Moving in Rhythm by Dev Bentham Page A

her vocabulary list, probably right next to biscuit and of far more emotional resonance than “come,” “sit” or “stay.”
    Mark dropped into a warm-up lunge. “Don’t tire yourself out. It’s a long run there.”
    Belle pawed at the ground and barked. Clearly she was ready to go.
    He laughed, stretched his other leg and began loping toward the park. Belle trotted ahead, finally falling in behind him as he got up to speed. After two days of confinement Mark reveled in the smell of damp earth and the slap of pavement beneath his feet. The day was warmer than he’d expected. After a few blocks he slipped off his jacket and tied it around his waist.
    The dog park was crowded and muddy. No doubt Belle would have a date with the garden hose before the day was out. But the sheer joy with which she leaped away to join the pack made Mark smile. He went through his post-run stretching routine, then plopped himself onto a bench, inhaling the scent of wet earth and pine. He stretched out his legs, relishing the warmth of the sun on his thighs. His sweat began to cool and he was shrugging back into his jacket when his phone rang.
    His arm caught in the sleeve and by the time he found the phone it was about to go to voicemail. Without glancing at the caller ID, he flipped it open. “Lisa?”
    “Not exactly.” Seth’s voice sent a shock of excitement through him.
    “Oh, hey,” he managed to stutter.
    “Hi. Nice dance with the jacket.”
    “What? Where are you?” Mark looked around the park.
    Seth waved to him from the farthest of the four park benches.
    He waved back. “Oh, hi.”
    Seth patted the greyhound beside him. “Freddie and I don’t have long this afternoon. We have a bunch of errands to run before class. But it’s such a beautiful day we had to stop by.”
    Mark leaned back against the bench and looked at Seth. He couldn’t make out his expression from a distance but he looked relaxed, or at least more relaxed than his dog. “Class?”
    “Yeah.” Freddie started and Seth leaned forward to stroke his neck. “I teach high school kids at the local dance academy. It’s not a bad job. Every afternoon for a few hours. Of course, it doesn’t quite pay the rent, hence my Zumba mornings.”
    “At least you get to move while you work. Sitting at a computer all day has its disadvantages.” Mark watched as another dog approached Freddie. Seth stroked and petted and made little shushing noises, finally shooing the other dog away when Freddie became too agitated.
    Seth glanced his way. “It doesn’t look like that’s a problem for you. You look good. Very good, actually.”
    Mark blushed, shifting in his seat. Something frightened Freddie and Seth wrapped a comforting arm around him. Mark said, “That’s a high-maintenance dog you have. You seem to be good with him, though.”
    Seth chuckled. “High-maintenance, that’s a good word for it.”
    “So why do you do it? I mean, it’s great you’re rescuing him and all but, um, doesn’t it take a lot of extra energy?”
    Mark could barely make out Seth’s shrug. “I guess. I’m used to it by now. Fred Astaire is my fifth track rescue. My ex and I always had at least three. When we broke up he kept Lord Byron and Errol Flynn. I took Oscar Wilde. Oscar died of bone cancer over the winter so I adopted Freddie. It took him a few weeks to adjust to me and to living in a house, not a kennel. Now we’re working on socialization.” He stroked Freddie’s neck and back. “The thing about rescue animals is that even though it’s so much work, it’s really worth it because you end up with such a strong bond.”
    Mark glanced at Belle, who was play crouching before a full-size poodle. “I think I can see that. All my best friends have been dogs.”
    Seth paused. “Dogs are good. They’re loyal. That’s important to me.”
    Good to know. Mark cleared his throat. “Still, working with emotionally damaged dogs must be difficult, especially when you could so