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Doggy Style

KENSINGTON PUBLISHING CORP.

Chapter One

As for the general population, well, they had fooled themselves into thinking they had something to offer. They pulled every trick imaginable to get attention. They barked. They yapped. They howled. They jumped up and down. All this cutesy take-me-take-me bullshit. Sure, once in a while, a dog got lucky and earned his freedom. But, let's face it-the odds were not exactly in your favor.

It was obvious a nap just wasn't going to happen with all this commotion, so, for lack of anything better to do, I decided to check out the Fresh Meat slowly making their way down the hall.

Jen was petite and quite bubbly, rather like a Yorkshire terrier. Bob had a chiseled jaw, and a very straight, self-assured stance. Rather like a boxer. Only his ears weren't clipped. I figured them both to be on the later side of six dog years. Certainly not pups, but far from washed up.

Jen and Bob spent a few token moments with each inmate -the basset hound with gas problems, the cockeyed, prissy toy poodle, the psycho pit bull twins, the German shepherd mix with the mange, the deaf dalmatian-and then moved on, leavingeach poor schmuck's hopes for a ticket out of the Joint smashed.

Typical.

I'd seen their kind before. They didn't really want a dog, they just wanted to mess with his mind.

Next thing I knew, the couple was standing in front of my cage. I figured if I lay there like a melted turd, they'd take one look at my mug and split. Instead, Jen took several steps closer. She gazed at me with these deep-set eyes, head slightly tilted to one side, hand resting on her cheek.

"Well, hello," she said, smiling this warm, toothy grin.

Was that cheese I smelled on her breath?

"Aren't you a little cutie-pie!"

My tail-which, like another part of my body, always seemed to have a mind of its own-began to slowly swish from side to side in response to her compliment.

Bob gave me the once-over. "He's way too small, Jen. My last dog, Bill, used to take dumps bigger than him."

"But I thought size isn't supposed to matter."

Bob laughed. "As far as the bedroom goes, no, it doesn't. But with dogs, it's another story. A dog just doesn't seem like a dog unless he's a certain size."

Sure, I thought, maybe I wasn't tall enough to reach his nose, but I could still just as easily sink my teeth into this joker's foot!

Jen blew air out of her mouth. "Do you realize you've found something wrong with every dog we've looked at? I think the idea of us owning a pet together, as a couple, represents a degree of commitment you obviously aren't ready for yet."

"It's got nothing to do with that, honey. I'm just being cautious. Adopting a shelter dog can be a risky business."

"But isn't everything in life a big gamble? Relationships, especially? "

"Yeah, but we still don't want to make some impulsive choice we may later regret," said Bob.

You didn't have to be a canine genius to realize this guy intended to take his business elsewhere. I rose from my ratty pillow -fed up with all this bullshit-and was about to retreat to the farthest corner of my cage when the door to the Joint opened.

It was the Warden. I recognized her scent immediately, and let's just say this broad never smelled like fresh-baked cookies.

"Be quiet!" she screamed at the general population. "Shhhh! Enough! I said, enough!"

All jaws instantly snapped shut as the Warden clip-clopped over to my cage. "Hi there," she said. "My name is Mrs. Conklin. I see you've met our Miles."

My ears perked up and my back straightened. I'd lived with this new name long enough to instinctively respond to it.

"You mean, Miles, as in Davis?" Bob asked, his eyes widening.

"Yes, actually," said the Warden. "I'm a huge fan."

"Bob is, too. See, honey? It's a sign."

"Let's not jump to clairvoyant conclusions, Jen. We still know nothing about this dog."

The Warden, of course, took this opportunity to launch into her standard sales pitch. Translation: a bunch of bullshit.

"... and Miles is well-behaved, housebroken, and, like all of our intakes here at the ASPCA, has been fixed."

I didn't realize I was ever broken, so why did they fix me?

"He is also a very smart dog," the Warden continued. "However, I feel obligated to tell you, Miles doesn't warm up to many people. Trust issues, no doubt."

"Hey, this is New York," said Jen, coming to my defense. "We all have trust issues."

"Can't argue with that point," said the Warden, pursing her lips. "Don't even get me started on my ex-husband."

Jen gave Bob a look I couldn't translate, and he in turn grimaced, like his balls were twisted in a knot or something.

"Moving right along-is it possible that Miles might have been abused?"

"Afraid so," said the Warden. "He was found several months ago in the Bronx. Poor thing was cowering in the doorway of a condemned building. Pretty rough shape. Had a sore leg. Scared out of his wits. We had quite a time rounding him up."

Bob's face fell. "How could anyone just abandon an animal like that? Worse yet, in the dead of winter."

Having lived through every dog's nightmare, I shivered at the mere mention of that word, abandon.

