“No one breaks up with Arthur Daly.

  Back in Newport, Jen had no sooner put the phone down than it warbled for attention again. Picking it up, she all but yelled into it.

  “Arthur! Your phone sucks!”

  The voice that replied was calm, controlled, almost subdued. “Jen? This is Jim?”

  She slumped. Was she doomed to forever embarrass herself with this man? “Jim? Thank god it’s you. Arthur’s phone sucks. It keeps dropping out. He claims it’s because he’s on a boat but I don’t know that I buy that. You’d think with all his money he could afford a decent carrier, right?”

  Jim replied, a little less subdued this time. “I don’t know this Arthur.”

  “Oh, land developer guy, longtime associate. We’ve had some dealings with each other. Anyways. How are ya? You’re calling about the guitar, right? I can write you a check or if you want cash, I can maybe get to the bank this afternoon and we can meet….”

  He interrupted her. “I’m not concerned about that right now, Jen. I already got a new one.”

  It threw her a little bit. Jim had not struck her as someone with access to ready cash, and a replacement instrument of the same quality as the one she had wrecked would not come cheap.

  “A new one? Already?”

  “Don’t worry about it. Right now I’m more concerned about the park. There’s gonna be a Town Hall meeting at the hair salon across from the parking lot. You should come. Your input would be valuable.”

  “That’s news to me. Of course I’ll be there. What day and time?”

  “In fifteen minutes.”

  She choked. “Fifteen minutes? You mean like, in fifteen minutes today?”

  “That’s right.” He proceed to pass on as many pertinent details as he had been able to gather. She listened intently.

  Seated at the kitchen table, Stuart had discovered that in addition to acquiring many other human traits he was now able to operate her computer.

  This did not shock him. Not given how many hours he had spent sitting patiently at her side watching her engage with work and play on the same machine. Having fingers, he reflected, made all the difference.

  At the moment he was on the order page of Petco.com., talking to himself as his human digits worked the keys.

  “A box of bully sticks.” Using the mouse, he moved on to another image. “Oh yeah, those fish skins are delicious, let’s have a box of those, too.” He did not pause to consider anything other than his appetite. “Let’s do four boxes of bison jerky: that will last a day or two, and also….”

  “STUART!”

  He closed the laptop and hurried to the front room. Jen was hunting down her purse. “Stuart, Jim just called. Something important, real important, has come up. We gotta go now!”

  Immediately he set aside all thoughts of the laptop, the prospective food order, and everything else. When Jen said they had to do something, that took primacy over anything and everything else. Even when he didn’t have a clue what she was on about.

  “Where are we going?”

  “To the salon. The one by the park.” She headed for the front door.

  “The park!” His delight was unrestrained.

  She held the door open for him. “It’s not what you think. This isn’t a trip to the park. This is a trip about the park.”

  He puzzled over that as she shut the door behind them.

  The parking area was crowded, more so than usual, but providentially someone pulled out right in front of the salon and she was able to grab the space. Shutting off the car she turned to her passenger. His hair was mussed more than normal because he had hung his head out the window for the entire duration of the drive from her house. She stared at him hard, her tone serious.

  “Okay, Stuart. I need you to stay right here.” She cracked the door. “I’ll go inside for a minute and scope it out. There may be some not so nice people here who think I’m part of the problem. Townsend people.” Her expression twisted. “Hard as it is to imagine, they may have some supporters. I’ll come get you soon. Just stay in the car.”

  He looked doubtful. “But everyone knows you shouldn’t leave a dog in a car.”

  From the look she gave him he realized that rationale wasn’t going to fly. Worth a try, though, he thought.

  “I will stay right here,” he said stiffly. “I will not go anywhere.”

  “Good boy.” Leaning over, she kissed him on the head. Then she lowered the windows, made sure she took her purse, and exited, heading for the salon.

