Utterly baffled, the three looked to Stuart for support. If anything, he was more confused than his friends.

  “I have no idea what she just said.” Turning back to the audience he inquired loudly, “Jen?”

  “Uh-oh,” Wanda murmured to the subject of the query. “You know they gonna be on you in three, two, one….”

  Following Stuart’s gaze, the befoiled lady picked out Jen in the audience. “Isn’t that Jen Jensen, the Pet Friendly Realtor? She must have a vested interest in the dog park. She should be able to do something, right?”

  “Told ya.” Turning away, Wanda lowered her gaze.

  “Aren’t you with Townsend Realty?” The woman was suddenly uncertain.

  “She is,” Stuart exclaimed even as Jen was making frantic shusshing gestures in his direction. “And real good at it!”

  Continuing inexorably, the foil lady might as well have suddenly turned into a minion of Satan himself. “And isn’t your fiancé with Daly Enterprises? Arthur Daly?”

  Jaunty as ever, Stuart responded. “No, he didn’t propose.”

  Out in the crowd, Jen covered her face with her hands. She was too numb now even to try and silence Stuart. Sensing she was on a roll, though of what kind she was not certain, the speaker addressed her directly.

  “I heard around that you’re like dating him for eleven years, and you knew nothing about this plan to take out the park and put a shopping mall on the site? That’s kind of hard to believe.” Muttering in the crowd showed that her accusation was not a solitary one.

  Jen straightened and raised her voice as she addressed the crowd. “First of all, the ‘pet friendly’ thing: that was my mother’s idea. Something to set me apart from other realtors, she said. Me? I never liked it. Secondly, Townsend is just a place I work and I have no control there. I’m not an executive or anything and as such I’m not privy to company decisions. I just list and sell houses. I’m not involved with the commercial property end of the business at all. So not only do I have no say in such matters, I don’t know what’s going on with them, either. And lastly,” she concluded, her words biting, “it was seven years, not eleven.”

  Someone in the crowd blurted out, “Another woman?”

  “No!” The subject of the town hall meeting seemed to have strayed very far from its rationale. “Why don’t you all just get your hair done and shut up!”

  The murmurings continued, but restrained now. In the back, a bald gentleman looked quite forlorn.

  Cindy rose from her seat. “Everyone, listen up. How many of you saw The Barkery today on channel 2?”

  Cindy’s interjection was sufficiently off-base to induce Nina to rise and push her friend aside. There was a purpose to everyone being in the salon and it wasn’t to promote Cindy’s business: something she would put in Cindy’s face, but at a later time.

  “Ay ya sientate!” Nina turned to the assembly. “Remember what we’re all here for. Stuart is right. Our dogs will be pissed if Jen’s boyfriend who is not her fiancé builds a shopping center over our park! It has to be stopped!”

  Vaguely aware that she might have overstepped the bounds of propriety even for Southern California, the lady with the foil in her hair struggled to offer support.

  “Well, if anyone can talk to their boyfriend who is not yet her fiancé after seven years it’s Jen Jensen!”

  “Yes!” yelled someone in the crowd, “Jen Jensen, the pet friendly realtor!”

  “You can do it, Jen!” someone else shouted.

  “Do it for all of us,” another exclaimed. “For us, and for our dogs!”

  “She can’t,” a man near the center declared, “because I bet she’s still in tight with Arthur Daly—even if he hasn’t proposed.”

  As the crowd fell to arguing among themselves, Jen could contain herself no longer. This wasn’t how things were supposed to go. Instead of an orderly group of people prepared to organize, the crowd had become a mob whose primary interest now seemed to be focused on her private life. Pushing her way to the front, she stepped up on the stage to pull Stuart aside.

  “I told you to wait in the car,” she hissed. “Why can’t you behave?”

  He shrank away from her. If he’d had a tail, it would have been tucked between his legs.

  “But Jen,” he pleaded, “I had to do something to help save the park, right?” He gestured weakly toward the chattering, arguing audience. “They wanted me to say something.”

