Dog Lived (and So Will I) Read Online Free PDF Page A

vacuum cleaner imitation and turned to the noise at the door.
    Before I could even say hello, Seamus growled. A low, slow growl that I had not heard in our week together.
    “Seamus, no. It’s okay. It’s fine, buddy.” I tried to sound relaxed, in control.
    Chris stepped back. “Is he going to bite me?”
    “I don’t think…” I didn’t get to finish. Seamus howled loudly, looking from me to Chris and back again, increasing the volume and urgency of his howl. Chris stayed frozen at the front door, five stairs up from the sunken living room where Seamus and I were. When Seamus bolted in Chris’s direction, I dropped what I was holding—bruschetta and cheese remains once again crashing to the floor—and lunged for Seamus’s collar. I caught him at the third step. Chris had backed all the way up against the door. Seamus strained at his collar, howling up the stairs toward Chris.
    “Sorry. This maybe wasn’t the best introduction,” I shouted above the raspy howl.
    I pulled Seamus off the stairs, and hunched over, holding him by the collar, walked him back into the den where his bed and toys were located. I put him in his bed.
    “Seamus, sit.” I pointed a finger in his face, which always means “I’m being serious.” Any dog knows this. Except a beagle.
    Seamus looked away. He looked around me, watching for another appearance by Chris, but he did not leave his bed. I spread the fingers on my right hand, palm outward, in front of his face. “Stay.” He shrunk back and turned his glaring eyes away from me. “Stay,” I repeated, for good measure and to verbalize my hope.
    “Okay, Chris, let’s try this again. Come on into the den.”
    “You are kidding, right?” Chris said, remaining glued in the stairwell.
    “He’s not going to attack you. He’s a beagle.”
    “You keep saying that. But all I hear is ‘dog.’ He’s a dog.”
    “It’s okay.” This was wishful thinking only. I had no idea.
    Chris walked into the room, and while Seamus growled again, he did not come out of his bed and he stopped when I corrected him. When Chris and I sat on the couch, Seamus came over, quietly and a bit more calmly, sniffing Chris’s pants and paying no attention to me. Chris petted the dog’s head, and I noticed he looked about as comfortable as I did when people forced me to hold or coo over their babies. But, okay, there was no growling or fighting. And neither one looked like they’d be biting the other anytime soon.
    “Isn’t he cute?” I ventured.
    Chris widened his eyes at me. “You heard him growl at me, right?”
    “Well, he didn’t know you, and you walked right into the house. I think it’s good that he growled.”
    “Maybe, but it’s still going to take me a while to get past that to ‘cute.’”
    “Well, you two get to know each other and I’ll get us some wine.” I stood up and went into the kitchen. Seamus followed me.
    “He’s not that interested in getting to know me. Kinda rude, don’t you think?” Chris said.
    I laughed. “Dog has no manners.” I opened a bottle of wine and poured two glasses, at which point the dog lost interest and roamed out of the kitchen.
    I handed a glass to Chris and sat next to him on the couch. We clinked our glasses together. “To another great weekend of decadence,” I said.
    “Indeed.”
    We sipped and smiled and kissed. Our weekend had begun.
    After a few minutes, Chris put his glass down. “I’m sufficiently emboldened now. Where’s this rascally dog?”
    I looked about. And where was Seamus? He was always in the same room with me, except when…
    “Seamus!” Much too late, I remembered the mess in the living room. I jumped from the couch and raced to the living room. Seamus was down on his belly, with his snout and one paw reaching underneath the couch. He was also lying in the tomato-garlic formerly bruschetta mix.
    “Oh jeez. Seamus.” I clapped my hands. “Stop!” He stopped the pawing and sat upright, shifting his weight