  As soon as she was inside, he started hunting. The glove box volunteered only gum and a stray Quest bar. He could have consumed the latter, especially since he knew it was unlikely to adversely affect his human form, but it had chocolate chips in it. He had been trained from puppyhood that chocolate was dangerous to dogs and even though he was now human he was unable to overcome his conditioning (except, he remembered, when ice cream was involved).

  Exploring beneath his seat and the driver’s produced some loose change, a pair of old sunglasses, a flash drive whose contents were a mystery to him, and a lot of beach sand, but nothing remotely edible. His foraging having failed, he slumped back in his seat.

  “I should’ve brought a bone to work on,” he muttered to himself. They had left the house in such a hurry that the notion of taking food along had not occurred to him.

  The salon was spacious and modern, providing enough room for multiple stations to operate simultaneously. A number of women were having their hair done while another was receiving a manicure. In the back, the space where beauty demos were given had been taken over by the group putting on the town hall.

  A crowd was clustered around the makeshift stage, which was currently empty. Making her way through the people and the chatter, Jen spotted Wanda and Nina and pushed her way toward them.

  “Wanda, is this your deal?”

  The other woman shook her head. “Hell no. I just work here. I was prepping my station and the next thing you know all these people are coming in.” She looked past Jen. “Here’s Cindy. Maybe she knows something.”

  The new arrival looked at Wanda, then Jen. “You guys set this up?”

  “I just asked Wanda the same question.” Jen pondered. “So okay, not us. Then who?”

  Wanda pointed toward the small stage. “I think we’re about to find out.”

  A woman none of them recognized stepped up onto the platform and took up a stance behind the portable podium. She gave the mic a tap and the resultant thump went out over the crowd. At that moment Jen recognized her. They had met before on a couple of occasions involving business, but it had been a while ago. Different coiffure, different attire, faded memory. Jen still felt she should have remembered the speaker.

  “Thank you everyone for coming to this Town Hall meeting. I’m council woman Martha Martinez. As some of you may already know, we are facing the potential loss of our beloved dog park.”

  It was all true, then, Jen thought. As if any further confirmation was needed. She just hadn’t wanted to believe it. That was what often happened in instances such as this. Nobody wanted to believe that the worst was going to happen, until it was too late.

  It was a good thing, she reflected, that she had left Stuart in the car. He would not have been able to remain silent during the meeting. And she could not have blamed him. It was going to be hard for her to restrain herself. Looking back toward the entrance she was relieved not to see him. Whatever happened in here, at least he was behaving himself in the car.

  No food scraps. No bones. No treats, not even TV. Stuart was already bored beyond measure. At least in his four-legged guise he could have hopped easily from front seat to the rear and back again and had some exercise. But enmeshed as he was in his bipedal form he could not even do that. Not as long as he was confined within the car. But he had promised Jen to remain where he was, and a promise in any form was a promise to be kept. No matter what.

  Then he saw the cat.

  It was sauntering along among the other cars. He slipped instinctively into full watch mode; all senses alert, muscles tense, eyes roving. Dropping down off the roof of a Honda, the feline vanished among tires and bumpers.

  When it reappeared, it was on the hood of Jen’s car.

  Lurching forward, Stuart slammed a hand against the inside of the windshield. The cat reacted quickly but calmly, once more disappearing out of sight. Stuart’s gaze flicked from side to side, scanning. Simultaneously he sniffed at the air, but caught nothing on the breeze. Cat was gone.

  Cat reappeared; legs spread, flattening itself against the windshield and peering inside. Its eyes were yellow, wide, challenging. Its expression was contemptuous.

  Going ballistic, Stuart leaped out of the car. Or would have save for the fact that he didn’t quite fit through the open passenger side window. Remembering what he was now, he fumbled a moment with the handle to open the door. By the time he was able to exit, the cat was long gone. The faint resonance of risible meow hung in the air.

  Quietly enraged, he hunted for his tormentor, peering beneath parked vehicles, even searching a nearby trash can. No cat. Only the memory of its disrespect.

