Page 20 of Death on Gallows Path

As for the dogs, they were extremely interested in me.

Even Gracie was more attentive than usual, despite having hours and hours to sniff my outfit for traces of other dogs, not to mention being on hand when I’d encountered those dogs.

I fully acknowledge her interest most likely resulted from failing to feed her, combined with treats secreted about my person.

I suspected starving your dog was not a recommended training method, but it did improve her focus.

We went through drills for sit and lie down with the dogs in front of their beds.

A note here. Many people say lay down. Gracie does not respond to that, because she is a grammatically correct dog and knows it’s lie down, because she’s doing the action, not being acted on. Either that or she’s accustomed to me saying lie down. And doesn’t recognize the sound of lay down.

Gracie, perhaps thanks to the aforementioned inadvertent strategy that made her super interested in treats, was nothing short of spectacular.

The other dogs improved, too. Except the Bostons.

If there’s a contest for how many times a human can say sit in ninety seconds without a dog complying, Berrie Vittlow would win. Sitsitsitsitsitsitsitsitsitsit.

Heck, a few other dogs, released from their owner-induced sits, sat again for one of the dozens of sits Berrie spit out like a machine gun. Though they looked confused when the command kept coming after they’d sat . . . except for the two Bostons, who wandered, crossed their leashes, huff-barked at other dogs, and otherwise ignored Berrie.

Had to admit I experienced schadenfreude at Berrie’s performance. The Germans nailed it that some people’s failure could provide a bit of pleasure.

For me, the schadenfreude was because Berrie arrogantly dispensed unwelcome critiques to others.

What took shine off the schadenfreude was, even now, she appeared to have no clue that she’d failed.

As the machine-gun sits resumed, Gracie looked up at me with a question in her eyes. I said, “You’re fine.” And she remained standing, ignoring Berrie’s sit bullets.

More proof I have a discerning dog.

Leo moved in, took one of the leashes from Berrie. “If your dog doesn’t obey, give a correction. A quick pop of the leash, to get their attention.” To the dog, he said, calmly and clearly, “Sit.”

The dog sat.

So did the other Boston terrier.

The rest of us bit the insides of our cheeks to keep from laughing.

Except the two couples I thought of as the Gang of Four.

I easily remembered their dogs’ names — Lucifer and Izolde. It took a second to reapply Damon and Pammy Swindell and Bryon and Zoley Georger to the humans.

Again, the women sat next to each other. Their dogs bracketed them. The men sat beyond the dogs, maximizing the distance between them without interrupting the Gang of Four’s lineup. The men capped the implication of coolness by looking in opposite directions.

The bloom appeared to be off that friendship rose.

While Leo worked first one of the Bostons, then the other, Berrie watched, standing with arms crossed and lips pursed, blocking most of my view of the two women.

I could, however, see Zoley Georger’s outfit, a form-fitting sleeveless top over tight capris and high-heeled sandals that triggered my eye-roll reflex.

Possibly, to some infinitesimal degree, I reacted from insecurity aroused by my dog park attire.

But even for a non-writer, her outfit was over the top and way early in the season. Especially for our current chilly spell.

Barricade Berrie stepped forward to take a leash back from Leo.

Before I could shift attention to what would happen with the Boston, my gaze focused on Zoley, abruptly unshadowed by Berrie.

From the low neckline of her top, my gaze rose to her face. And stopped.