Gaits of Heaven

house. You don’t mind, do you.” It was a statement or perhaps an order or even a commandment. “We have socks and slippers you can use.”
    Reminding myself to watch before I stepped, I eased off my running shoes and said, “I’m wearing socks. I’ll be fine.” Actually, if it hadn’t been for Dolfo, I’d have been delighted. The phenomenon of shoeless houses fascinated me, mainly because everything about the concept was not just foreign to the way I lived but entirely incompatible with it. I’d been in two shoeless houses before this, and both times, I’d tried to imagine explaining to my husband, my friends, and my relatives that henceforth they were to remove their shoes at the door and walk around in slippers or stocking feet. That’s about as far as I’d gone with the notion, since it was clear that my husband, my father, and Kevin Dennehy would have been unable to comprehend what I was saying; they just plain wouldn’t have understood. The same went for the dogs, who didn’t wear shoes, of course, but who’d somehow have been mystified by the ban anyway.
    “Ted is dying to see you,” said Eumie, who was wearing loose, flowing white garments, white slippers, and large silver earrings. On her left wrist were six silver bangle bracelets. I wondered whether the peasant-priestess garments and the artisanal silver represented an effort to adapt to Cambridge, which favors natural fibers, ethnic or handcrafted accessories, and shoes too hideous to deform the feet. As on the previous evening, Eumie’s hair was, however, artfully blond and her makeup copious and colorful. “We both feel awful that we’ve waited so long to get help for Dolfo,” she said. “It’s not like us. We are not help-rejecting types.”
    By now, we were in the front hall, which was redolent of freshly applied Simple Solution, an enzyme product that neutralizes dog urine. Although Dolfo was not in sight, his presence was visible on the chewed rails of the graceful staircase and on the gnawed fringe of an otherwise lovely Persian rug.
    “I thought we might work outdoors,” I suggested, not only because I wanted to enjoy the spring day but because Eumie and Ted might expect me to clean up after Dolfo if— when—he messed in the house. As Eumie had just said, she was not a help-rejecting type. Visible through the archway to the dining room was a barefoot woman energetically polishing a banquet-size table. Another woman, this one wearing slippers, was dusting a menorah that sat on a buffet. Glancing at them, I asked, “Your housekeepers?”
    “They’re from Maid for You. They’re just tiding us over. We really prefer to have people who become part of the family. Ted should be free in a few minutes. Where on earth is Dolfo?”
    Eumie set off on a Dolfo hunt with me trailing behind. We passed through a large living room, an even larger family room with massive leather furniture and a wall of glass doors, and a kitchen that was all cherry, granite, and stainless steel. All three sinks were piled with dirty dishes, and there were crumbs scattered on the hardwood floor. “Dolfo! Dolfo!” Eumie kept squealing. From behind a door in a corridor off the kitchen came the sounds of scratching and retching. Eumie opened the door to reveal a pink-tiled powder room and the clownish dog, who greeted us by dropping the bar of soap in his mouth into the puddle of soapy saliva at his feet. Bubbles dripped from his mouth and his tongue, which was the correct size for an Irish wolfhound, perhaps, and, being far too long to fit in Dolfo’s mouth, was doomed perpetually to loll from his mouth. Neither his tongue nor the taste of soap appeared to bother him at all. On the contrary, he wagged his silly tail and, catching my eye, gave what I thought was a smile of happy recognition.
    Eumie was furious. “Those damn cleaners! They shut him in here like an—”
    “Animal,” I finished. “He doesn’t seem to have swallowed much of the soap.” Blocking his exit, I said, “Eumie, if you’ll get a couple of paper towels, I’ll swab his mouth out, and he’ll be fine.”
    Before I had malamutes, I might mention, I was a straightforward person. Now, thanks to Rowdy and especially thanks to Kimi, I’m manipulative and opportunistic. During Eumie’s brief absence, which I’d engineered, I reached into my tote bag, got a thin collar and a short leash, and had Dolfo dressed for the day by the time she returned.
    “Dolfo’s school