Black Ribbon

as well—the fancy spins on the axis of the American Kennel Club. A dog with Bingo’s temperament, I should point out, didn’t belong on the grounds of any show, AKC, UKC, or any other KC, either.
    “I don’t mind,” Ginny said. “I know when I’ve made a mistake. I should never, ever have sold to Eva. She ruined that lovely puppy. I have never had temperament problems in my lines. My dogs live right in the house with me, and they all get along, and I can take them anywhere, and they never so much as look cross-eyed at another dog.” As if to verify Ginny’s claim, the chocolate Lab bitch she had with her strolled over to Rowdy, lowered her head, tilted it, stuck out a long pink tongue, and licked Rowdy’s muzzle. He regarded her with the air of an emperor accepting obeisance from a serf. “This one’s the worst of all,” Ginny commented. “Her name’s Wiz, but everyone always ends up calling her Kissy Face.”
    “I knew that dog of Eva’s looked familiar,” I said happily, “but I couldn’t place him. Bingo. Bingo looks like that big male of yours. I knew he reminded me...”
    Ginny’s face contorted in pain. Her body seemed to shrink. Cam caught my eye, frowned, and briefly raised a finger to her lips. “Merlin died,” she informed me quietly.
    “I am so sorry,” I said. “I had no idea. He was a wonderful dog. So beautiful.”
    And he was, too. Without spilling the sordid contents of “the Labrador mess”—a prolonged controversy about revising the AKC standard of the Labrador retriever—let me explain that the breed has become separated into two distinct lines, bench and field, show dogs and hunting dogs, and that Ginny’s were show dogs. So dirty and slippery are the grounds around the Labrador mess that I’m afraid to say what Ginny’s dogs looked like lest I skid on some politically charged word and tumble in. Let’s say that Merlin had been a big-boned, flashy-looking yellow dog with many titles and tons of charisma. Or let’s just say that Ginny loved him a lot.
    “I’m so sorry,” I repeated. Ginny’s pain was contagious. 1 patted my thigh to summon Rowdy and dug my fingers into the depths of his coat. Then I ran my fingertips over his wet nose. The gesture was completely irrational. Rowdy had been bouncing around sniffing tree trunks, lifting his leg, making friends with Wiz, and accepting her drooly kisses. I didn’t need to touch him to make sure that he was alive. I felt a renewed urgency about calling Leah. A mistake , I thought again, remembering the sympathy card. A simple error. Not Kimi.
    “Thank you,” Ginny said. “People have been...”
    “It helps,” I said. “It helps a little.”
    “Not really.” Cam shook her head. “Nothing does, really.”
    “It would be worse if no one gave a damn,” I said.
    “That’s how it is for most people,” Ginny said. “They can’t even talk about it. They’re afraid that someone’s going to say, you know, ‘only a dog.’ ”
    “One thing about this place,” said Cam, “is that no one’s going to say that. Everyone here understands.”
    I nodded.
    “I was going to bring Merlin,” Ginny told me, “and I had to call Maxine and tell her, and then when I got here, she’d left a card.”
    “In our room,” Cam said. “We’re sharing.” Cam’s face and tone lightened. Her smile was wry. “But Max did forget to sign it.”
    Ginny shrugged. “Maxine’s been running her tail off. It’s a wonder she remembered at all.”
    In the couple of seconds since I’d last had my eye on Rowdy, he’d wandered to one of the many covered trash barrels stationed here and there on the grounds. Fastened to the side of each was a big plastic bag that held a large supply of small plastic bags to be used in cleaning up after dogs and then deposited in the big barrels. The barrels were admittedly a sort of tree-trunk brown, and this one must already have acquired the interesting scent of other dogs. Even so.
    Rowdy, not there!” I ordered him. His glance called me a fool, but he dutifully lowered his leg. “Good boy.” I switched my attention back to Cam and Ginny. “Which cabin are you in?”
    Cam pointed. “The first one.”
    “Oh, I’m next door,” I said.
    Cam and Ginny exchanged a look I couldn’t read. As if first having obtained Ginny’s consent, Cam said, “Lucky you.”
    “To be right on the lake?”
    Their expressions changed.
    “Am I missing something?” I asked. “That’s one of the