Page 21 of Puppy Love

“Are you being a good boy, Leo?” She ruffles the feathers behind the dog’s ears, his humorously long tongue hanging out the side of his mouth. I turn the water on and tediously adjust the handles to ensure it’s the proper temperature. Violet continues loving on Leo as she leans against the metal bath.

“What are you doing?” I ask suspiciously. Violet has been, at least I thought, avoiding me too. I’ve noticed it: the quick glances through the window and the awkward hesitation before she checks in on the dogs in the salon. I don’t know whether to be grateful for it or to simply let the humiliation consume me.

“I’m the manager.” Violet’s head tilts ever so slightly. “Am I not allowed to check in on my employees?” Her tone is so serious, but there’s a hint of a smirk tugging at the corners of her mouth.

“Technically,“ I say, moving the hose up and down Leo’s body. Water flows over his thick black coat. “I’m an independent contractor.”

Violet arches one of her perfect, pierced eyebrows, and her subtle smirk grows.

“But no,” I add quickly, remembering that, regardless of the title, she has every authority to fire me. “No, you’re definitely allowed to.”

“Oh, well.” She bends down, stretching out her arms, and I realize she is displaying an invisible curtsey, “If you say so.”

Trying not to roll my eyes, I use my hands to glide through the layers, making sure each section of the fur is soaked. After briefly scanning my options, I grab a white bottle of shed-control shampoo. Winter coats are making their appearance, leaving the forgotten summer coats behind. Violet stands at the edge of the tub and watches, making me nervous this is some kind of test. I pump a generous amount of the clear, gelatinous substance into my hand, the aroma of citrus radiating from my palm, and do my very best to ignore her presence.

My fingers run through the dog’s coat, fingertips softly brushing against his skin as I scrub him. Violet clears her throat.

“So, Lana’s dad called and wants to know if you have room for another bath today. His wife is coming home from the hospital, and he wants to surprise her. I said I’d call him to let him know.”

How do you say no to that?

“Lana...?” My mind shuffles through mental flashcards, failing to find one referencing the name “Lana.”

“Yellow lab, about fifty-ish pounds, really sweet, light’s-on-but-nobody’s-home. I think she jumped on you in the lobby yesterday morning.”

Why does she remember that?

“Oh! Lana! Uh...”

A loud clinking sound bellows from the tub, metal against metal. Our eyes dart to Leo, who has decided to vigorously shake his entire body. We try to shield ourselves from the wave, but it’s too late. Warm soapy water washes over us in a wet surge.

“Leo!” Violet whines, using her sleeve to wipe suds off her face. She shakes her hands out, droplets flying in every direction, then looks up at me with an amused grin. “Well, I guess we’re even then.”

I think she’s just as shocked about her comment as I am, because the second it leaves her mouth, the whites of her eyes go round and face grows red, her jaw snapping shut. Heat rushes to my cheeks, and I swear I could start to liquefy. I open my mouth, but I have no idea why. I have nothing to say.

If I acknowledge the comment, then we both recognize the situation. And if we both recognize the situation, that means it’s real. And I’d like to keep pretending that it didn’t happen. My lips press together in a flat, dissatisfied line. Violet’s lips part again as she clicks her tongue awkwardly. I swear to God she is scared of silence.

“So...Lana?” she asks, scratching the back of her head.

“Right! Uh...” I continue to scrub Leo, my face itching from the suds still soaking into my cheeks. I scrunch my nose repeatedly, attempting to soothe the irritating sensation, but to no avail. My cheek lifts as I squint my left eye. I probably look ridiculous, but it doesn’t matter. “Yeah, I should be able to swing that. ETA?”

Scrunch.

“He said he’d be back just before closing.”

“Sounds good.”

Scrunch.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, no I’m good, I just—”

Scrunch.

“I just have an itch and my hands are covered with soap.”

A light laugh slips through her lips, and her eyes draw to mine. “Where?”

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