Page 76 of Twist of Fate
“You named a pit bull Princess?”
“I was eight! And excuse me.” I tilt my head to the side. “Why can’t a pit bull be a princess?”
He shrugs. “I don’t know, really. I’ve never actually seen one in real life. They’re restricted here, I believe.”
I click my tongue. “Really? That’s unfortunate. They’re a misunderstood breed. Princess was incredibly sweet and gentle.”
“Why didn’t you get a dog after you left home?” he asks.
“Oh, well—” I try to think of a reason, but then I realize I don’t have to make excuses for him anymore. “Theo doesn’t like dogs. Hates them actually—the hair, the responsibility, and the attention they steal away from him.”
He opens his mouth to say something, but he notices my eyes go wide as I point past his shoulder. “Oh my god, I think we’re here.”
He shifts in his seat as we pass a large sign, and sure enough, the bus starts to turn off the road.
“Do you think he’d notice if I smuggled one of the dogs onto the bus?”
“If you mean one of the best sheepdog trainers in Ireland, yes, I think he’d notice you trying to steal one of his dogs.”
“Damn it.”
“They have a gift shop, though. You might get a sheepdog plushie as a consolation prize.”
I shrug. “I guess that’ll do.”
* * *
“Oh my god, I want one.”
“No.”
“Do you think if I asked really nicely?”
My mom lets out a weary sigh. “No.”
“Mom.” I feign a whine as I watch the border collies dart across the field, forming a perfect circle. “You’re literally ruining the best day of my life here.”
“Or preventing you from being arrested and thrown in an Irish jail for theft?”
“Whatever.”
These dogs are amazing.
I watch the whole demonstration with my mouth wide open, holding my phone in front of me to record the whole thing because, hello, dogs? They dash back and forth, perfectly in sync, wagging their tails as if they were made for this.
I’ve seen dogs performing on TV, but usually, they respond to verbal commands. These border collies, however, are trained using a whistle. It’s crazy. Each combination and pitch of sound represents a different command, and they all follow it with military precision.
When it’s finished, I’m not proud to admit it, but I seriously consider pushing past all the old people in front of me to reach the dogs first.
Is it mean?
Yes, but I already mentioned that I wasn’t proud of it.
Princess passed away while I was in college. My mom told me she didn’t want to adopt another dog because of her travel schedule, but I think that after Saul, she just couldn’t bear the thought of losing anyone else.
It’s been so long since I last petted a dog that I nearly sigh in bliss when I finally approach the black-and-white collie. I kneel down to pet his head and ears. He leans into the touch, as if he’s being rewarded for a job well done. His name is Archer, and according to his owner, he’s the oldest dog here and will be retiring soon. You can see gray hairs around his nose and mouth, and after a moment, he settles onto the ground and rolls over.
I do the same (minus the rolling-over part) and sit in front of him with my legs crossed. Other people from our bus tour come and go, but I stay, stroking his long fur as he drifts off to sleep.