  Movement caught his eye. It was Marley, using a paw to signal to Stuart from the other side of a Totally Clips front window. As soon as he was sure he had caught Stuart’s eye, the Puli vanished. Stuart headed in his direction.

  Marley reappeared, as per his paw-waving instructions, at the back door to the salon, which was standing open. He was not alone. Cupcake and Gizmo were there as well. The odd sensation of a tear forming at the corner of one eye brought an elated Stuart up short.

  “Hey guys! It’s so good to see you.”

  “Same back atchoo, Stu.” Plunking himself down on his butt, Gizmo used a hind leg to scratch behind one ear. “We’ve missed you at the park.”

  He smiled. “How’s Freddie?”

  “Fast and crazy as ever,” Cupcake told him. “You were awesome today! The news lady came into The Barkery and wanted to put you on TV, but nobody could find you.”

  “I was with Jen. Is that good? Being on TV, I mean. Humans seem willing to do anything to get on TV. When humans are willing to do anything for something, it makes me suspicious.”

  “Then you need to get over it.” Marley was as serious as Stuart had ever seen him. “You getting on TV could help save the park.”

  Switching sides and legs, Gizmo continued scratching. “I talked with some East Side chihuahuas who are afraid that if the dog park here closes, fancy little uptown dogs might move in on their turf.

  Of course, me and the guys would have them for breakfast. First Lhasa Apso that tried something like that would be upside-down in a minute. But we can’t challenge their owners.”

  Cupcake took a step forward. “Stuart, you are the only one who can save the park. The humans will argue and debate and bark about ‘quality of life’ and throw stupid numbers around like they always do, but you’re the only one who can speak for us.”

  “Yeah, bro,” Marley put in. “Cupcake’s all right on this one, know what I’m sayin’?”

  “You’re the only one who can talk human to them,” Gizmo added. “It would make more sense in Dog, but no matter how well or loudly we took our stance, all we’d get in return is ‘Shut up, you!’.” He looked disgusted. “As if ‘you’ was a proper name.”

  Inside the salon, the councilwoman was concluding her talk. She had been energetic and earnest—but she had not sounded very hopeful.

  “So I would like to thank you all as we gather to try and save our park. We have much to try to do and, sadly, not much time in which to do it. For reasons I could go into. Instead, let me introduce you to someone else who has made it his business to step forward and offer his support in this matter.” Applause filled the confined space as a man from the audience advanced to the podium. The councilwoman made room for him.

  “Let me introduce you to Jim. He is very involved in the effort to save the park. In fact, it was he who made this meeting possible and on such short notice.”

  In response to this, someone shouted from the crowd.

  “Too short? You’re telling me! I found out five minutes ago!” Cries of support and agreement rang out from the assembled. They settled down when it became apparent that the man standing next to Martinez was ready to speak.

  “Hi, everyone.” He glanced to his left. “Thanks, Martha.” For a moment he was silent, surveying the crowd and waiting for the last of the attendees’’ understandable anxiety to die down. “Many of you don’t know me and may think I’m relatively new to the park. Well, I grew up in Newport and played at the park with Gatsby, my first Boston Terrier, back when I was a kid. I’ve been living elsewhere for a while, but now that I’ve moved back, Sweetie Peters and I are there daily. She takes me to the park (a few of the listeners chuckled in agreement) because I can do my job there and be around what I love most: dogs.

  “It’s not just a ‘dog park’. Everyone here knows that. It’s our park. I would’ve brought Sweetie with me to give you her opinion but right now she’s at home, resting. This whole ordeal has made her a bit nervous. Isn’t it interesting how our pets somehow know what’s going on? When we’re happy or sad, when we’re relaxed or on edge? We have hundreds of locations in Southern California especially designated as places for us to rest and relax. Dogs have only a few. Somehow, we have to get that across to those who would remove one more locale from that already short list. Somehow.” He paused to let his words linger.

