My Fake Fling

“Yes,” she answered and patted the dog’s head. “Kona is a good girl, aren’t you?”

The dog’s tongue immediately popped out of its mouth. It looked ridiculous and happy. “Nice to meet you, Kona,” I said.

The dog lunged for me. I saw my life flash before my eyes. Instead of mauling me, it licked my hand and rubbed against me. Thea laughed and rubbed the dog’s side. “Good girl. She likes you.”

“Why?” I asked slightly horrified.

“She’s got a good sense of people. If she doesn’t like someone, she lets me know.”

“How?” I asked. “How does she let you know?”

“You’d know by now,” she teased. “All your body parts are still attached.”

“I don’t think that’s funny,” I muttered.

“It wasn’t supposed to be.” She draped the shawl over a chair. “You’ve met Kona. The pittie is Bryce and the little yappy one is Peppy.”

“Did you name them?” I asked.

“I named Peppy,” she said. “He was brought in as Demon.”

My eyes immediately went to the dog. “Do I want to know why?” The shepherd was leaning against my legs to the point I had to spread my legs to brace myself. I couldn’t imagine the dog doing this to Thea. She’d knock her over.

“Peppy got a bad rap,” Thea said before sitting down and undoing her heels. “He was not treated well and reacted poorly. He was a little nippy, but he’s a good boy now. He just needed a little confidence. I couldn’t adopt him out with his bite history, so I brought him home.”

I looked at the ugly little dog with wariness. “Good to know.”

“I have not had a single biting incident with him,” she explained. “He hangs out with these two and is just fine. It’s all about the environment. We tested him with cats and even birds. The dog does not have a mean bone in his body. He was just feeling scared and insecure.”

“He told you that?” I snorted.

“Work with as many throwaway dogs as I do, and you can speak their language,” she said.

That was Thea. There was never a bad dog. There was never a bad person. She looked at every human and animal with kindness. The ones with problems just needed fixing. I supposed that was why I was currently getting covered in hair and about to drink tea. I needed fixing.

“I’ll get the teapot going,” she said. “Guys, outside! Go potty!”

I watched her walk barefoot to the back door. The dogs pushed past her and went through the doggy door. Free of the dog leaning against me, I walked into the house. It was neat and tidy with a blanket tossed over the couch. I assumed it was for the dogs to lie on. There were pictures around the living room of her family and a few of the dogs.

“Sorry about the dog hair,” she said from the kitchen. “It’s been a really busy week. I haven’t had time to de-fur the place. I try and do it once a week, but it does feel like I’m fighting a losing battle.”

“It’s fine,” I said and shrugged out of my jacket. I draped it over one of the other kitchen chairs.

“It’s not fine, and we both know it,” she said. “But you’re dealing with it. I know it isn’t everyone’s cup of tea, but they are my babies, and they make me happy.”

“It’s your house,” I told her. “You should be happy in your own home.”

I leaned against the wall and watched her move around the kitchen that was just a little dated. She handed me a cup of tea and grabbed her own. “We can enjoy our tea outside. It’s a nice night and the patio furniture isn’t covered in hair.”

I felt really bad for giving her such a complex about the dog hair. It really wasn’t that big of a deal. They invented lint brushes for a reason. We sat down at the small table. Kona was the only one to stay outside with us. The other two went inside. Thea explained they had a pretty set bedtime. Kona stretched out on the cement patio with her head resting on my foot. I didn’t dare move. She might think my foot was something to be attacked.

“So, tell me more about your dad,” she started. “How has he been all these years?”

“Good,” I answered. “Really good. He’s been different since Mom passed away. None of us believe he was ever madly in love with her. He had love for her, but we all knew where his true love lay.”

“Kathy,” she said.

“Yep. Some things never change. I’ve been thinking about the situation,” I told her. “I know my dad wouldn’t up and leave. If he was hurt or injured, someone would know. I would assume they would run fingerprints. If he’s not in a hospital or a morgue, he’s out there somewhere. He’s not staying away because he wants to.”