  “About the park.” She was beyond exasperated. With the chaos in The Barkery, with Arthur, with her life, and now with Stuart. “Not about me. Not about my work, and certainly not about my relationship with Arthur. That’s private stuff. You don’t just go spouting to a bunch of strangers about someone’s personal relationships. Maybe dogs do it, but humans don’t. You’re just making things worse.” She nodded toward the crowd.

  “Now people are mad at me. Or suspicious, or amused, or—I don’t know what. But none of it is good. So please just stop.” She hesitated for an instant. “Or go away.”

  “Away? But Jen, I….”

  “You’re not obeying me, Stuart. That part of you has changed. You’re not like a dog anymore. You’re becoming like….” She halted.

  He tried to meet her gaze. “Becoming like? Like what?”

  She raised her eyes to his. “You know what I’m thinking.”

  “No.” He was open and innocent. As ever. “I only know what dogs think. Like what?”

  She was a little too angry just then to think clearly. She was mad right now; mad at pretty much everything, and the only one she could take it out on was Stuart. His eyes widened as she all but growled at him.

  “Oh no! Please don’t say it, Jen.”

  Too late. The image and the word had already formed in her mind.

  “A cat!”

  He stumbled away from her. “Noooo!”

  Whirling, he stumbled toward his three friends. Still sitting patiently behind him, they observed his agitated demeanor with puzzlement. Cocking his head to one side, Marley regarded his friend uncertainly.

  “Did you just get called a cat?”

  A distraught Stuart glared down at him. “Not funny, Marley. Jen hates me now.”

  With that, and for the first time using his long human legs to express displeasure, he stepped over a startled Marley and headed for the rear of the salon.

  Slightly off-kilter as usual, Gizmo looked around in evident surprise. “A mi si me gusto—I think it went great!” By this time a shaken Cupcake had fled to Cindy’s arms. Marley regarded the chihuahua sternly.

  “It’s not that you miss a few things, Gizmo. Somehow you manage to miss everything.”

  The smaller dog looked around, openly bewildered. “Que? What did I miss? Whaaaat?”

  Upset, whimpering, and not a little scared, Stuart stumbled out the back door of the salon and took off running down the service alley. He had not gotten far when he heard a voice. It was low, slow, and a had a bit of a slink to it, like a lounge singer after a couple of drinks.

  “It’s just not going your way, is it?”

  The words brought Stuart up short. Panting, he looked around, checked behind him, squinted down the length of the alley, but saw nothing. Proving that he had not gone crazy, the voice spoke again.

  “So you think you can save the dog park? What a shame.”

  “Who said that?”

  As far as he could tell, he was the only one in the alley. Was this something that affected humans when they were alone? Mysterious voices spoke to them out of thin air? Jen had never mentioned such a thing. But if it were something that only afflicted humans, why should she mention it to a dog? He missed that innocence. He missed being him.

  “It’s me,” the voice declared afresh.

  His fruitless searching continued. “I hear you, but I don’t see you.”

  “Of course you don’t. You never see me. It’s perfectly natural, and yet it’s not. It shouldn’t be, but it is. It’s the unfortunate nature of things. That’s Nature for you. Unfortunate.”

  “I’m not sure I understand what you’re saying. Why don’t I see you?”

  “Let’s see now. Hmm.” The voice paused to consider. “Maybe because I’m never at the dog park? Or never anywhere where you are?”

  For the moment, the unreal conversation allowed him to overlook his distress, to forget why he was in the alley in the first place.

  “How come? Everybody goes to the dog park. Everybody loves the dog park.” He continued seeking the source of the voice.

  “You’re half right,” the voice informed him. “Everybody loves the park. Some of us are less crazy about the dog part.

  A very slight noise, as of something scratching on metal, caused him to turn sharply. Lying atop a nearby trash dumpster was a large, gray, partially striped, discontented—cat.

  “A cat?” Stuart blurted redundantly. “You’re a cat.”

  “Ah,” the feline murmured, “one is but helpless in the face of a dog’s inimitable powers of observation. You’re in my backyard now.” The cat considered the human figure standing before it. “You don’t look so good for a human, and worse for a dog. Looks like you might need a little help.”

