Chapter 13

Tuesday, evening, 11th Sept {Bob}

I called in an order of practically everything to The Golden Wok. They run a buffet line, so it was ready when I got there ten minutes later. I had time to artfully arrange the cardboard and Styrofoam containers on the table before it became clear Chris had arrived. Bandit came crashing through the doggy door and was prancing around by the front door by the time I got there. Sometimes he could fool you into believing he was a smart dog.

I opened the door and there was her smiling face. I felt that smile below my belt and silently admonished the unruly friend in my pants to lie low tonight.

"When pigs fly," he spat back, trying to lift his head. "I like this one!"

"Hi," I said, trying to ignore my penis.

"Hey!" she said brightly. She turned to her right. I couldn't see him, but of course I knew her father was there. "Bob, this is my father, Beelzebub Calamity Frostbite the Fourteenth. Daddy, this is Bob Randall, my new friend. We met because of his dog, Bandit."

Said dog, tired of being ignored, pretended to recognize his name and barked madly while I said, "Come in, come in!" and then, "Bandit, shut up!" followed by a hasty, "He won't hurt you. He's just glad to see Chris."

The object of Bandit's adoration stepped into the house and I held out a hand to Mr. Bryant, trying to shake his hand as he came in the door. His grip was sturdy and warm.

"Hey, Bandit!" Chris cooed. "Are you really glad to see me?"

He jumped up wiggling all over, and leaving absolutely no doubt that she had made his day just by existing in this part of the world.

"Down!" she said sternly. When he fell to the floor it was like he'd landed on Velcro. He stuck solid with his paws out in front of him, lying down on his stomach, wagging his tail.

"Good boy," she said, bending over slightly. He barked once, like he was saying "You betcha!"

"I thought you said he couldn't do anything," she said.

"He can't," I said. "I have no idea why he did that. He's never done it before." I looked at Dave, who was looking at Bandit. I shrugged my shoulders anyway, for some obtuse reason.

She looked down at him. "Stay!" she said firmly, and walked away. He looked over his shoulder at her, but stayed right there.

"Okay, come!" she said.

He hopped up and practically flew to her, jumping up again.

"Bandit!" she said, with warning in her voice.

He sat right in front of her. His tail didn't move an inch. It was like he was frozen.

"Down," she said. He went down.

She looked at me suspiciously.

"I swear!" I pleaded. "I've never seen him do any of that."

"Roll over," she said. Damned if that dog didn't do a complete sideways somersault.

"This is crazy," I said. It was obvious she thought I was pulling something, and her father would too. "I've never been able to get him to do anything at all!"

"Tell him to roll over," she said. She stepped back.

I leaned over. "Bandit, roll over," I said.

He sat there. His tongue lolled out of the side of his mouth.

"Stay!" I said firmly, and walked away. He sat there, but that didn't prove anything. After all, Chris was right beside him.

"Call him," said Mr. Bryant. It never occurred to me to wonder why the man felt like he could order me around within fifteen seconds of meeting me.

"Come here, Bandit," I said sternly.

"Just use the word come, said the professional dog trainer in the room.

"Come!" I said. Bandit just sat there. He looked up at Chris and his tail gave a single wag, as if he was saying, "Get a load of this loser. He thinks I'll do stuff for him. Hilarious, right?"

"Go on," said Chris softly. Bandit wagged his tail again, but didn't move. She pointed and this time said "Go!" firmly. Bandit popped up, trotted to the side of Mr. Bryant opposite me, and sat down. He looked bored.

"You rescued this dog?" asked Mr. Bryant.

"I guess so," I sighed. "I don't know what came over me. He was sitting on the porch one day all dirty and scruffy. I told him to shoo, but he wouldn't go. When I asked around the neighborhood, nobody knew anything about him. I felt sorry for him and made the mistake of feeding him."

"I've seen this before," said the man. "It can be overcome."

"Daddy," sighed Chris. "Let's at least eat before you start talking business."

"Of course," he said, smiling widely. "Nice place," he said, looking around.

I didn't know if he was being sarcastic or not, but I gave him my standard "Thank you, Sir."

"Please," he said, grinning again. "I'm Dave."

That sort of set the mood, which was surprisingly relaxed, at least as far as I was concerned. Chris helped me get plates and silverware, which I had completely forgotten about, and Dave had poured the wine by the time we got back.

Dinner went fine, with conversation I can't remember, but know I enjoyed. Dave had a ton of stories to tell and, despite Chris telling him to wait until after we ate to discuss Bandit, he brought it up anyway.

"What happens when a stray moves into a new pack is -- he views you and him as his pack, you know -- there is an automatic attempt to establish who is the alpha male."

"That would be me, of course," I said around a mouthful of noodles.

"Yes, but from what I can see, Bandit doesn't believe that. He either thinks it hasn't been settled yet, or that he is the alpha male."

I looked down at Bandit, who was sitting patiently beside Chris, waiting for her to feed him something. She was ignoring him completely.

"For your information," I said to him, "I'm the alpha male. You're the stupid dog."

"That won't help things," said Dave, looking like he was disappointed in me. "He's not stupid, and he knows that."

"Could have fooled me," I groused. "I still can't believe he did all those things for Chris."

"Somebody trained him, sometime in the past," said Dave. "Whoever that was was the alpha male at that point in time. He's perfectly willing to perform for the boss."

"Wait a minute. Are you telling me that he thinks Chris is the alpha male? Because I'm here to tell you, there's nothing remotely male about her."

I swallowed and blinked. I'd done it again. Why couldn't I control my mouth? I expected Mushu Pork to be launched at me any second.

"Why thank you," said Chris, laughing.

