Putting on the Dog Read Online Free PDF

arrival recorded on film.
    I plopped down at one of the round tables, noticing that the brightly colored tablecloths were printed with cartoonish images of cats and dogs. The napkins, made of the same fabric, were encircled with silver napkin rings, each one in the shape of a different dog. I checked out the different place settings, recognizing a dachshund, a poodle, and a beagle.
    I was puzzling over mine, trying to figure out if it was a Corgi or a werewolf, when I heard someone say, “Mind if I sit here?”
    I glanced up at a tall, muscular man in his late twenties, his hair bleached a startling shade of white and painstakingly gelled so that it pointed upward like Bart Simpson’s. He wore a tight T-shirt, even tighter jeans, and a gold eyebrow ring.
    “Please do.”
    As he sat down, he, too, noticed the tablecloth.
    “Just look at all these cute little doggies and kitties,” he cooed. “Aren’t they too precious ? The effect is so wonderfully kitsch!” He leaned toward me. “I just hope they’re not serving Purina Dog Chow. Especially at five hundred dollars a plate.”
    “At least they’re not making us eat out of plastic food bowls.” I gestured toward the fine white china.
    He held up his plate and examined it. “Now that you mention it, this does look suspiciously like bone china.”
    I laughed. “Thank goodness I’ve found somebody with a sense of humor! Otherwise, I don’t know how I’d get through this evening.”
    “Honey, come to enough of these and you’ll start bringing along your knitting.” He put down the plate and held out his hand. “I’m Chess LaMont.”
    “I’m Jessie Popper.” As I shook his hand, I said, “ ‘Chess’?”
    “Don’t tell anybody, but I started out in life as a ‘Chester,’ if you can believe that. But when I left my hometown of Crabapple, Iowa, I left behind the ‘T-E-R.’ I picked up the extra ‘S’ when I crossed the Mississippi, and believe me, honey, I never looked back.”
    He sighed. “I know what you’re thinking. You’re probably like every other New Yorker. You don’t believe that anybody comes from Iowa. You might not even believe there is such a place.”
    “I’ve been to Iowa,” I said. “I liked it.”
    He shook his head dismissively. “Sweetie, you can have it. That’s one place that looks best from the window of an airplane—growing smaller and smaller every second.”
    I smiled. “I guess you’re not one of those people who romanticizes the good old days.”
    He pretended to shudder. “I’m sure there are people in my hometown who think I’ve died because they’ve seen so little of me since I graduated from high school.”
    “How long ago was that?”
    “Would you believe ten years?” He grimaced. “I’m already getting wrinkles.”
    “I don’t see any.”
    “That’s because you’re too polite. I can tell just by looking at you that you’re one of those kind, sincere types. Which probably explains why I’ve never run into you out here in the Bromptons before.”
    “This is the first time I’ve ever come to one of these,” I admitted. “I’m just here for the dog show.”
    “You’re so lucky! I hope your little darling wins.”
    I didn’t even stop to contemplate the irony of either Max or Lou being referred to as a “little darling.”
    “I’m not showing a dog,” I said. “I’m actually a veterinarian, and I’m going to be standing at a booth, answering questions. It’s called ‘Ask The Vet.’ ”
    “Then you’re doubly lucky! You get to be part of the fun without all that pressure. The shampooing, the brushing, the fluffing...then there’s all the work that goes into getting the dog ready.” Chess’s expression tightened. “You know, I wanted to enter Zsa Zsa. She’s a Havanese, the sweetest little angel this side of heaven.”
    “Havanese?” I repeated. “They’re part of the Bichon family, aren’t they?
    “You’re familiar with them?” he asked excitedly. “They’re so