  Stuart took a step toward the dumpster. The cat tensed but held its position. “I should chase you, you know. Nothing personal. It’s just how it is.”

  “Chase away.” The cat was unperturbed. As if to further tempt Stuart, it began cleaning its ears, licking one paw and then bringing it down over first the right ear, then the left. “You’d never catch me. You’d have a hard time catching a house cat. Out here in the real world one has to move fast and smart. I’d be gone before you got in gear. Like the squirrels you never catch.”

  Stuart replied excitedly. “You know Freddy?”

  The cat looked up from its grooming, mildly interested. “Squirrel?” Stuart nodded. “Resident of the dog park?” Stuart’s head bobbed up and down a second time.

  The cat returned to cleaning itself. “Then why would I know it? I just said I never visit the dog park. You have a short memory. For a dog, that can be useful. For a cat—fatal. I don’t know your Freddy, but I do know squirrels, and I know you will never catch one. But you try. You try so hard. Right?”

  Stuart’s initial excitement at the mention of Freddy’s name had faded. “I do,” he confessed. “Freddy is faster than me.”

  “Also quicker,” observed the feline. “But not faster or quicker than a cat. I can attest to that,” he added ominously. “Trying to save the dog park? It’s a waste of time. We cats know when we’re wasting time. That’s why we sleep away most of it and when we are awake, make the most of it. You dogs have not learned that yet.”

  Stuart’s head hurt. Being a dog was so much easier than being a human. So much less to think about. So much less to worry about.

  “I’m still having trouble understanding you. What are you trying to say?”

  Rising to all fours, the cat stretched and yawned, showing claws and teeth. “I’m saying that you’re wasting your time, dog. You can’t save the park. You can’t catch a squirrel. You can’t even be a dog anymore.” Walking over to the side of the dumpster, it pointed with one paw to a dirty window. “Look at yourself.”

  As if hypnotized, Stuart stumbled over the window. There was more than enough light in the alley for him to see his reflection. Heedless of the accumulated grime, he used the palm of one hand to wipe the glass clean. The result was a sharper but not more reassuring likeness.

  “Is that what a dog looks like?” From atop the dumpster, the cat’s voice was reproving. “Trust me. You’re no longer a dog and you don’t make a very convincing human. Best if you just run far, far away.”

  Insulted by Jen. Judged by a cat. Stuart was sure he could not fall any farther. His defeat was total, his depression all-consuming.

  “Where—where would I go?”

  The cat exhaled, a scornful pfft. “Anywhere for you is better than here. A failure is the same no matter where he is. Just go.”

  Moving slowly, a downcast Stuart resumed his trek down the alley.

  “GO!” the cat urged him. Jolted by the feline shout, unsure what to do or where to run, he broke into a sprint.

  Settling itself down on its hindquarters, the cat serenely resumed licking its paws while muttering to himself.

  “Stupid dog. You can tell them to do anything.”

  As the crowd filed out of the salon, still jabbering among themselves, Jen and her friends brought up the rear.

  “I don’t care what anyone thinks.” Nina was defiant. “I like Stuart.”

  “Yeah, me too,” Wanda confessed. “He’s either dumber than we think or smarter than we think.”

  “Maybe,” Nina added, “We’re making him out to be something he’s not. Maybe we should just let him be—Stuart.”

  Cindy had been searching through the crowd and had checked the area around the stage. Now she looked over at Jen. “I don’t see him anymore. He was up there with our dogs, now he’s not. Where’d he go? You should bring him by The Barkery again.”

  Jen was fed up. Tired, frustrated, and less than happy with the women who were supposed to be her friends.

  “Oh yeah? For what, Cindy? A follow-up news story? That’d be great for publicity for the business, right?” Taken aback by the vehemence of Jen’s response, Cindy retreated. Leaning in, Wanda whispered to Cindy. “She’s pissed. I don’t blame her. The meeting didn’t go the way it should have.” Taking the other woman’s arm, Wanda guided her away. “Let’s all of us just leave her alone for a while. Let her get her head together.”

