Hair of the Dog Read Online Free PDF

third time the pom-pom on the end of her tail whacked me across the face, I banished her to the backseat.
    At Graceland, we joined the line of cars that snaked down the long driveway, inching slowly forward to the pickup zone. Faith had her nose pressed against the window and was whining softly under her breath. She loves kids, and I knew she was dying to get out and play.
    Finally I relented and put down the window. Tail wagging happily, Faith climbed up and hung her front legs out over the door. It says in our breed standard that Poodles are supposed to be elegant and dignified, but I was quite sure that the people who put that thing together had never met Faith.
    Enthusiastic, irrepressible, certainly. Maybe even charming. But elegant and dignified? Not on a bet.
    With the puffs on her legs, the big coat of mane hair, the tiny colored rubber bands that gathered her topknot hair into ponytails to hold it out of the way, and the ear hair that was wrapped and similarly banded, even I had to admit my dog was quite a sight. Certainly enough of the mothers stared. The children, being more accepting of something different, seemed to find her entertaining. Faith managed to lick at least a dozen faces before she finally found her own child.
    From the way Davey and Faith greeted each other, rolling end over end in a tangle of legs and hair on the backseat, you’d have thought they’d been separated for months rather than a matter of hours. There are times when I’m doing the seemingly never-ending job of looking after Faith’s coat, and I think back to the day Aunt Peg dropped her off and wonder whatever made me take on such a responsibility. Then there are moments like these, when I realize how quickly and completely the Poodle had become a part of our family, and I know how truly lucky we were to find such a wonderful companion.
    The three of us spent the rest of the afternoon at the park. I threw the Frisbee with Davey and the tennis ball for Faith; and when the two of them entertained each other, I sat in the shade and thought about Barry Turk. I hadn’t known him well, and I hadn’t much liked what I had known. I couldn’t mourn his passing, but I could feel a sense of regret for a life needlessly cut short. Even Barry Turk deserved better than that.
    I found myself wondering what would become of Barry’s operation. Would Beth try to carry on by herself, or would she find another position elsewhere? The dogs could, of course, be sent to other handlers. But what about Alicia? Where would she go?
    As things turned out, I got a chance to ask her. Aunt Peg called Friday morning and requested a favor.
    â€œSure,” I said without thinking, then immediately regretted it. With Aunt Peg, it’s much wiser to ask questions first. “What?”
    â€œDavey’s at camp, right? I need you to drive up to Poughkeepsie and pick up a Standard Poodle for me. I think I mentioned her at the barbecue. She’s booked to be bred to Joker and apparently she’s just come in season. Her owner lives in Maryland, so I told Rona I’d take care of things.”
    Joker was Aunt Peg’s new stud dog, a youngster she was bringing along slowly. I knew she was eager for him to be bred to some nice bitches.
    â€œI figure it will take you an hour to get there and an hour to get back,” she was saying. “You don’t need to pick up Davey until one. There should be plenty of time.”
    That was the danger in letting Aunt Peg know too much about my schedule. Wherever she saw empty blocks of time, she couldn’t resist trying to fill them up for me.
    â€œWhy don’t you go get her?” I asked reasonably.
    â€œI’m not the one whose Poodle is sitting home growing coat,” Aunt Peg replied tartly. “Tory’s entered this weekend in New Jersey. She needs a bath, and a blow-dry, not to mention scissoring. I’ll be busy all day.”
    Preparing a Standard Poodle to