps track of whether we’re starting another session or not. It’s all the same to us. All I know is, if it’s Thursday night, Jack and I are at class.”
    “But…” I sputtered, glancing down at the impeccably behaved Doberman. “What happens when you run out of things to teach him?”
    “Hasn’t happened yet. Maybe it never will. Jack got his C.D. last year, and his C.D.X. six months ago. He won all three of his Open classes and was High in Trial twice. Now we’re training toward his Utility Dog degree. I won’t compete him, though, until he’s perfect. In the meantime, we come here every week and sharpen up his skills.”
    “And to make the rest of us insanely jealous,” said Mark.
    In contrast to Jack, Mark’s short-legged Cairn wasn’t practicing his obedience at all. Instead, the smaller dog’s nose was still to the ground, his thoughts clearly centered on the enticing smells in the yard. Every so often he’d stop walking to sniff at something, and Mark would have to snap the leash to get his attention.
    “Reggie, behave!” he said with exasperation on the third such occasion. Unrepentant, the little terrier simply lifted his head and scurried to catch up.
    “How long have you been coming to class?” I asked.
    “At least as long as those two.” Mark nodded toward Julie and Jack. “Quite possibly longer. Actually, I think I’m in denial about the whole thing. I’ve simply blocked the timetable from memory.”
    “And is Reggie progressing?”
    “In a manner of speaking. At least he has his C.D. now, though it took us nearly a dozen tries and we just squeaked through by the skin of our teeth.” Mark lowered his voice and added confidentially, “Training a terrier is different, you know. It’s not anything like working with a Dobie or a Poodle.”
    “That’s what Mark would like you to believe anyway,” said Julie. She’d reached the door and pulled it open. “Another