  “So I prepared some petitions for us to sign,” he continued, “asking that the removal of the park at least be delayed until appropriate land and usage studies can be completed. Because those are lacking from the relevant rezoning request. I know; I checked. I hope you will sign them tonight even though I’m afraid we may not beat the clock in time and Townsend/Daly will come level the park before we can mount a proper legal fight. If we can present cease and desist petitions with enough signatures quickly enough—well, all we can do is try.”

  While she was surveying the crowd, one face caught Nina’s attention. She nudged Jen in the ribs and gestured. “Here comes your friend.”

  Coming from the back of the salon, Stuart had no trouble finding his way. Nor was he alone. Three dogs trailed in his wake. Though leashless they advanced with dignity, heads high, tails under control. Not a single inappropriate bark was heard.

  “Oh no,” Jen murmured. “I told him to stay in the….”

  “Wherever you told him to wait,” Cindy said, “it looks like he has something important on his mind. And I think he’s going to say it.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  It was far too late to do anything, Jen saw. At least not without causing a ruckus. Stuart was already on stage and Jim was ceding the floor. If she had spotted him earlier….

  She shut her eyes. There was no telling what he might say and if it proved to be outrageous, no certainty that she would be able to explain it away. She could only stand with her friends and hope.

  Looking out over the audience, Stuart beamed. “Hello all dog owners and non-dog owners.” Frowning at his choice of words, he looked uncertainly at Jim. “Non-dog owners okay?” When Jim gave him a smile and a thumbs-up, he relaxed and continued.

  “I am here to tell you Jim is right. Like many of you here, he loves the park. I don’t think that love is dependent on whether you have a dog or not. The park is a special place, a unique place, and if it goes away there won’t be a replacement. All of us will be parkless.” Everyone in the audience was listening intently. They knew who he was. Or thought they did.

  “Parkless, and dogless. If you don’t have a dog we can get you one. There are plenty of furry hearts looking for a home. That’s what this is all about: heart.”

  The crowd applauded. To Stuart it seemed genuine, and he believed he knew enough about humans to tell when they were being honest or when they were lying.

  “Then, because you love your new best friend so much, you will want to take them to the park. Right? Because your heart and their heart will both be in the same place.”

  From back of the crowd and nearer to the front of the salon, a woman having her hair done had been trying to listen but was having trouble making out Stuart’s words.

  “Where is all this going? What are you saying? That we need to own a dog?”

  “Mrs. Wildhorn,” Stuart called back, “take your hair dryer off. I’m explaining why we all need to sign Jim’s petition or there is going to be no more dog park.”

  This time she heard his every word clearly. If there was one thing Stuart had always possessed, it was a strong set of lungs. Nor was he finished.

  “Your dogs deserve to have a park. You deserve to have a dog park. They need a good, safe, clean place to pee and chase squirrels. So do you.” Everyone laughed at this—but it was good natured laughter. The crowd was with him. He could sense it.

  “The dog park has been a part of Newport for a long time. It’s what we love, and it’s what we need. Not another shopping center. We already have plenty of shopping centers.” Looking back, he addressed the three dogs seated politely behind him. “How was that?”

  All three nodded in unison. Fully engaged in its own passionate debate, it was doubtful if anyone in the crowd noticed. Satisfied with his friends’ approval, he turned back to the assembly.

  “Anyone here besides me care about this? Enough to do something about it? Sign the petition!”

  Pushing back the hair dryer beneath which she had been sitting, the woman next to Mrs. Wildhorn rose to speak. She had foil in her hair and interrupting the work of the dryer would not be good for the final results, but her enthusiasm got the better of her.

  “My Fifi here really loves the park. I care!” Seated on a cushion in a chair beside the dryer, the eponymous poodle let out a series of high-pitched barks that reached Stuart and the trio sitting behind him.

  “Pensez-vous que je devrais aller avec des ongles rouges ou roses?”