Paws before dying

It’s not as if she’d stolen it.”
    “If you’d entered into the spirit of it, it would’ve been no problem,” he said. “You could’ve traded, right there on the spot.”
    “Right. On the sidewalk. And the worst of it was, I was just seething, and at the same time, I still didn’t want to make a scene. I don’t believe in humiliating kids in front of their friends, plus I ended up with this ridiculous feeling that I was being sort of stingy and unreasonable, and if I made a scene, I’d just be making a fool of myself. I mean, there they are, open and generous and free, and I’m constricted and selfish.”
    “It was right not to say anything,” he said.
    “Well, I did sort of hiss at Leah, and when she gets home, I’m not going to yell at her, but this is really too much. I know you think it’s funny, but it’s not as if I had a million new sweaters. Damn it, the dogs wouldn’t give away my new sweater. And I know you think it’s cute, but I’m waiting up for her, and the second she gets in, we are going to have a serious talk about it.”
    I leaned down, took Rowdy’s muzzle between my hands, and gently ran my fingers over his hot, unhappy nose. I didn’t say anything, but he knew what I meant: Summer is not forever. Snow will fall. You will be back in harness.
    “At the risk of sounding like Rita,” Steve said, “uh...”
    “Uh, what?”
    “It, uh... Well, you have been, uh, real willing to turn Kimi over to her.”
    “Yes,” I said rather loudly. “I have. I’m glad you noticed. The Alaskan malamute is not a one-person dog, remember?” Actually, the breed standard needs updating; it says one-man dog. “What time is it, anyway?”
    “Eleven twenty-four.”
    “So she has exactly six minutes,” I said.
    “So why’d you change the subject?”
    “I didn’t. Kimi’s with her.”
    “Relax,” Steve said. “So’s Jeff.”
    At quarter of twelve, Steve was mouthing excuses. At midnight, we started in on flat tires. At twelve-fifteen, we finally got to accidents. I hadn’t been so angry since the moment that Danny, one of my goldens, had danced out of the woods at Owls Head with a fat porcupine in his mouth. He kept tossing the damned thing up in the air and catching it, driving more and more quills deeper and deeper into his head, muzzle, mouth, and throat. In spite of the pain, he was delighted with himself. I was furious: How could he hurt himself like that when I loved him so much? What if we missed a quill and infection set in? What if one penetrated his brain? What if he died? Damn him for it. Damn Leah.
    “Okay, I’ve had it,” I said. “Now I get on the phone.”
    Leah and I had agreed that, within reason, she could go pretty much where she pleased. But she had to let me know where it was. And, I should add, we had both kept our parts of the bargain. That evening, for instance, she had dutifully left Emma’s phone number and address on the message pad by the kitchen phone. If I’d been less worried, I’d have hesitated to wake up Emma’s family in the middle of the night, but, in any case, it was Emma who answered. Leah and Jeff had left at ten-fifteen, she said solemnly.
    I believed her. “Did they, um, did they say anything about going somewhere else? McDonald’s or somewhere? Someone’s house?”
    Emma didn’t know. She had no idea. Next I tried Jeff’s number. An answering machine picked up. I left a message. Then I rang the number again a couple of times in the hope that the ringing would awaken or irk the Cohens, but they evidently slept through or ignored it, if they were home at all.
    Then I yelled at Steve. “Damn it all! This is my fault. She looks older than she is, and he seemed like such a responsible kid.”
    “He is a responsible kid,” said Steve. “That’s what’s frightening. He isn’t careless. It isn’t like either of them to do this for no good reason.”
    “Oh, shit. I keep imagining... Oh, hell. I mean, nightmares happen. Do you remember—when was it?—a car went into the Charles, and someone drowned? Someone was trapped. Steve, they would call. If they had a flat tire or the car broke down, they would call.”
    “Too much beer?”
    “Possibly,” I said. “I wouldn’t swear they don’t drink. But you know, I’d swear they wouldn’t drink and drive. I had a long, long talk with Leah about that, and I know she’d call me. Rita gave me this thing from Students Against Drunk Driving. It was when I first knew Leah was