Painted Ladies

2

Susan and Pearl were spending the weekend with me. It was Saturday morning and the three of us were out for a mid-morning stroll in the Public Garden. Pearl was off the leash so she could dash about and annoy the pigeons, which she was doing, while Susan and I watched proudly.

“So you are going to make this exchange Monday morning?” Susan said.

“Yep.”

“How do you feel about it?” she said.

“I am, as you know, fearless.”

“Mostly,” Susan said.

“ ‘Mostly’?”

Susan smiled and shook her head.

“What’s bothering you about it?” she said.

“An exchange like this,” I said, “they gotta be sure they get the money before they give you the painting. You gotta be sure you get the painting before you give them the money. They gotta be sure that once they give up the painting the cops don’t swoop in and bust them.”

“Difficult,” Susan said.

“And their side gets to call the shots,” I said.

“Which you don’t like,” Susan said.

“Which I don’t like,” I said.

“Ducks,” Susan said. “You don’t like anyone else calling the shots on what tie to wear.”

“Except you,” I said.

Susan smiled.

“Of course,” she said. “Always except me.”

A group of pigeons was pecking at some popcorn that had been thrown on the ground for them. Pearl chased them off and ate the popcorn. A mature woman in a leopard-skin coat stood up from the bench where the pigeons had gathered and walked toward us.

“Madam,” she said, “control your dog. That popcorn is intended for the pigeons.”

Susan smiled.

“Survival of the fittest,” she said.

The woman frowned.

She said, “Don’t be flippant, young woman.”

“Yikes,” I murmured.

Susan turned slowly toward the woman.

“Oh, kiss my ass,” Susan said.

The woman took a half-step back. Her face reddened. She opened her mouth, and closed it, and turned and marched away.

“They teach you ‘kiss my ass’ at Harvard?” I said.

“No,” Susan said. “I learned that from you. . . . Pearl likes popcorn.”

“At least she called you ‘young woman,’ ”I said.

Susan was glaring after the woman.

“By her standards,” Susan said.

Suddenly Pearl stopped scavenging the popcorn and stood motionless, her ears pricked, as if she were pointing. Which she wasn’t. She was staring.

Coming toward us was a yellow Lab with a massive head and a broad chest. He was wagging his tail majestically as he trotted toward us, as if he was one hell of a dog and proud of it. He stopped about a foot in front of Pearl, and they looked at each other. They sniffed each other. They circled each other, sniffing as they went. Pearl didn’t suffer fools gladly, so I stayed close. In case. Then Pearl stretched her front paws out and dropped her chest and raised her hind end. The Lab did the same. Then Pearl rose up and tore around in a circle. The Lab went after her. The circle widened, and pretty soon the two dogs were racing around the whole of the Public Garden. Occasionally they would stop to put their heads down and tails up. Then they would race around some more. An attractive blonde woman was standing near us, watching.

“Your dog?” Susan said.

“Yes,” she said. “Otto.”

“Mine is Pearl,” Susan said. “They seem to be getting along.”

The woman smiled.

“Or would if they slowed down,” she said.

We watched as the flirtation continued. The two dogs began to roll on the ground, mouthing each other in make-believe bites, unsuccessfully trying to pin each other down with a front paw.

“Do you bring Pearl here regularly?” Otto’s mom said.

“Quite often,” Susan said.

“We’re in from New York, staying across the park.”

Otto’s mom nodded toward the Four Seasons.

“They seem so taken with each other,” she said. “Do you have a card or something? I could call you. Maybe they could meet again while we’re here?”

“Please,” Susan said. “Pearl will be thrilled.”

Susan gave her a card.

“Otto doesn’t mind that Pearl is spayed?” I said.

“Otto’s been neutered,” his mom said.

“Men!” Susan said to me. “This is love, not sex.”

“Both are nice,” I said.

The two dogs stood, panting, tails wagging, looking at each other.

“You should know,” Susan said.