EPILOGUE

 

“Would you stop laughing? What kind of dog owner ridicules their own dogs?”

I wiped the tears from my eyes.

“What kind of dog owner dresses up their dogs in silly getups like that?” I countered.

Jillian and I were strolling arm in arm along the rows of vendors set up behind the main storefront at Greentree Gardens. At the moment, Jillian was holding both leashes while I carried a number of bags. It felt as though we had purchased something from every single tent we had passed.

Sherlock and Watson, typically found in front of our procession whenever we went on our walks, trailed behind us on this particular day. Looking miserable. If ever a dog could throw a human a dirty look, it’d be Sherlock. Since Halloween seemed to be celebrated the entire month of October in PV, and since I’ve seen quite a few people also dressed in costumes, I had suggested that perhaps we should get costumes.

Not for me. Don’t be silly. For the dogs.

Jillian had thought it was a delightful idea. She had instantly found several websites that catered to canine costumes. She picked out a couple she thought were adorable, I paid for them, and I got to watch Jillian put them on the dogs.

Sherlock was dressed up as … Sherlock Holmes. He was wearing a small deerstalker hat, complete with a strap that went under his chin—he tried every ten seconds or so to dislodge the irksome accessory—and a tweed cape that stretched down his elongated torso almost to his hind end. Like the hat, it too had elastic straps to keep the costume in place.

Watson was wearing a Coachman’s style bowler hat, a brown tweed ‘jacket’ that encompassed the majority of her torso, and had a tiny cane attached to the left side of her jacket. She, too, had tried to dislodge the cumbersome attire that we had dressed her in, but at least she only tried every minute or so as opposed to Sherlock’s incessant shaking. Watson kept throwing me traitorous looks, as though she believed I no longer loved her.

“You really need to stop laughing,” Jillian whispered, looking apologetically down at the dogs. “They’re making me feel bad for suggesting we buy them costumes.”

“Oh, they’re fine. I thought it was a clever idea, dressing them as their namesakes.”

Vance and Tori appeared, leading Anubis on a leash. The elegant German Shepherd, also outfitted in a costume, looked none too happy with his owners, either. Anubis was also dressed as his namesake, complete with headdress, golden chest plate, and an intricate golden blanket running down his back.

Everyone oohed and aahed over the dogs. We laughed, we joked, and we had a good time. Walking alongside Jillian, with her hand in mine, felt good--natural. I had believed for far too long that I would never be happy again after my beloved Samantha died. I had thought that my life was over, that I had nothing to live for. Looking down at the two dogs reluctantly following behind us, and then over at Jillian, who smiled every time she looked my way, I began to feel normal again. I was surprised to realize that I had started looking forward to waking up every morning.

Here, in this small rinky-dink town of Pomme Valley, I truly felt like I was home.