Rachel Alexander 05 - The Wrong Dog

next?’ But she didn’t wait for an answer. She just said, ‘I can meet you there with your puppy.’ ”
    I leaned forward, literally as well as figuratively drawn into Sophie’s story.
    “I was so stunned,” Sophie said, “all I could think to say was that she shouldn’t bring the puppy into the run. ‘Too many germs,’ I blurted out. ‘Meet me at the fountain instead.’ She agreed and we made a time. When I hung up, my heart was pounding so fast that Blanche came over, her forehead crazed with wrinkles, then she backed up and barked, as confused, I guess, as I felt.
    “That was a Sunday, too. I got there first, looked all around and didn’t see her. So, of course, I began to think it was a gag, a pretty elaborate one, and that she wasn’t coming at all.
    “But then I saw her. She was carrying Bianca in her arms. As she approached, I looked down at Blanche, then back at Bianca. She was like a miniature of my dog, the same in every way.”
    Wouldn’t any white bull terrier look pretty much like any other white bull terrier? Isn’t that the whole point of having a standard? But I kept that thought to myself.
    “She handed me the puppy and took a pack of cigarettes out of her coat pocket, scowling at them before taking one out. ‘Will you need me to report to you? Or to anyone?’ I asked. I felt foolish. I was acting as if I was in a spy movie. Maybe she’d hand me a tape with my instructions and it would self-destruct after I played it. I didn’t know what to think. Or what to say.
    “ ‘We know everything we have to know,’ she said. She put the cigarette in her mouth and began to fish around in her pocket for matches. ‘Under the cellophane,’ I told her. Isn’t it weird that I remember that? But I do. I remember everything—what the sky looked like, how there was a guy on Rollerblades in the dry fountain, headphones on, singing and dancing, his arms up, his eyes squeezed closed. And this homeless man with tom rags wrapped around his feet, his skin all encrusted with grime, staring at me and the dogs. He looked so poor and I felt so rich.
    “Loma lit her cigarette and inhaled deeply, as if she was hungry—like that poor man must have been—and the smoke would fill her up. She blew a long stream out toward the center of the fountain. ‘Anyway, we know where to find you if we have any questions.’
    “ ‘There were three?’ I asked her. She didn’t seem to hear me. ‘There are two more Blanche puppies?’ ‘Yeah, sure, two more,’ she said. ‘But you only get one.’ She was one strange lady. She just turned to go. ‘How old is my puppy?’ I asked after her. ‘Eight weeks today,’ she said without turning around. ‘Has she had shots?’ Loma turned back, dug around in her pockets, and handed me a piece of paper. Before I’d unfolded it to see the list of inoculations and dates, she’d started to walk away again. ‘Thank you, Loma,’ I called after her. ‘Thank them for me, will you?’ She raised the hand with the cigarette and gave a little wave. That was the last I saw of her.”
    “No phone calls? No nothing?”
    “Uh-uh. Nothing.”
    “And when was that, the day you got Bianca?”
    “Fourteen months ago.”
    That made Bianca sixteen months old. No wonder she had so much energy.
    “I believed her. I believed all of it, at least once I got Bianca I did.”
    “And now?”
    She didn’t answer my question. “Now I have to locate Side by Side,” she said.
    “How come?”
    “When a seizure is coming, Blanche will get real close to me with this concerned look on her face. First she licks my hand, almost frantically. If I’m sitting—at school, or on the bus, or at home—she’ll crawl up onto my lap and start that frantic, worried licking on my face. Then she jumps off and starts pulling on me, to get me to my bed, or just down on the floor. I always have the pills with me, on me, in a pocket or a little pouch. So I take one out and as soon as Blanche sees the pill, even before I put it in my mouth, she calms down, sighs, and waits for me to lie down. Then she lies down next to me and waits it out. If a seizure starts even though I’ve taken the pill, she gets on top of me and licks my face until I wake up again.”
    “What if you’re out walking?”
    “She’ll stop. It’s like trying to get a building to move.
    She just won’t go. And when I tug, or turn to look at her, she starts to whine and pull toward home. If I’m not close enough to get home