Mister Moneybags(19)

My greyhound was a three-year-old named Bandit. Suzette informed me that Bandit had torn his cruciate ligament during a race and, although he was perfectly fine as a pet, he was no longer a contender when it came to dog racing. As such, his owner was going to put him down—hence how he came to be at Forever Grey.

After my hour-long training was complete, Bandit and I took a walk on our own. There was a small, local park two blocks away that allowed dogs, so we set off—me ahead of my short-leashed, canine companion. When we got there, even though the sun was already setting, it was still hot and humid. Bandit looked like he needed a break so I took a seat on a park bench. My trusty companion took a seat, too, only he faced my way and stared straight at me.

“What’s the matter, buddy? I don’t have any more treats for you.”

The dog cocked his head and continued to stare at me.

I leaned forward and scratched his head. “You want me to pet you?”

When he inched closer to me and made a sound that sounded an awful lot like a purr, I took that to mean I was doing the right thing. Using both hands, I dug my fingers behind his ears and scratched. As he sat, one of his hind legs began to move in unison with the rhythm of my scratching. “You like that, huh.” I got a kick out of watching his leg slow with the speed of my scratch, then speeding up again when I did. At one point, he suddenly jarred forward and began to lick my face.

“Guess this is as good as it gets. You’re a smart dog, you know that?”

Bandit licked my face again as if to tell me he agreed with my assessment.

“Tell me, if you’re so smart, what makes Bianca tick? Because I can’t for the life of me figure that one out. Maybe you’ve even met her? Long legs, caramel eyes, comes around on Sundays. Smells damn incredible. You’d notice her, buddy. Trust me.”

I was acting pretty nutty lately, although I wasn’t really expecting an answer. But one came; only it wasn’t Bandit that spoke.

“Got yourself in a pickle, huh?” An old lady sat down on the bench next to me. She had a head full of rollers covered by a bright, multi-colored scarf and was wearing a hot pink smock. In her hand was a bag full of birdseed, which gave me caution.

“You’re not going to feed the birds right now, are you?”

“I’ll wait until there aren’t any more dogs left in the park.” She lifted her chin toward Bandit. “From the conversation you were just having with him, it sounds like you’re already in hot water. Don’t need me calling the pigeons over for your dog to try to chase.”

I nodded. “Thank you.”

“So what did you do, anyway?”

“Pardon?”

“I don’t walk as fast as I used to. Heard you telling the pooch you couldn’t figure someone named Bianca out.”

I sighed. “It’s a long story.”

“Not much I can offer these days except my time. Try me.”

I didn’t generally talk to strangers. Certainly, I didn’t tell them problems with my love life. But, hey…why not? I was batshit crazy these days anyway. This was par for the course.

“I’ll give you the short version. Met a woman—lied to her. One lie turned into two—which now seems to have snowballed out of control.”

The woman shook her head, tsking. “Since you seem to care about her finding out, I take it you like this lady?”

“I do.”

“Whatever it is, you need to come clean. Better to be slapped with the truth, then kissed with a lie.”

My shoulders slumped. That’s exactly what I’d done. Kissed her with a lie, both in the literal and figurative sense. “The funny thing is, I lied because I thought I needed to lie for her to give me a shot. But in the end, she was getting to know the real me and now that one lie is going to make her question all of the truths.”

The old woman pointed to Bandit. “Is she a dog lover like yourself?”

I was too ashamed to tell her that even my dog walking stint was part of my lie. “She is.”

“That’s good. I have six dogs and two cats. Leave them home when I come to feed the pigeons each night. Animal lovers like us are a different breed. I always say, look at how a person treats an animal to know what’s in their heart. If she’s an animal lover, she already knows how to love unconditionally—it’s likely she has a good spirit and has it in her to forgive an old dog like yourself for making a mistake.”

“You think?”

“I was married for forty-three years. But when I first met my Walter, God rest his soul, he hit the sauce a little too hard one night and kissed a pretty bar maid.”

“And you forgave him?”

“Hell no. I dumped his ass. Made him grovel for a good month, went out on a date with a guy I knew he didn’t like and made sure he knew about it. But in the end—I hated the sin—but really missed the sinner.”

I laughed. “Thanks for the advice. I think.”

Since I’d kept Bandit out long enough, we said goodbye to the old lady and walked back to Forever Grey. Suzette was waiting in the lobby.

“I saw you coming up the street. You two seemed to have hit it off.”

“We did, didn’t we?” I leaned down and gave the dog one last pet.

“Will you be able to donate some time to dog walk each week? We can try to put you with Bandit if you’ve bonded.”