Chapter 17

The next morning, Emma was jogging through Allen Park. She was bouncing quite a bit more than she would have liked, but that was the pace set by the French Bulldog, named Sasha, whom she was running behind.

Sasha pulled hard against the six-foot leash and Emma did all she could to keep up. As she jogged she thought to herself that she would have to talk to the Sampsons (Sasha’s owners) about springing for some extra time dedicated to leash training. She finally got to take a breather when Sasha saw a pug that caught her fancy.

Sasha stopped short right in front of the pug and Emma stumbled to a halt behind her, doubled over huffing and puffing.

The guy holding the pug’s leash looked down to meet her face.

“Are you going to be ok, Miss?” he asked.

Emma nodded but was unable to answer as she recovered. She gave the guy a thumbs up.

“Here, let me get you a water,” he offered. She started to say that it wasn’t necessary, but couldn’t get the breath to do so.

There was a food truck just fifteen feet away. He and the Frenchie trotted over to it. Emma watched as he handed the vendor a couple of bucks and returned with a bottle of Aquafina. Emma was standing upright by this time and was able to talk again.

“Thank you very much,” she said, accepting the offered bottle.

As she drank, the pug sniffed Sasha’s butt. “My dog seems to have taken a fancy to yours! What’s her name?” the guy said.

“Sasha, though she’s not mine. I’m just her dog walker. I’m Emma,” she said, extending the hand not holding the leash. The guy took it and shook.

“Hi, I’m Brent.”

Brent was Emma’s height, looked to be in his late twenties, and was somewhat plain but otherwise good looking. Not overly rugged, but fit. He had glasses and short brown hair. Oh, and a wedding ring, she noted.

“So what’s this little guy’s name?” Emma said, bending down to pet the pug.

“Bruiser,” Brent answered with a laugh.

“For real?” Emma asked, looking up.

“For real,” he answered. “I’m a big fan of irony.”

“Well, then ‘Hello, Bruiser’,” she said rubbing his back. He turned away from Sasha’s butt to pant at her and wag.

“So, you say you do this professionally?” Brent asked. Emma stood back up and Bruiser resumed getting to know the pretty Frenchie.

“Yes, I do dog walking and pet sitting.” She dug around in her pocket and pulled out a slightly crumpled business card.

Emma Russell Pet Services

555-423-2727

EmmaRussellPet@gmail.com

“Thank you,” Brent said, accepting the card. “I’m a fire fighter and sometimes need someone to walk or sit for Bruiser, possibly on short notice. Do you mind if I call on you sometime?”

“Not at all; I’m always looking for new clients! I do work full time and attend school as well part time, but as long as I’m available, I’m all for it,” Emma said.

“That said,” she continued, “I prefer to meet with the client first so that I can get a feel for the dog and his needs.”

“Not a problem, are you available tonight after 5 pm?” he asked.

Emma pulled out her phone and checked her calendar. Her last class was at 2 pm and she didn’t have to work at PetHub until the next day.

“Yes, that will work fine.”

“Great!” Brent said. “Here’s my address...” Emma typed it into her phone as he recited it. He gave his last name and phone number as well.

“Ok, I’ll see you then. Let’s go, Bruiser,” he said, giving the leash a tug. Bruiser clearly wasn’t happy about leaving but trudged away anyway.