Dog Training The American Male (38 page)

Nancy snapped awake.

The two police officers were
about to open fire when a woman staggered from the bushes, her clothing torn,
her neck bleeding.

“Sam, heel!”

The dog halted its attack and
rushed to the woman’s side, sitting docilely by her right foot.

Sobbing hysterically, Nancy dropped
to her knees, hugging the dog around its neck.

The cops holstered their weapons.

* * * *
*

Twelve minutes, three
police cars, and
an ambulance later, two dozen neighbors watched as a bloodied man in a jogging
outfit was handcuffed to a gurney.

Nancy was seated in the back of one
of the squad cars, an EMT tending to the cut along the side of her neck—the dog
never leaving her side.

“It’s just a superficial cut
where he had the blade pressing against your neck. You’ll be okay.”

One of the officers from the
unmarked car joined them. “We called your friend, she’s on her way.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re lucky. We’ve been after
this guy for quite a while.” He knelt by Sam and gave the dog a big hug,
allowing Sam to lick his face. “Good boy. You’re a good doggy.”

Tears flowed down Nancy’s cheeks.
“He saved me. And after I was so mean to him.”

“That’s the great thing about
dogs. Unconditional love.”

A Lexus screeched to a halt by
the curb. Helen and Vinnie pushed through the crowd and ducked under the yellow
police tape, hurrying over to Nancy.

Helen freaked. “Oh my God, are
you alright? Did he . . .?”

“No. Sam saved me.”

“The dog . . .oh,
thank God.” Helen pet Sam, then turned to Vinnie, her emotions chaotic, and
smacked him upside the head. “Why can’t you buy me a big dog?”

* * * *
*

At precisely 12:14
in the morning, the
1976 Volkswagen Van with the two tone white and tangerine-orange paint turned
into the driveway and parked, expelling its driver—a bearded man wearing a
soaking-wet floral shirt and tuxedo pants. He paused to remove something from
the glove box, then slogged to the front door and keyed in.

Jacob found Nancy on the sofa,
cuddled next to Sam. “Vin called, he told me what happened. Are you okay?”

She nodded, then stood and sobbed
against his chest.

The whimpering dog nuzzled his
legs.

“Nance, I swear to God, nothing
happened with me and Ruby. Not tonight, not ever.”

“I know. She called. She told me
about the cancer. Why are you all wet?”

“I saw you speed off in the water
taxi, so I leaped in after you.”

“You leaped into the Intracoastal
from a moving boat? You? Mr. Hydrophobia?”

“I had to catch you. Plus, I needed
to get away from that crazy bitch, Olivia.”

“Olivia Cabot?”

“She hired me to do her father’s
birthday party. I was going to tell you, but I figured we’d see each other aboard
her yacht. Only this gay pet dude spiked my ginger ale with ecstasy, then Olivia
tried to jump my bones.”

“Wait . . . my
boss was trying to sleep with you too?”

“What can I tell you, I’m a gray
pussy magnet. Only it was the craziest thing—every time I tried to get away
from her, I kept getting shocked . . . like I was wearing
Sam’s collar.”

She looked at his wrist. Seeing
the dive watch, she tore it loose and tossed it. “How strange? Maybe you
shouldn’t do her gigs anymore.”

“I only agreed to take it because
I needed the money . . . for this.” He reached into his
pocket and removed the small box he had kept in the Volkswagen’s glove box the
last two weeks. “For you.”

She opened it—revealing a one
carat diamond ring. “Jacob?”

“They say the third time's the charm.
Marry me, Nancy, and I promise to put away my smelly shoes and wipe the toilet
seat . . . and I’ll even buy you a white foofie dog.”

She wiped back tears, then leaned
in and kissed him. “Thanks, but I already have a dog.”