  Nina nodded agreement and together the three of them collected their dogs and departed the salon.

  As they joined the remainder of the crowd in exiting, Jim came over. He had been observing quietly. Now that Jen’s friends had left he felt a little more comfortable in her presence.

  “I feel bad now that I asked you to come to this.” She managed a wan smile in response. “I’m really sorry, Jen.” He looked past her, toward the stage and the rear of the salon. “Stuart took off?”

  She was only half listening to him. Her thoughts were churning and her emotions were all over the place. “I had a gut feeling when I got here, something was going to happen. It just wasn’t anything I anticipated.” She shook her head. “It was worse. That woman who spoke about me….” She caught herself, started over. “I asked Stuart to not come inside. No—I told him not to come inside. Guess it doesn’t matter what I say. Everyone gets crazy around him.”

  “I’m not sure ‘crazy’ is the right description,” Jim said. “Maybe ‘fascinated’ is a better word. Or enthralled—I don’t know. There’s certainly something unique about him. Something special. You can sense it.”

  “Bologna,” Jen remarked. His expression contorted.

  “What?

  “Bologna.” Her voice skated on sarcasm. “That’s what you’re sensing.”

  He hesitated and nearly laughed, but the look on her face stopped him. She was not happy.

  “Whatever other qualities he might have, no one can deny that he has a gift with animals,” he continued. “I was hoping he could give me some advice.” Now it was his turn to look downcast. “Sweetie is not eating. I called the vet and they can’t see her til Monday.

  “I’m sorry to hear that. Poor Sweetie Peters. Good girl. I hope you can solve the problem. Meanwhile, I better go find Stuart so I can apologize for getting mad at him. I just lost it there for a moment. It was that woman, and having my personal stuff broadcast in public, and not in a flattering manner. That coupled with what Stuart said and—well, I usually have better control of myself.” Look, again I’m sorry for what happened here. Hope everything works out for you with Arthur.” “Look, Arthur is a long story and I hope you don’t think I was aware of his…” Jim interrupts, “No need to explain, I understand. I should get going.” She gathered her emotions. “About Sweetie: I’ll ask him about her for you.”

  Stuart could do several things well. One of them was run. But even his reserves were not infinite. By the time he reached the dog park he was out of breath. It was one of only two places where he felt completely safe. The other was Home, but that was too far away and besides, Jen might be there, waiting to berate him again. Her words had hurt him like a stick.

  Looking for a friend, any friend, he spotted Hector and Ringo. Watching them play only added to the pain he was feeling. It should be him and Jen. Jen throwing the toy and him joyfully fetching it. Not the policeman and his canine partner.

  Hector had a good arm, and the stick he threw landed nearby. It was tracked and followed seconds later by the big German Shepherd. Snatching it up in his jaws, Ringo turned to rejoin his fellow officer when he noticed Stuart. Trotting over, he dropped the stick between them.

  “Hey, buddy, how y’doin’? You here for that butt sniff now?”

  The man towering over him dropped his gaze. “I’m not feeling well, Ringo.”

  The shepherd was immediately sympathetic. “Something’s bothering you, Stuart. I can recognize human expressions and interpret their meanings. Part of the job. What is it? Maybe I can help.”

  Hector’s voice reached them. “Hey Ringo, you okay over there?” Then he recognized Jen’s friend from college. The one who had told him about the shepherd’s infected tooth. He relaxed. If there was another human he didn’t worry about Ringo interacting with, it was the kindly if decidedly peculiar dog whisperer.

  “I think I’m wasting my time trying to save the park for the dogs.” He met the shepherd’s stare. “You have Hector and the whole police training area to play in. Small dogs need a special area or they get into trouble.” He hesitated. “Me, for example. I know I’m in trouble. I could let it all go, forget about it. But I know the others are depending on me. Sweetie Peters is depending on me.”

  “Must be tough.” Ringo didn’t know what to say, but he could offer emotional support.

  “It’s almost as hard as trying to catch Freddy.”

  Ringo turned thoughtful. “Freddy, the squirrel?”

  A morose Stuart eyed his friend. “You know another Freddy?”