Page 35 of Sean's Sunshine

“We wouldn’t want that,” Bob said soberly. “And we appreciate you looking into it.”

At that moment there was a deep, ecstaticwoolffrom across the park, and Billy grimaced.

“Oh no.”

“Skye!” There was no escaping the way Sean’s face lit up, although he couldn’t actually call the dog’s name across the park.

“Sean, that dog….” Billy shook his head, not sure how he could phrase this. The dog’s heart was 100 percent gold—Billy had no doubt. But its body? As muscular as a snake, as tall as a beagle, and as long as a full-grown German shepherd. The dog’s tail could break fragile bones, and talk about go! The dog had more go than a nitro-powered race car—and far less control.

But Sean didn’t seem to care. His face opened up, and the dog, sensing that here, here was the big brother she’d been looking for all her life, vowed she would prove her love, prove it by throwing that fifty-pound wriggling body right up into Sean’s lap!

Sean responded by hugging her, although it probably hurt him like hell, and Billy was forced to take control.

“No,” he commanded, standing up and grabbing the dog by the collar.

“Aw,” Sean murmured, but his face had gone pale, a sure sign that little leap of faith had hurt him.

“I know you mean well,” Billy said firmly, lecturing into the dog’s upturned face, “but sit. Sit. You stay. No. No jumping!”

“I’m sorry!” Jim, Skye’s owner, was an angular man with a goatee who was about ten years younger than Bob. “Skye! Dammit! Would you sit?”

And Skye, whohadbeen sitting, was suddenly in ecstasy again, her anaconda-like tail thumping against Billy’s ankle with enough power to bruise.

“I’m sorry,” Jim said again, coming over to drag Skye away by her collar. “I almost had her trained to the collar, but the battery went out and she’s just a mess! Skye, look, a squirrel!”

Ooh, that dog knew what a squirrel was. With a happy bark, she wriggled around until she saw one down the path, and the chase was on! She hauled ass after the creature, surprisingly quick, and when the squirrel darted up one of the big-boled beech trees, she proceeded to leap up a good six to seven feet, paws scrabbling against the bark in an effort to climb the tree and get the damned squirrel.

“Oh my fucking God,” Billy said, watching her.

“Yeah, she’ll do that for a good twenty minutes,” Jim told them. “Thank heavens. I’m exhausted.”

Billy bent down and stroked Dude’s little bat ears and his broad back. “You’re way too smart for that bullshit, aren’t you, buddy?” In response, Dude smiled up at him, reaffirming his supposition that small dogs were far superior to anything over twenty pounds.

Or anything that wassupposedto be over twenty pounds, he thought fondly, as Dude waddled back to Bob, excited about their walk around the park path.

“So you’ll keep us informed?” Sean asked. “And let me know if you see anything suspicious. You guys live in the cul-de-sacs. We drive in from a few blocks over. You’ve got the inside track.”

“We’ll do it,” Bob assured him, while Jim hollered, “Skye, get down!” He turned to Sean and Billy in dismay. “Oh my God, do you see that? She’sin the damned tree!”

Jim took off running at a fairly decent clip for a guy in his sixties, and Bob followed a little more slowly, chuckling as he went. As Sean and Billy watched, Skye scrabbled with all four paws as she wiggled, caught by the crotch of the tree that was at least six feet off the ground.

“I’m taking a picture of that,” Billy said. “Stay right there.” He cast a frantic look behind him to make sure Sean wasn’t going anywhere before he ran for a closer shot, because telling his brothers at the flophouse about the hound dog in the tree was not going to have the same impact as a picture.

He caught the whole thing, from the dog flopping around to Jim getting behind her and shoving. Billy took pity on everybody involved and got close enough for the dog to put her paws over his shoulders so he could pull while Jim shoved. Finally the poor dog was down on the ground, licking Billy’s face while Jim checked her stomach for scrapes.

“Yeah,” Billy said to the poor thing. “You’re sweet, but you’re hella dumb. I gotta go, baby. That man on the bench is also hella dumb. If I don’t get over there, he’ll try to walk around the soccer field again, and that would suck.” He stood up and sent Sean a glance over his shoulder, reassured when Sean did an enthusiastic clap from back on the bench. Only the presence of the two older men kept Billy from flipping the bird.

“Thank you so much,” Jim said from his spot crouching next to his dog. “I know she’s dumb, but seriously—”

“She’s sweet,” Billy said. “She’s just got no smarts. I think she might get them when she’s older. Sometimes you got to get older to get your smarts.”

Jim nodded, and Bob chuckled. “Just as long as you don’t wreck yourself before you get your smarts,” he said.

Billy frowned, and Bob looked at his friend.

“Was I being too subtle?”

“About what?” Jim said, looking from Bob to Billy.