"Obviously," said Dave dryly. "Let's use another term. Bandit is willing to accede that Chris is the boss."

"Oh," I said weakly. "Okay. But why?"

"He doesn't respect you," said Dave. I couldn't tell for sure, but there might have been a note of satisfaction in his voice when he said that. After all, I had just all but said I wanted to jump his daughter's bones.

"Oh," I said dismally.

"That can be fixed," said Dave, waving his chopsticks in the air. "It will take a little time, but he'll come around."

Then, quite suddenly, we were talking about something else and Bandit was no longer an issue. It was a long dinner, all things considered. If I had had two bottles of wine, we'd have drunk them. Chris offered to help me make coffee and went with me to the kitchen. Bandit started to follow us, and Dave called him. He looked around, tilted his head, and then trotted over to a complete stranger. I just shook my head.

"Why does Bandit respect everybody in the world but me?" I said in self pity.

"I think he likes you," whispered Chris.

"No he doesn't" I said. "He won't come to me, but went to your father - a complete stranger - the first time he called."

"I mean Daddy," she said, poking my arm with one finger. "I think Daddy likes you."

"Well I'm glad somebody does," I said, still wounded that my own dog preferred a stranger to me.

"Lots of people like you," she said. "I do."

I looked at her and her eyes were wide, like she was surprised she'd said that. Her lips parted and for some reason I couldn't take my eyes off of them. They looked so soft. I felt my groin tighten and forced my eyes away.

"Coffee!" I said, my voice breathy.

We got the coffee ready without talking to each other. It was kind of weird. You know how you peek at somebody, only to find they're peeking at you, and you both look away real fast, trying not to get caught peeking? We did that. A lot.

We returned to the dining room to find Dave putting Bandit through his paces. The stupid mutt was doing the most amazing things. Dave could put a bit of food on top of Bandit's nose, tell him to wait, and then sit back. Bandit just sat there, still as a statue. Then Dave said, "Okay!" and somehow Bandit moved his muzzle down, to the side, up, and back the other way, trapping the food before it seemed to fall at all. I thought of all the times I'd almost lost fingers trying to feed the ungrateful hound.

"You just taught him that, didn't you," I said, convinced in my heart that Dave was a master trainer who could do miracles.

"Nope. He's been trained professionally, though," said Dave. "So far I've identified sixteen commands he knows."

"I swear he won't do anything for me," I complained again.

"He's competing with you," said Dave carelessly. "You need to become his equal, initially, and then take charge as the alpha male. After that you'll have him eating out of your hand."

"I'll believe that when I see it," I said doubtfully. "Right now it's more like he tries to eat my hand."

Both Dave and Chris thought that was funny for some reason.

"Okay, so how do I go about getting even with him?" I asked. I thought about how that sounded, and amended the question. "I mean how do I make him my equal?"

"Find something you both like, and participate in it together," said Dave. "Do you walk him?"

"Not very often. Usually he just goes to the back yard to do his business," I said.

"Walking can be much more than relief of his bladder and bowels," said Dave. "Walking can forge a bond between man and animal. It's something you're doing together. He'll like it because he gets to smell new smells. And you're in control of the leash, so that starts putting you in charge." He smiled. "That's one idea. There are many more. Chris knows a lot of them. Maybe she can help you."

I looked over at Chris. She smiled and nodded.

Coffee turned into an interrogation of me by Dave, but it was pretty low key. Some people might have even thought he was just interested in what I'd done over the years. And I didn't have anything to hide, so I didn't mind, really. I mean he thought his dauther and I were going together, so I could understand that. Then he said he had things to do, places to go and people to meet, and unceremoniously stood up, thanked me for dinner, shook my hand, and saw himself to the door. I looked at Chris, assuming she would go with him, since she brought him.

"He followed me in his car," she said.

"So you don't have to go?" I almost winced as I realized how ridiculously happy I sounded about that.

She giggled, though, instead of rolling her eyes. "I could stay for a little longer," she said in this teasing kind of voice. I understood what the term "coy" meant for the first time in my life. I tried not to wiggle like Bandit was wiggling. He understands English perfectly, it turns out, and he was just as happy she was staying as I was.

That actually turned out to be important, because she bent over and ruffled his fur and said, "Lucky me! How often does a girl have two handsome males interested in her?"

While I was trying to deal with that and send a message to my traitorous penis to stop inflating, she announced that the first thing she was going to try was getting Bandit to do something, and then having me do the same thing. She said something about memory impression or something like that, but because she was still bending over petting Bandit, all I could concentrate on was the cleavage she didn't know I was staring at.

We sat down on the couch, side by side, and she told Bandit to sit. He did, instantly. She praised him and then pointed to one side. "Go," she said. He looked over there, like he was trying to figure out what there was to go for, looked back at her, and then went a few steps in that direction. He turned around and looked at her like "Okay, what next?"

"Call him back here," she said, sotto voce to me.

"C'mere, Bandit," I said, slapping my knee several times.

"Use only the word 'come'," said Chris.

"Oh. Okay. Come!"

Bandit looked at me for a split second and then looked back at her.

"Come, Bandit," she said softly.

He trotted over to her, wagging his tail.

She leaned over to whisper in my ear. "Tell him to sit."

But the funny thing was that Bandit growled while she was doing that.

"What?" she asked the dog. But he had stopped growling.

"Sit!" I said sternly.

Of course Bandit did nothing, and I drew breath to say it again, louder.

"Wait," said Chris. She had a strange look on her face. She put her hand on my arm and Bandit's ears shot up. He leaned forward. "Oh my," she sighed.

"What?" I asked.

"He's jealous of you."

"He's what?" I suddenly sounded like a twelve year old boy whose voice is changing.