The Warden sighed. "Unfortunately, this sort of thing happens all the time. Despite our efforts to rescue them, over forty thousand pets are still put down each year in the city."

"See?" said Jen. "This is precisely the reason why we shouldn't buy, and should adopt a dog. I know you've always had pedigrees and all, but don't you think it's time to give the less fortunate fellows a chance?"

Damn straight it was!

Bob ran his fingers through his hair several times, then pulled at his chin. "Any idea as to what Miles may be a mix of?"

The Warden scrunched up her forehead and scanned me up, down, and sideways. "He certainly has the big ears and eyes of a Chihuahua ..."

My mother.

"He's also very long in the body, with those short legs, characteristic of a Dachshund."

My father. Never knew the bastard. But from what I figured, it was a hit-and-run romance.

"With all that black on his snout, he kind of reminds you of a German shepherd. But then he's got the curly, white-tipped tail of a basenji. With a little fox terrier thrown in, perhaps. Or maybe corgi. The dog's certainly unusual looking ..." Translation: one ugly motherfucker.

"Well," said Jen. "I happen to think Miles is very handsome."

Now I'd been called many things, but never in my short life had I been referred to as "handsome." The question remained-was Jen trying to suck up to me, or was she actually being sincere?

Jen extended her hand just inside the bars of my cage. I cautiously walked up to her, and gave her fingers a good sniff-sweet-and ran my tongue over her damp palm-salty.

"That tickles," she giggled, rubbing the back of my neck. "I bet you'd like to get out of this crummy joint, wouldn't you?"

You have no idea, lady, I thought.

And it was now up to me to show her exactly how much. The moment the Warden opened my cage, I practically leapt into Jen's arms. Squealing with delight, she hugged me close. I slithered my way over her surprisingly big teats and up to her mouth, which I passionately slathered.

Did I, an all-time loser, actually have a shot at winning myself a new family? A new home? A new life? My heart began to beat so loudly, I was worried everybody in the Joint could hear it.

Jen passed me over to Bob. "Here, I think someone else needs some loving, too."

At first I hesitated, only because I had never kissed a man before. Not that there was anything wrong with that. But somehow I knew that if I didn't fork over the goods, my one chance to win this guy over to my side would be blown. I threw caution to the hounds and quickly ran my tongue across the guy's scratchy chin. To my surprise, I actually liked his musky taste. One kiss led to several others until his face was soaking wet.

"Never would've pegged him for such an affectionate pooch," Bob said. "I had this standard poodle when I was first married to Kathy. Really smart, but she never gave you more than a peck-once every other month."

"Are you referring to the poodle or to Kathy?"

Bob turned to me. "That's my Jen. She can be quite a wiseass, but I'm completely crazy for the woman."

And in my brief time with her, I could see why.

Meanwhile, the Warden, whose head had been temporarily (unfortunately, not permanently) buried in her clipboard, perked up.

"Ms. Levy, I see here on your application, you've never owned a dog."

"Only because my mother was very allergic, and then my ex-husband, well, he didn't care for animals. My daughter, Mia, just never seemed interested. She was too busy with school and friends and stuff. And I was working full time. I've always really loved dogs, though. Always wanted one. And Bob, well, he's owned several."

"I see. So you two are living together?"

"Not completely. I mean, we do and we don't. We spend most of the time with each other. I mean, he has a loft downtown, but he's hardly ever there. You see, Bob is in the middle of his divorce-well, no, that's not entirely true. He's technically in the middle of his separation, because the papers haven't been signed yet. They're still working out all the details, and it's taking forever and-"

"Jen, honey, don't you think this is a little more information than Ms. Conklin needs to know?"

In response, the Warden yawned, opening her mouth so wide you could crawl inside and still have room for company.

"Excuse me. Long day. Listen, I hate to pressure you both about making a decision about adopting Miles, but the kennel is closing in ten minutes."

I waited for somebody, anyone, to speak, but nobody uttered a single word. Translation: this was not a good sign.

Jen's face fell. She chewed on her lower lip. "I'm afraid the truth is ..."

My stomach tightened.

"... we just happened to be in the neighborhood, and I talked my boyfriend into coming in to do some, well, you know, window shopping. We really hadn't intended to find a dog so soon. Certainly not today ..."

Certainly not today.

Certainly not today.

Certainly not today.

Certainly not today.

Those words echoed in my head all through the night, as this all-time loser lay there in his cage. Falling in and out of sleep.

The next morning, I awoke, depressed, and in a really vile mood. I couldn't believe that a dog like me, who was supposed to have known better, could have fallen so easily under Jen and Bob's spell. To have fallen for their bullshit.