DOG
TRAINING THE AMERICAN HUSBAND

Lesson One: BECOMING A FAMILY

Several dozen
wedding guests filed into the sanctuary, the wedding ceremony minutes from
starting. Helen located the Maid of Honor by the women’s dressing room – Lana dressed
in a pink floral. “How’s it going with the bride?”

 “Nancy needs fifteen more
minutes. Where’s the best-man?”

“In the men’s room, getting Cabot
ready for my mother-in-law.”

* * * *
*

Dr. Vincent Cope
was seated on a
toilet, facing Truman Cabot. The old man’s back was pressed against the stall
door, his dress pants unraveled in a pile around his ankles, exposing his silk
boxer shorts.

Peeling the paper from the back
of the colostomy bag’s doughnut-shaped rubber housing, Vin applied a small
amount of paste, and then pressed the adhesive in place against the exposed
flesh of Truman’s lower left belly.

The retired millionaire fidgeted.
“Are you sure your father had a colostomy bag?”

“Yes. Along with the rest of Ma’s
lovers. Now hold still while I snap the colostomy bag in place. Jesus, Truman,
did you have to fill it with so much urine?”

“How the hell else will she see
it when I walk Nancy down the aisle?”

Spencer entered the bathroom. The
dog trainer washed his hands, then checked his breath again, readying himself
for his next kiss. “Ruby Kleinhenz. Best-in-show. God, I feel like a teen
again.”

Suddenly Spencer realized he was
not alone . . .

“Slow down! You’re hurting me!”

“Damn thing’s hard as a rock. I
need to drain it if you expect me to slip it back inside your pants.”

“Don’t jerk it! It’ll explode all
over your face.”

Glancing in the mirror, Spencer saw
the old man’s head bouncing against the inside of the stall door.

The dog trainer gagged, and then
hurried out.

* * * *
*

Sandra Beach sat
in the cramped
dressing room, drying her own tears as she listened to her youngest daughter. “We
wanted to tell you, but what was the point? We adopted you when you were only
eight weeks old. Lana was only two. How did you find out?”

“Dad told me on his death bed. He
apologized for leaving Lana a larger inheritance. He said it was done . . . because
she was
his
.”

“Yes, you received less money,
but that was because we paid back all your college loans . . . not
to mention the down payments your father and I forfeited from two cancelled
wedding ceremonies. As far as Lana being his, your father was delirious; they
had him on heavy doses of morphine. He loved you just as much as your sister
and was so proud when you earned all your degrees. He was your father, Nancy.
Look at your face—you ruined your make-up.”

Nancy dries her eyes. “I love
you, mom. I guess this wasn’t the best place to bring all this up.”

“I should say not. Thank God Jacob’s
a stable man or I’d really be worried about you. Now when can I expect some
grandbabies?”

* * * *
*

Rabbi Solomon Jian
stood at the pulpit,
the groom and best-man to his left.

The music began.

As Maid of Honor, Lana walked
down the aisle first, followed by Helen, a bridesmaid. Rabbi Jian's eyes widened
as he witnessed a second bridesmaid stride down the aisle in pumps, her dress
barely containing the female bodybuilder’s two-hundred and thirty pound
muscular frame.

Next up was the flower girl. An
inebriated Carmella Cope puttered slowly down the aisle in her motorized
wheelchair, dropping rose petals from a basket as she veered drunkenly from
side to side, ramming guests and knocking over flower arrangements on both
sides of the aisle.

Vinnie guided her into her
parking space in the first row, taking the keys.

The music changed, announcing the
Bride. The crowd stood.

Nancy was escorted slowly down
the aisle by Mr. Cabot, the old man’s pants bulging on his left side from the
fake colostomy bag.

Jacob leaned over to whisper in
his brother’s ear. “Vin, have you got the ring?”

“On the way.”

Sam followed the bride down the
aisle, carrying a pillow in his mouth, the ring held in place by a white
ribbon.

“Nicely played, sir.”

“Thank you. Have you have got
your vows?”

Jacob’s expression dropped.
“Vows?”

