“I’ll ask,” he said, in a friendly way. He went out to the truck to retrieve something. When he came back in, I could hear him asking Arnie my question.
Arnie popped out from Sophie’s bedroom to tell me he was through with her windows. I was glad to stow my sleeping daughter. I wandered back to the living room aimlessly. It was hard to settle down to anything while the two men were in the house. Even Robin had gotten bored and returned to his office.
I sifted through the mail that had accumulated over the past week, and pitched most of it. I took care of a couple of bills.
I checked my calendar (I entered appointments on my phone, but Robin and I kept an actual physical calendar on the wall). I was glad I had when I saw that the Women of the Church were meeting in two days to plan the annual holiday bake and handcraft sale. This was our big charity fund-raiser, and it was an all-hands-on-deck event.
I decided to take Sophie to the meeting in her carrier. Robin had missed enough work. I was looking forward to getting out of the house again, seeing fresh faces. I felt my smile fade when I had a very unpleasant thought. What if people were creepy to me? Surely, at a church gathering, people would be reminded of their Christian duty to love their neighbors? No matter how unsettling that neighbor’s circumstances?
By golly, I was for sure going, now.
I immediately began to second-guess myself. But my mother would have gone, if this had all happened to her. And maybe, if John was a lot better, Mother even might come tomorrow. My mother would singe the ladies’ eyebrows with one glance, if they didn’t make me feel welcome. I smiled, just thinking about it.
Not that I needed, at my age, to hide behind my mother.
At that moment I heard Lulu start yapping hysterically, followed by a deep “Woof!” Someone in the Hermans’ yard was shouting. I was out the patio door before I was conscious of moving.
Chaka had jumped the fence and was in our backyard. He was at the foot of the mimosa tree looking up with fierce intensity. Lulu, deciding Chaka should not be even closer to Lulu’s sacred territory, was giving it all she had by way of negative reinforcement.
I was surprised—shocked—to see Chaka in our yard. With some vague idea of rescuing Moosie, I started across the yard. I wasn’t running, but I was certainly walking very briskly.
“Roe!” Peggy called. “Slow down! Be calm!” I resented this until I understood she was warning me Chaka might become more agitated. I froze. I admit, I was scared. The dog had never been anything but quiet, well-behaved, and friendly.
I heard our patio door opening behind me. Robin appeared at my side. (I assumed he had walked slowly, because I wasn’t going to look away from the large dog to verify that.)
“Hey, boy,” Robin said, in an easy voice. “What you got up in the tree?” Chaka turned his head to look at Robin. He wasn’t growling (Chaka, not Robin), and I thought that was a good sign.
“Moosie,” I said, very quietly.
“I’m coming around to your yard,” Peggy said, and I wondered why she didn’t jump the fence like Chaka must have done. From our bedroom window, I’d watched Peggy vault over once when Chaka’s ball had landed in our yard. She’d retrieved it handily.
Robin strolled up to Chaka, still talking in that relaxed voice about what a good dog Chaka was. Though I was skeptical at the moment, I realized it was true that Chaka, though focused on Moosie, didn’t seem especially hostile. He gave Robin a glance when Robin reached his side, as if to say, “You see what the problem is?”
Robin looked up in the mimosa tree, which had begun to shed its beautiful ferny leaves. “I see her,” he told Chaka. “But I don’t think she can hear you, big guy.”
Peggy must have made record time running out her front door and to the far side of our house to enter through the gate. In a firm voice, she said, “Chaka. Stand down.”
Chaka glanced at Peggy and whined.
Peggy repeated her command, this time sternly.
Chaka sat.
Peggy took a deep breath before she said, “Chaka, come.”
Slowly, his head down, Chaka went to Peggy and sat before her, exactly like a child who’s been caught raiding the cookie jar.
Oh, thank God, I thought. I don’t know what I had feared would happen, exactly; but I was glad it hadn’t.
“Chaka, heel.” Peggy walked to our gate. The dog followed her without hesitation.
Robin and I looked at each other with vast relief. At least one crisis had been quickly resolved.
Now that Chaka had left the yard, Robin began talking to Moosie, who was peering down at us, obviously anxious. I didn’t think Moosie could hear Robin talking, but she could see that Robin was extending a friendly hand to her. She began creeping down the branches, darting looks over to the Herman yard. Since Lulu had not stopped barking and was running up and down the fence, for a second I envied Moosie, who couldn’t hear the noise.
At long last, I heard one of the Cohens emerge. Deborah spoke sharply to Lulu, whose agitation about Chaka had gradually abated. Now that the terrible menace in our backyard had vanished, Lulu consented to go inside, having successfully defended her territory.
No voices, no barking, no agitation. The quiet was a relief. Moosie continued down the tree, until she was close enough for Robin to touch her. He scratched her head. The cat began to purr, and she didn’t stop even when Robin lifted her off the branch and held her to his chest. He began carrying the little cat to our patio door. I was about to follow him when Peggy appeared in her own yard. She waved me over. Reluctantly, I joined her at the fence.
I didn’t know what to say, so I didn’t say anything. Peggy looked … I couldn’t decide. Protective? Abashed? She opened by saying the right thing. “I’m so glad Moosie wasn’t hurt.”
I nodded.
“Ridgebacks are very protective.”
“Moosie is a threat?” I sounded skeptical, which I was.
“In Chaka’s mind. He doesn’t have any issue with your cat until Moosie gets close to our fence.”
I thought of several things to say, and I picked carefully. “The fence is ours, too,” I said. “I understand that Chaka doesn’t know that. But we can’t risk Moosie being killed when she goes outside.”
“Absolutely,” Peggy said, nodding with vigor. “We’ve been working on Chaka’s training ever since we got him.”
“He’s always been a very good dog.” I had to give her that. She looked grateful.
Lena had joined Peggy. She looked miserable. Until now, I had never understood how much the dog meant to them, though I should have. After all, the Cohens had bought Lulu a little British coat last Christmas. And they made her wear it when they walked her in bad weather. Though the Hermans didn’t express their affection in such an elaborate way, they adored Chaka just as much.