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Van didn’t wait for whatever word could describe the pregnant canine help-ee of a human birthing helper. He grabbed Joe’s arm and dragged him out to the doghouse.
Joe got down on all fours and stuck his head through the entrance. His voice was muffled as it carried back to his anxious entourage. “This will be a tight squeeze, a very tight squeeze. I have to get Lancelot out of here.”
Joe stretched himself out on the ground and twisted his body into contortions. “This young fellow doesn’t want to come out,” Joe mumbled, breathless already. “Help me. I’ve had him by the scruff of the neck, but he keeps wiggling free. I’m not going to be able to drag him all the way out before he scrambles back in. Can you catch him if I toss him your way?”
“Maybe. Let’s give it a try.”
Van crouched into a football stance. “Ready.”
Joe grabbed. He rolled onto his stomach, jack-knifed and threw one unhappy Basset Hound in Van’s direction.
Van caught. He stood straight, holding Lancelot triumphantly in his arms.
Lancelotwiggled.Hehowled.Hefinallyanchoreda paw on Van’s chest and powered his way back down toward Joe. Joe howled too. He rolled onto his stomach in semi-panic to shield himself from Lancelot landing where Joe would least want anything of considerable weight to land.
Lancelot touched down instead on Joe’s bottom. It made a fine launching pad to scamper up the man’s body and use his head as a push-off point to power a spring back inside the doghouse.
“Ow,” Joe said. “Get his leash. We’ll pull him out of there with that.”
Marylookeddownatthedoghouseandconsidered the order.
One roly-poly doctor was already stretched out on the ground and peering inside. His long and lanky friend got down on his hands and knees and tried to shoulder the doctor aside to get a look inside the doghouse. There was a lot of doctor to shoulder, though.
Maryfrowned.Theythoughttheyhadbetterthings to do than fetch a leash. They expected her to do it. Without even asking. She didn’t have to like it, but she’d do it.
By the time she got back, the shouldering had turned into a shoving match. The two men looked as though they’d rear up to their feet any minute and throw punches.
“Stop it. Both of you.”
They didn’t.
“Stand up,” she barked, “or I’ll lock both of you in the garage and neither of you will see what’s going on.”
They stilled like little boys who thought they’d be invisible if they didn’t move.
“I said stand up,” Mary ordered.
They stood.
Mary swung her arm toward two lawn chairs a few feet away. “Sit.”
They sat.
“Stay.”
They looked at each other.
Mary hunkered down and reached inside the doghouse. On the fourth try, she snagged Lancelot’s collar and pulled the unhappy fellow far enough out to snap on the leash and drag him the rest of the way. It probably helped that Lancelot, consummate gentleman that he was, couldn’t fight against a lady as hard as he’d resisted Joe.
Mary hugged the dog. “Ah, Lancelot, I know, you want to help your lady love. But honey, I promise you, the best thing you can do for her is stay out of the way for now.”
She straightened. She eyed Van, whose miserable, panicked expression bore an uncanny resemblance to Lancelot’s.
“Here.” She thrust the leash into Van’s hands. “Make yourself useful keeping Lancelot calmed down.Goputyourselvesinmystudyanddon’tcome out until I say you can, or I swear, I’ll lock you in.”
Van and Lancelot tried backing out of her line of sight. Mary just turned her head and gave them The Look. Man and dog slunk away.
Joe kneeled at the door to the doghouse and stuck his head inside again.
