Page 62 of A Spot of Trouble
“What are you doing, Violet?” Ethel asked, eyes comically wide behind the lenses of her purple glasses.
“You’re not really going to knock, are you?” Opal said.
Mavis didn’t say a word, but she was trembling enough to rival Nibbles the Chihuahua, which was really saying something. The tiny dog leapt out of her blanket nest and began pacing back and forth the full length of the walker basket.
Violet raised her hand, poised to knock on the elusive Larry Sims’s door. “You all thought it was cute to meddle in my personal life, so maybe it’s time I meddle in yours.”
“Fine. I lied, okay?” Ethel blurted. “There was nothing wrong with the sprinklers. Go ahead and call Sam and have him throw me in the slammer.”
Violet bit back a smile. “No one’s going to jail, Ethel. Particularly not you, because I have a feeling I know who the mastermind behind yesterday’s stunt was.”
She pinned Mavis with a look.
“What?” Mavis’s hand fluttered to her chest like a nervous bird. “Surely you don’t mean me.”
Opal shifted her walker so that she was squared off with Mavis. “Oh, Mavis. Go ahead and tell her the truth. All of it.”
Violet only waited a split second to see if Mavis would fess up. It didn’t really matter whether or not she did, because Violet had already made up her mind.
She gave the door four knocks in rapid succession.
Opal and Ethel gasped in horror, Nibbles yipped, and Sprinkles dropped into a play bow. Violet half-expected Mavis to flee, but she paused to cast a curious glance at the Dalmatian and by the time she prepared her walker for an emergency retreat, the door swung open.
Larry Sims stood on the threshold in all his cardiganed splendor, gaze swiveling from woman to spotted dog, to woman, to tiny trembling dog, to the other two women, clearly trying to figure out why there was an odd collection of humans and animals gathered outside his room.
“Hi.” Violet held up her hand in a wave. “I’m Violet. This is my Dalmatian, Sprinkles, and these are my friends, Mavis, Opal, and Ethel.”
“H-hello, there,” Larry said. A fluffy gray cat with piercing blue eyes appeared at his feet and began winding its way around his legs. “This is Skippy.”
“Skippy is lovely. And wow, she doesn’t seem very afraid of dogs.” Violet bent to run a hand over the Persian kitty’s soft, slender back.
“Oh, Skippy loves dogs. I had a Chihuahua for many years, and they were the best of friends.” Larry smiled at Nibbles, and miraculously, the little dog stopped trembling. “Who does this little sweetheart belong to?”
“Me.” Mavis lit up like a sparkler on the Fourth of July. “She belongs to me. My name is Mavis.”
This was going even more smoothly than Violet had dared to hope. Yes, she’d aimed to teach her friends a lesson about meddling, but she’d also wanted to get Mavis and her secret crush to actually speak to one another. It was the least she could do after Mavis had smuggled the copy of theGazettewith Adeline March’s picture on the front page out of the library…even if Violet still hadn’t been able to get her father to tell her where her mother’s Dalmatian puppy had come from.
“Mavis was wondering if you might like to join her in the lobby right now for group trivia,” Violet said, and with a wink she added, “It’s kind of likeJeopardy!minus all the Geico commercials.”
“That lizard.” Mavis rolled her eyes.
“Skippy likes to hiss at that green nuisance,” Larry said.
Then he buttoned his cardigan up to the top and fell into step beside Mavis as the seniors hurried back to the lobby. Trivia wasn’t set to start for another twenty minutes, so of course Opal, Ethel, and Mavis were warning Larry that they were already late.
Nope, I don’t think so.Violet smiled to herself and bent to ruffle Sprinkles’s ears.Something tells me Larry Sims is right on time.
Chapter 14
The next morning proceeded exactly as the previous one had in Sam’s quiet, tranquil little cottage on the beach. Except things were no longer so quiet. Or tranquil, for that matter.
Like the day before, Cinder opted not to make the bed. Nor did she paw at the button of the coffee maker to switch it on. This aversion to household chores continued for the remainder of the week. Sam didn’t mind either of those omissions from Cinder’s morning routine. Of course he didn’t. This was, in fact, what he’d wanted all along.
Sam had never intended for his Dalmatian to make his bed. She’d just picked up the behavior on her own after watching Sam straighten his covers every morning. And he could certainly push a button to brew his own coffee. That particular trick had always been more about aesthetics than necessity. Translation: it was cute. Even Sam enjoyed a cute dog trick now and then.
It hadn’t seemed so cute after Violet accused him of treating his Dalmatian like the canine version of Cinderella. So, sure, he could live without it.
Teaching a dog to unlearn a behavior was more challenging than most people realized. Old dogs, new tricks and all that. Dogs were creatures of habit. They liked routines and thrived best in environments where they knew exactly what was expected of them. The easiest way to get a dog to stop engaging in a certain behavior—like turning on a coffee maker, for instance—was to replace the action with something else. To trade one behavior for another. That way, the pup would better understand the trainer’s expectations.
