A Walk Along the Beach(7)

The woman screeched, but it didn’t help. Her goodies had been ripped from her hand and the dog had made it look easy.

The stray was a blur as he raced toward the beach. Usually I saw him hanging around the local pizza parlor. How he’d managed to avoid getting taken to the Humane Society before now was proof of his craftiness. This dog was street-savvy. I had to admire his ingenuity.

    Dogs were my weakness—well, other than baristas, and Willa Lakey in particular. If my career didn’t involve as much travel as it did, I would gladly have taken a dog as a pet. My life was solitary. If I wasn’t taking photos, I was spending time in front of my computer, editing my work. I would have enjoyed a canine companion.

After watching the dog’s quick moves, I felt the least I could do was see about making sure this fella found a good home. One thing was for sure, I’d need to be as cagey as he was, and that required a bit of help. Thankfully, I knew the best place to find it.

I dumped my nearly untouched Americano into the garbage and jogged over to the beach. I found evidence of what was left of the stolen breakfast. The white sack was tattered and torn, and there wasn’t a crumb left of its contents. I picked up the bag and tossed it. Glancing up and down the beach, I thought I caught a movement and saw him take off in the direction of the pizza parlor.

Getting back into my car, I drove past the back entrance of the pizza place and saw nothing. From there I went to the animal shelter. I knew Preston Young and his wife, Mellie, were big animal lovers. Mellie helped nurse sick and injured cats and dogs back to health, and Preston made sure they went to good homes.

I walked inside the shelter to a cacophony of barks and other noise. Preston was great about getting volunteers to come in and care for the animals. He had an entire crew that walked the dogs and saw that they all received an ample amount of tender loving care. He glanced up when I entered the building and greeted me with a mildly curious look. From the moment we’d met, Preston had been after me to adopt a pet.

“Hey, Sean, good to see you.”

I nodded. “You, too. I got a stray for you.”

    “With you?”

“Nope. This dog is smart. I’ve seen him around town a few times. Watched him snatch a woman’s breakfast right out of her hand this morning.”

“Brown, long hair, medium size, and on the thin side?”

Apparently, I wasn’t the only one who’d noticed the stray. “You talking about the dog or the woman?” I joked.

“Funny.” Preston had a quirky sense of humor. “The dog.

“I’ve been hearing about him,” Preston continued, grinning. “Keaton had a run-in with him last week.” His smile grew bigger. “The stray got one of his sandwiches right out of his lunch box. Clever, too. He managed to figure out how to open his container. He left the peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwich for Keaton and took the homemade meatloaf sandwich that Annie made him. Keaton was madder than a hornet.”

I couldn’t keep from smiling myself. This was one smart dog. “I saw him around the back of the pizza parlor and think that might be where he’s holed up. There’s a spot behind the dumpster that would be a perfect hiding place.”

“I’ll check it out.”

“You want company?”

“Wouldn’t hurt. I’ll give you a call later when I’m ready to head over.”

“Do that.”

Preston held his look. “A dog that smart could use a good home, you know. Seeing that you’ve taken an interest in him, you might consider keeping him for yourself. It’s clear he doesn’t belong to anyone. Mellie can check him out for you and make sure he’s healthy.”

I was sorely tempted and sadly shook my head. “I’m waiting on an assignment. Wouldn’t be fair to give him a home and then abandon him for a few weeks.”

    “Last I heard you were waiting for an assignment and that was over a month ago. How much longer do you have to wait?”

“Don’t know. I’ve taken a few smaller jobs that require a bit of travel, but I can drive to those.”

“Take him with you.”

I rubbed the side of my face, considering it. “On second thought, maybe I could take him in.” The dog reminded me a bit of myself, not that I’d ever been homeless. When my baseball career ended, I’d been at a loss about what to do with the rest of my life. I floundered for a bit, paralyzed about facing a future that didn’t include baseball. I’d lived and breathed the sport from the time I was five years old and started playing T-ball with my dad as my coach. Briefly, I considered taking a position as a high school coach, but that meant returning to college. The appeal wasn’t there.

“First let’s see if we can catch him,” I said, forcefully turning my thoughts away from what I’d lost. If and when we managed to capture the dog, I would make that decision.

“Sounds good. I’ll give you a call later this afternoon.”

“I’ll wait to hear from you.”

I left shortly thereafter and returned to the house. The more I thought about bringing home the stray, the stronger the appeal grew. When I did travel, and there were times when I was away three to four weeks at a stretch, I’d need to figure out what to do with him. Before I could leave, I’d need to make sure the dog understood that this was his home and he belonged to me. That might not be an easy task, especially since it was clear he’d been on his own for a good long while.