Things I am not allowed to do while Miss Josie works in the garden:
- Steal and unroll a ball of twine.
- Run around the yard with scissors in my mouth.
- Bump into Miss Josie and push her into one of the rose bushes.
- Eat clippings from the rose bushes.
- Eat cuttings from the peony bushes.
- Eat clippings from any of the bushes.
- Knock over the trash can full of clippings.
- Relieve myself on the trash can full of clippings.
- Lick Miss Josie’s face while she’s weeding.
- Chew a hole in Miss Josie’s favorite gardening glove.
“Maybe we need to take a walk,” she said. “You’re driving me crazy.”
We set off walking through the town of Beaver, and I licked everyone I met. In my opinion, there were no strangers, only friends I hadn’t licked yet. And all the people out walking on the main street were fair game.
I licked people having savory pastries outside Café Kolache. They tasted like sausage and happiness. I licked people at Two Rivers Olive Oil. They smelled like garlic. Yummy.
I licked the window at Zugliani’s Hair Design. Ms. Nicole, the nice lady who worked there, came out and slipped me a doggie biscuit.
“Hi, Capone,” she said. “Are you being a good boy today?”
Good was a relative term, and open to interpretation. Miss Josie summed it up nicely.
“He’s being…Capone-ish,” she said.
Ms. Nicole laughed. She had beautiful hair the color of lavender. I licked her hand, which tasted like shampoo, and we continued down the street.
Nearly everyone we passed knew Miss Josie and said “Hello.” Each time it happened, her smile got a little wider. Miss Josie needed this.
When we reached the middle of the block, I jumped up and tried to lick the plate of a person eating a salad at Sproutz, but they had lightning quick reflexes, and I didn’t even get a taste. But I felt better when a kind girl named Mackenzie, who worked at the donut shop, told me I was cute. Then Kristin from Don’s Deli came outside and gave me a slice of capicola. If heaven and happiness had a meaty Italian love child, it would be capicola.
I pulled Miss Josie toward Kretchmar’s Bakery, wanting to see the sweet delights displayed in the front window. I got up on my hind legs and pressed my nose to the glass, but she refused to let me go inside. What a party pooper.
When I tried to steal a ball from a child in front of Castle Toys, Miss Josie decided she’d had enough walking for the day and led me back to the shop. She locked me in my crate and went back outside to finish her yard work.
I flopped down in annoyance. What an infuriatingly short walk. To make matters worse, Rocco decided to perch on top of my crate and bother me.
“Locked up again, I see,” he said, with a laugh. “That’s rich for a dog named Capone.”
I glared up at him, wanting to bite his fat, fluffy tail. “What are you trying to tell me, Rocco? You’ve been hinting around at it since I came here.”
“I’ll tell you, but only because it’s hilarious,” He stretched out on top of my crate, his green eyes glowing with malicious pleasure. “You don’t seem to know anything at all about the person you’re named after. Al Capone was one of the worst criminals in American history; a gangster and a murderer and a thief. Who would give a marshmallow like you a name like that?”
Things clicked in my mind like spent shells from a tommy gun. “Hold on a second. Was John Dillinger also a criminal?”
“Yep.”
“And Lucky Luciano?”
“Definitely.”
“And Ma Barker and Opal Mack Truck Long?”
“Yes, and maybe. I’ve never heard of Opal Mack Truck Long. Why are you asking?”
“Those were the names of the other puppies in my litter,” I said, my voice soft. “My brothers and sisters.”
Note to self: Mistress Sue has an odd sense of humor.
Rocco laughed. “Entertaining, especially because Al Capone was the worst of them all.” He narrowed his eyes. “You’re named after him for a reason. Your breeder saw it, and I saw it, too, the minute I met you.”
“What did you see?”
“You’re a bad dog.” He leaned closer, his eyes locked on mine. “It’s your destiny, and there is nothing you can do to change it.”
I bristled, shocked by how much he sounded like Mr. Collins. Cats were awful creatures, but I was stronger now, and more confident. I refused to let Rocco’s words bother me.
“No. It can’t be true. I mean, I’ve made some mistakes, but I’m learning.”
“With a name like Capone, your path is set.” He stretched, seemingly oblivious to my distress. “Look, my hairy little friend. I know you imagine yourself as a gentleman, as a modern-day Mr. Darcy. You’re actually the furthest thing from it, and there isn’t a single thing you can do about it.”
I sat up straighter. “I don’t care what name Mistress Sue gave me. I know she loved me. She cried when I left the farm. I also know I’m not destined to be anything. I choose to be a gentleman, and therefore I shall become one.”
“How?”
“I’ll start by convincing Miss Josie to change my name.”
“What makes you think you can get Josephine to change your name when you can’t even get her to let you sleep on the couch?”
The couch remained a sore spot for me, and he knew it. “The epitome of gentlemanly behavior is saving a damsel in distress. I’ll save Miss Josie.”
“From what?” He snorted. “She’s perfectly capable of taking care of herself. Why would she need help from a furry idiot like you?”
Hmmm. Rocco had a point. But I remembered her drunken rant in the garden; her sad, lonely, soliloquy, and I knew exactly what I had to do.
“I’m going to help Miss Josie find her one true love, her own Mr. Darcy. When I do, she’ll change my name to something more appropriate.”
“Like what? Doofus?” He laughed, and it was a horrible sound. “Good luck. Men like Mr. Darcy don’t exist. They never have.”
“Yes, they do, and I will find one. Now leave me alone. I have a lot to think about, and this will be complicated.”
“For you, finding your tail is complicated.”
“Shut up, Rocco,” I said as he slunk away. “And thank you.”
He turned and looked at me over his shoulder, his smushed up face confused. “For what?”
“For spurring me to action. You’re a good…” I paused, thinking about it, not sure what to call him exactly. “Associate.”
Rocco snorted and mumbled something derogatory under his breath, but I ignored him. As I curled up in my crate and formulated a plan, I realized things were not as bad as they first seemed. Yes, Mistress Sue named me after Al Capone, the furthest thing possible from a true gentleman, but I had the opportunity to change it, and improve myself. All hope was not lost. The power to fix the terrible blow karma had dealt me now rested in my paws. I had a chance to prove to myself and everyone else I had the makings of a true gentleman, and I was not about to waste it.