Page 20 of A Spot of Trouble
She swallowed hard, and Sprinkles slinked out of the room. So much for loyalty. “I didn’t antagonize him. I simply told him I thought he was mean for not letting his Dalmatian have a tiny bite of cupcake.”
Joe took a sip of his beer and waited for her to crack and say more.
Dang it. Opal was right. Joe was frighteningly good at this. “I also might have told him that Cinder was obviously short for Cinderella since the only reason he kept her around was to do his bidding.”
“And there we have it.”
Violet sighed. “Oh, please. I know you agree with me. I’ve seen you give Sprinkles food right off of your plate. Just because Cinder is a ‘working dog’—”
Joe held up a hand. “Wait. Is Cinder Sam’s official partner?”
“I suppose so.” She shrugged, and then remembered that Joe had been trying to get the TBPD to allow him to get a canine partner for years.
But that was different, wasn’t it? Police dogs actually chased criminals, found illegal drugs, and prevented bombings. What did fire dogs do? It wasn’t as if they could hold a fire hose with their paws.
“I wonder if he’d be willing to give me some advice.” Joe frowned. “Just so you know, working dogs shouldn’t be given treats while they’re on duty.”
Now Violet was the one who probably had an angry little vein throbbing in her neck. “You’re completely missing the point. Sam needs to be stopped.”
“If you’re upset about the ticket, you should have made it clear that you don’t actually represent the senior center in any official capacity.” Joe drained his beer and reached for another cupcake.
“What was I supposed to do—let him ticket a bunch of ninety year olds?” No way. Over her dead body. “It’s not like it’s a real ticket, anyway.”
Joe’s brow furrowed. “What are you talking about? Yes, it is.”
“Hardly.” She reached for the ticket and crumpled it into a ball. “If Sam Nash thinks he can scare me with a little slip of pink paper, he doesn’t know who he’s dealing with.”
“Violet.” Joe dropped his head and sighed.
“Don’t worry about me. I know exactly what I’m doing.” But did she, though? Did she really? “All I need is for you and the rest of the force to bring your A game this Saturday.”
Until then, Violet would simply have to take care of things herself.
***
Sam wasn’t exactly sure when he’d started letting Cinder make his bed in the mornings. It had sort of just happened, and now it was simply part of their daily routine. When Sam’s alarm went off at 5 a.m., he stumbled out of his king-size bed and headed to the bathroom while Cinder grabbed hold of the sheet with her teeth and pulled it back in place. Next, she dragged the duvet over the sheet, andvoilà, the bed was made.
He’d never set out to teach the dog to do household chores, but Cinder was exceptionally smart. And observant. Like most Dalmatians, she was also extremely energetic.
That was the thing most people failed to understand about the breed. Sure, their spots were striking. And those Disney movies? Cute as pie. But Dalmatians were sensitive and highly spirited animals. Their sharp intellect made them quite trainable, but it also meant that Dalmatians were smart enough to get into all sorts of creative trouble if they didn’t have a suitable outlet for all that boundless energy. Case in point: Sprinkles.
When Sam first brought Cinder home from the shelter where she’d been living for nearly three months, she’d been a nervous wreck. Whatever had happened to her before being rescued by the good Samaritans at the shelter had left its mark. The Dalmatian had been afraid of house flies, ceiling fans, doorways, and the television. It didn’t matter what sort of programming Sam landed on—even the Hallmark Channel sent her scurrying for cover beneath the coffee table.
In the beginning, Cinder’s training had nothing to do with fire safety. The idea of having her as a partner hadn’t even crossed his mind. He just wanted to help her to be a happy, well-adjusted pup. He’d started out by offering her a cookie every time she happened to poke her cute little heart-shaped nose out from beneath the table when the television was turned on. By the end of the day, she felt comfortable venturing out from her hiding place if he kept the volume on the flat-screen turned down low. Come Saturday night, Cinder was ready to sprawl on the sofa with a bucket of movie butter popcorn for Netflix and chill.
So of course Sam had been keen on teaching her new things. Within a month, it became clear she had the makings for an excellent fire safety dog, plus he loved the idea of taking her to work with him every day. She was his best friend in the whole world. Eventually, she’d become his work partner too. Sam trusted his Dalmatian with his life. He’d sacrifice himself for her in a heartbeat, and he knew she would do the same.
Still, Sam couldn’t seem to shake Violet’s words from his consciousness as he leaned against the doorframe of his bedroom, toothbrush dangling from his mouth while Cinder made his bed.
She’s obviously deeply unhappy, having to stand beside you and act like a robot all day long.
It was nonsense. There wasn’t an ounce of truth to it, but Sam couldn’t help but wince as Cinder pulled the duvet over his bedsheets and then trotted toward the kitchen to turn on his coffee maker.
He’d had nothing to do with the bed-making. The Dalmatian had simply seen Sam do it himself enough times to make an impression on her. But he was guilty with respect to the coffee trick. It had only taken him three mornings to train Cinder to rise up on her hind legs and press the power button with one of her front paws. Sam loaded up the coffee maker with fresh grounds and a filter before he went to bed every night, and by the time he finished brushing his teeth in the morning, he had a fresh pot of French roast waiting for him. It honestly wasn’t that big a deal. Heck, most women thought it was cute.
Somehow, Sam sensed that Violet March would disagree.
He wasn’t sure why her opinion should matter. Itdidn’tmatter.
