thirteen years old.
"Some people do change," Sam said, and she realized he was responding to her comment of moments before. "But this one'll have to prove it by me if he has."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
CHAPTER 7 PERTH A Secret Matter Brenna glanced at the clock as she plunked a hyperactive Westie into the tub and slipped the tub noose around his neck, her fingers automatically adjusting it to fit. Good thing she had extra time for this bath; the dog, a new customer, was actively uncooperative and had a bite or two lurking behind the frenetic look in his eye. He was the last of a long string of morning baths for which she'd stuck Druid in the corner on a towel with a fresh shank bone, jammed foam plugs in her ears to filter out the dryers and the barking dogs, and gone into bathing mode. Bathing mode...zoned out, her body hard at work while her mind wandered off to focus on other things.
Other things, like Rob Parker at her spring—she'd found his footprints the day before—and the fact that although random victims of the dog pack kept showing up, Masera-the-trainer had been right—no one had yet actually seen the dogs. Besides which, dog packs composed of local pets and cast-offs tended to form around a bitch in heat, and to break up afterward. By now, the pack members should have been peeling away, returning home, getting caught, or wandering off on their solitary journey.
More other things , like the argument she'd witnessed in the doorway to the stockroom when she'd gone back to clock in and hang her coat—Masera and Mickey, one of the stockboys. It had been a real argument, too, low and intense and the look in Mickey's eyes surpassing resentment.
What would Masera and Mickey even have to talk about, never mind argue over?
And you'd think Masera would lay off the arguments for a while, considering that he still sported the fading bruises from the last one he'd been in.
She splashed the gentle shower of water against her wrist, checking the temp, and wet down the dog's legs—giving her instant cause for thanks that the zen bathing-state left her reflexes not only unimpeded, but faster than any conscious reaction. Cursing a terrier streak, the Westie snapped for the hand holding the nozzle, falling short only because she snatched a hind leg with the other hand and jerked him back.
Ah- ha . So that's the way it was going to be. No wonder these people had come all the way from the other side of the city for this appointment.
They'd already used up the patience of all the more convenient groomers.
The bellowing treatment wouldn't work for this one; nor would a good shake. Not with the shining intent in his round black eyes, or the instantaneous way he'd reacted to the water. Holding him stretched against the noose so he couldn't whip around and nail her, Brenna fumbled at the shelves behind the retaining wall at the foot of the tub, searching blindly for the muzzles. They came out in a clump, and she shook them until only the medium-small remained.
The dog complained endlessly about the water running around his toes, snapping repeatedly at the only thing he could reach—empty air. Druid, recognizing the threat as different from the mindless noise of the crated dogs, barked sharply in warning. Brenna sighed—a moment ago she couldn't have imagined intensifying the chaos—and stuck the muzzle strap between her front teeth so she could size it up with her one free hand.
That, of course, was when Masera walked in. Masera, who had already made disparaging remarks about her professional techniques. Masera-the-trainer, who didn't think much of the way she handled dogs.
The Westie snarled at him , too.
But though he looked momentarily bemused by the turmoil, Masera didn't react to the sights and sounds before him. He just stood there, waiting for
"Some people do change," Sam said, and she realized he was responding to her comment of moments before. "But this one'll have to prove it by me if he has."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
CHAPTER 7 PERTH A Secret Matter Brenna glanced at the clock as she plunked a hyperactive Westie into the tub and slipped the tub noose around his neck, her fingers automatically adjusting it to fit. Good thing she had extra time for this bath; the dog, a new customer, was actively uncooperative and had a bite or two lurking behind the frenetic look in his eye. He was the last of a long string of morning baths for which she'd stuck Druid in the corner on a towel with a fresh shank bone, jammed foam plugs in her ears to filter out the dryers and the barking dogs, and gone into bathing mode. Bathing mode...zoned out, her body hard at work while her mind wandered off to focus on other things.
Other things, like Rob Parker at her spring—she'd found his footprints the day before—and the fact that although random victims of the dog pack kept showing up, Masera-the-trainer had been right—no one had yet actually seen the dogs. Besides which, dog packs composed of local pets and cast-offs tended to form around a bitch in heat, and to break up afterward. By now, the pack members should have been peeling away, returning home, getting caught, or wandering off on their solitary journey.
More other things , like the argument she'd witnessed in the doorway to the stockroom when she'd gone back to clock in and hang her coat—Masera and Mickey, one of the stockboys. It had been a real argument, too, low and intense and the look in Mickey's eyes surpassing resentment.
What would Masera and Mickey even have to talk about, never mind argue over?
And you'd think Masera would lay off the arguments for a while, considering that he still sported the fading bruises from the last one he'd been in.
She splashed the gentle shower of water against her wrist, checking the temp, and wet down the dog's legs—giving her instant cause for thanks that the zen bathing-state left her reflexes not only unimpeded, but faster than any conscious reaction. Cursing a terrier streak, the Westie snapped for the hand holding the nozzle, falling short only because she snatched a hind leg with the other hand and jerked him back.
Ah- ha . So that's the way it was going to be. No wonder these people had come all the way from the other side of the city for this appointment.
They'd already used up the patience of all the more convenient groomers.
The bellowing treatment wouldn't work for this one; nor would a good shake. Not with the shining intent in his round black eyes, or the instantaneous way he'd reacted to the water. Holding him stretched against the noose so he couldn't whip around and nail her, Brenna fumbled at the shelves behind the retaining wall at the foot of the tub, searching blindly for the muzzles. They came out in a clump, and she shook them until only the medium-small remained.
The dog complained endlessly about the water running around his toes, snapping repeatedly at the only thing he could reach—empty air. Druid, recognizing the threat as different from the mindless noise of the crated dogs, barked sharply in warning. Brenna sighed—a moment ago she couldn't have imagined intensifying the chaos—and stuck the muzzle strap between her front teeth so she could size it up with her one free hand.
That, of course, was when Masera walked in. Masera, who had already made disparaging remarks about her professional techniques. Masera-the-trainer, who didn't think much of the way she handled dogs.
The Westie snarled at him , too.
But though he looked momentarily bemused by the turmoil, Masera didn't react to the sights and sounds before him. He just stood there, waiting for
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