They needed more time to think this adoption thing through, he had said.

They promised to be back, she had said.

The truth was I'd been abandoned. Let down. Tossed aside like some bone after it had been picked dry.

But I was dead wrong, because Jen and Bob returned. I was so excited to see them, I took a flying leap and almost plastered myself on the bars of my cage.

Later, with my new family in tow, I ran, not walked, out of the Joint, never once stopping or looking back until we hit the pavement.

And then I froze.

Not from the cold. But from pure, subzero terror.

It was waiting for me.

Parked across the street.

Grinding its rotten teeth together.

The stench of its breath quickly filled my nostrils.

And then I remembered what I had tried so hard to forget.

Mary, lying on the floor in a pool of blood. The old woman's eyes open, yet blank. Her skin as white as her hair. I licked her face. It felt cold against my tongue. I nudged her with my snout, but she didn't move.

I barked at him over and over.

WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO MY MARY? WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO MY MISTRESS?

The Stranger raised his knife, taunted me with it.

Shut your fucking trap up or else, he growled. Or I'll shut it for you!

But I wouldn't listen.

So he lunged for me. And missed.

COME BACK HERE, YOU LITTLE COCKSUCKER!

I jumped through the open window of our basement apartment, landing in the alley.

Just as the garbage truck barreled toward me....

And just like that, freedom didn't smell so sweet anymore.

I looked at the couple and promptly turned on my paws.

Sorry, but no can do.

"Where are you going, buddy?" asked Bob.

Back to the Joint. Back to my crappy little cell. Back behind the bars which separated him from me.

Jen gently tugged at my leash. I still wouldn't budge. She lifted me into her arms.

"Why are you trembling, sweetie?"

Because if you knew what I knew, you'd be shivering in your shoes, too!

Bob rightly figured that a leisurely stroll was, at this point in time, completely out of the question, so he "hailed a cab." I'd never ridden in a car, let alone been in a "cab" before, so I didn't know if this was a good or bad idea. The driver, however, had a very definite opinion on the subject. He was worried that I would "pee, shit, or make vomit" on his "new leather seats," so he suggested "alternative transportation." Translation: get yourself another taxi!

Which was exactly what we did.

Jen held me on her lap while we sped off down the street. Neither that garbage truck nor the Stranger could ever catch me now. After being a twisted knot of nerves before, I now felt I could relax. I looked out the window as we wove in and out of the traffic. Nothing and nobody looked familiar in this 'hood. Not the buildings. Not the people. I had no clue where we were headed, but I had the feeling it was in the right direction. I wasn't so sure, however, about my newly adopted parents.

"Argh. Who on earth taught this guy to drive," whispered Jen, dropping her head onto Bob's shoulder. "Stevie Wonder?"

"Tell me about it. My stomach just did a triple somersault with a half gainer."

"And to think that other driver was worried about the dog puking."

They both groaned as if one.

I didn't get what all the fuss was about. This dog had no reason to barf. This dog was really enjoying the ride.

Anyway, many more blocks and complaints later, the car pulled over to a curb. Bob climbed out, and Jen followed. As for me, I refused to budge, preferring to stay put where it was safe and warm.

"There's nothing to fear on the Upper East Side, silly," said Jen.

"Unless you venture into a singles' bar on a Thursday night," piped in Bob.

"Or, I guess, for that matter, try to block a woman from getting into Bergdorf's for their semiannual shoe sale."

Needless to say, this dog didn't get the joke.

Apparently, neither did the cabdriver, who began to honk his horn.

"I'm not having all day here, you know!"

"Come on, sweetie."

Jen reached inside the cab, but I backed away.

"Don't you want to see your new home?"

The truth was, I did. Very much.

The cabdriver beeped his horn again.

"Miles, please," she whined. "Seriously, we have to go."

Bob wagged his finger at me. "Buddy, I gotta tell you," he said in a voice that meant business. "This kind of behavior ain't going to fly." Translation: if I didn't get my shit together right then and there, I might very well be heading back to the Joint.

So I took a big breath and dived into the next phase of my doggy life.

Chapter Two

Moving in with Jen and Bob had been a no-brainer. I mean, what was not to like? Making sure my lease didn't expire, however, involved some serious smarts.

Right from the start, Bob made it clear that he was the Top Dog of our pack, and his kind but firm ways earned my respect. Naturally, he expected me to follow his rules, and I made every effort to do just that. When he said, "No," he meant no. When he said, "Sit," I sat. When he said, "No begging," he meant no begging. Treats were to be earned, not given away. People food was meant for, well, you know, people.

(Continues...)

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Excerpted from Doggy Style by JANE MAY Copyright © 2006 by Jane May Moss. Excerpted by permission.
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