The guests on the left side of
the aisle shrieked as they were doused by a fountain of urine—Mr. Cabot’s
colostomy bag having sprung a leak.

From the front row, Carmella Cope
eyeballed Truman like a bee to honey.

“Your wedding vows, Jacob! You
and Nancy agreed to make up your own vows.”

“Shh, it’s okay. I’ll just quote
her some John Lennon. I’ll open with,
‘A dream you dream alone is only a
dream. A dream you dream together is reality.’
Then I’ll hit her with,
‘Love
is like a flower; you’ve got to let it grow.’
I’ll end with,
‘and we all
shine on . . . like the moon and the stars and the sun.’
or
do you prefer,
‘I’m not going to change the way I look or the way I feel to
conform to anything. I've always been a freak.’”

“You are a freak.” Vin searched
his tuxedo jacket pocket and extracted a wedding card. Turning his back to the
crowd, he tore open the envelope, pocketed the check, and then shoved the
“sentiment” in Jacob’s pants pocket without reading it.

“Wanda picked it out for me; I’m
sure it’s bleeding sentiment.”

* * * *
*

Having finished his
Rabbinical duties, Solomon
Jian turned to the young couple. “And now Nancy and Jacob would like to
exchange vows they’ve written especially for this blessed occasion. Nancy?”

Nancy removed a slip of paper
from her cleavage. “To my best-friend and partner: Today we continue a journey
that began only a short time ago. You are the man of my dreams, my one true
soul mate. I eagerly anticipate the chance for us to grow together, getting to
know the husband you will become, falling in love a little bit more each and
every day. You are the Y who empowers me.”

“Lovely. Jacob?”

Jacob removed the wedding card
his brother had slipped in his pocket fifteen minutes earlier. “Hickory Dickory
Doc, we hope she likes your cock. If she likes to screw, Congrats to you,
Hickory Dickory Doc.”

The Rabbi’s jaw dropped.

Nancy smiled. “Well, I would have
preferred a John Lennon quote, but I do like your cock.”

“That’s what I told Vin but he
insisted I take the card.”

Helen shot her husband a look to
kill.

Vinnie snatched back the card.
“Beautiful sentiment. Empowering, don’t you think? Rabbi, you, uh, want to
finish the ceremony.”

“Uh, yes. I now pronounce you man
and wife. You may kiss the bride.”

* * * *
*

The guests were
seated at tables
situated around a small dance floor. The band played a hokey rendition of
Adele’s,
“Someone Like You,”
as Jacob and Nancy Cope took their first
dance together as husband and wife.

Nancy glanced at the table on her
left where Truman Cabot was seated next to her mother-in-law, the millionaire
offering her a ‘thumbs-up.’ Spencer was seated at the next table over, he and
Ruby holding hands.

“Jacob, I need to ask you a
question. The whole time I was training Sam . . . did you
know I was using the dog training techniques on you?”

“Not at first.”

“When did you start to get suspicious?
Was it the sex? The walks in the park? The exercise routine?”

“I think it was just before you
had Sam neutered; the time you hired the mobile dog groomer to come over and
bathe the dog. For days my eyes were tearing at work; that’s when I realized
you paid them to fumigate my van for fleas.”

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

“It needed it.”

“I know.”

“I’ll blow you on the drive to
the airport.”

“Cool.”

Nancy stopped dancing, her right
shoe sliding in white icing. “Jacob, where’s the dog?”

“The dog?” He searched the room,
his eyes settling on the dessert spread—Sam’s front paws on the table, the
German Shepherd eating the wedding cake. “Aw, hell, it’s ruined. Vin’s kids
were supposed to be watching him.”

“It’s okay.”

“Stupid dog’s gonna shit his
brains out. Remind me to tell Vin to keep him chained outside tonight.”

Nancy kissed her husband. “Don’t
tell him. He’ll figure it out in the morning.”

THE END

Contact L. A. Knight by email at
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