In Dog We Trust (Golden Retriever Mysteries) Read Online Free PDF Page B

carpet, and I sneezed. “Come on, boy, let’s go.” I reached a hand under the bed to stroke the top of his head. “I know, you had a rough day yesterday. I did, too. But you’ve got to go out for your walk.”
    I looked up at the clock on my bedside table. “And I have to get to class soon. So that means we have to go walk now.”
    He just lay there looking at me. I grabbed the metal chain around his neck and pulled. He splayed his front paws out to slow the motion, but I knocked them inward with my other hand and kept pulling. By the time I had his head out from under the bed he’d given up and was moving forward under his own steam.
    Before I could get up, he was climbing on top of me, trying to lick my face. “Get off of me, you big moose!” I said, laughing. “This is all some big game to you, isn’t it?”
    He took off down the hall while I was still getting up, one hand on his leash, and it was like a slapstick routine, me tumbling and stumbling as I struggled to get my footing while being dragged along by a big golden beast.  It was no use being angry with Rochester; as soon as you got the steam going, he’d do something to make you laugh.
    We got out the front door, and stopped in the courtyard while I turned and locked up. The gate to the driveway was still closed, and Rochester and I were confined in a narrow area together. Without warning, he jumped on me, placing his front paws on my stomach and his big head just below my face. The move was enough to knock me back against the door.
    For a moment I thought he was begging me not to make him go out again, where the bad people had hurt his mommy—but then I realized it was just another game. “Get down, you big moose,” I said, and I pushed down on the top of his head. I’d swear he snickered at me as I opened the gate, and then he took off at Indy 500 pace for the end of the driveway.
    A walk with Rochester was a lot different from the walks I took myself. He powered down the street, at the end of the retractable leash, stopping frequently to sniff or pee. Just when I caught up, he took off again. I’d only brought one plastic bag with me, but he didn’t care, and left samples of his handiwork in three separate spots. After the first, I’d tossed the bag, so for the second and third drops I had to stand around looking guilty and hoping we could escape unnoticed.
    The sun had just risen, and there was frost on the lawns, sparkling in the early light. All around us, I heard River Bend awakening—courtyard gates opening and closing, mothers calling kids, car doors slamming and engines starting up. It was shaping up to be a cool, cloudless day; a bluebird swooped into an oak tree ahead of us, and a squirrel chattered as he jumped from tree to tree.
    I was struck with a terrible sadness. Caroline would not see this day. She would never walk Rochester again on a crisp morning like this, filled with the promise of spring. She would never drive down to the station in Yardley for her train to Philadelphia, or come home in the gathering twilight to the welcome of her dog.
    It was amazing how fast a life could come apart. Within a year, I’d turned forty, then lost my father, my job, my freedom, my marriage and, as part of the divorce, my home in Silicon Valley. I’d struggled to put my life back together—but Caroline wouldn’t have that chance. There were some body blows you couldn’t recover from.
    We saw a few neighbors, and waved, but everyone seemed to be in a hurry to leave for work. It wasn’t the same as in the evening, when people stopped to say hello or share information. Rochester and I did a big circuit of the neighborhood, staying away from the area where Caroline had been shot, and returned to my driveway, where I picked up the newspaper.
    Rochester sprawled on the kitchen floor, panting, and I refilled his water bowl. He jumped up, lapping the water and spilling half of it on the tile floor, then settled down again to watch me.
    While