Page 3 of The Sandy Page Bookshop

Eudora

There is no such thing as a bad dog.” Eudora Shipman made a small noise of approval in her throat as she read the meme on her Facebook thread. “Just bad people ,” she muttered to herself.

Eudora was not in the habit of hating people, exactly. No, hate was too strong a word. Loathe applied. Despise did, too. Let’s be clear, this was not aimed at all people. Just the ones who earned it, and as a woman who volunteered ( toiled ) in canine rescue, there was ample opportunity.

Just that morning she’d received a message from the head of the Texas-based dog rescue group, Kathy, informing the volunteers of an abandoned dog and her litter of puppies.

Kathy was a saint. Dumped mothers and puppies were sadly nothing new, and though each time Eudora tried to steel herself, it was just not possible.

That morning’s rescue was a scruffy terrier mix (Eudora’s favorite!

Even though she swore she did not have one) that had been left behind, locked in a house suddenly vacated by its no-good renters.

A Good Samaritan neighbor had heard the barking and whining, peered through a window and called the police.

Eudora scrolled through the photos Kathy shared.

The little cinnamon-colored dog was matted, filthy, and emaciated.

But she was alive, as were all five of her multicolored pups, thank God.

Kathy had taken the whole family to her vet and would be updating the group later.

Eudora closed her laptop and rubbed her eyes.

So many lovely dogs, so many awful people.

“Mom, I’m starting to worry about you,” her daughter, Caroline, had said on her visit a few weeks ago.

Caroline was Eudora’s only child and now lived in Delaware with her two children and husband.

They had two scruffy rescue dogs, facilitated by Eudora.

“You spend so much time on your rescue work, and so little out of the house these days.” These days. Code for since Dad died.

Caroline’s father, and the love of Eudora’s life, Milton, had passed away two years ago.

In some ways it did not seem possible. It often felt as if Milton was just here having coffee with Eudora in their little cottage kitchen.

But other times it felt like an eternity since she’d heard Milton’s hearty laugh.

Felt his knobby-knuckled hand in her own.

Rolled over against his comforting bulk beside her in the night.

Oh, how empty her house and her heart had become without Milton.

It was one of the reasons she’d gotten involved with dog rescue.

Her therapist, Maeve, whom Caroline had insisted she see, came up with the idea. “It might be healing for you to get involved in something outside of your usual routine,” Maeve had said. “Something outside of the home where you’re reminded of your grief.”

Eudora had prickled. At that time all she wanted was to work in the garden and cook and read books at home. That was healing.

“I know it feels daunting to try something new when you suffer anxiety, Eudora. But I promise, it can introduce you to new people and opportunities that can bring comfort.”

The last thing Eudora wanted in her life was new people.

The joy of her life had passed away, left her swiftly and silently in the middle of the night with a cardiac episode so discreet that it didn’t even rouse her from sleep.

It was so Milton, slipping gently out of her life as if he’d just left the room to fetch a snack.

No emergency fall. No drawn out disease or hospice, like her poor friend Mary whose husband had suffered deeply through pancreatic cancer right to the end.

Still, despite his elegant exit, Milton was gone and Eudora was bereft.

And mad. She would have liked a little warning.

She would have liked one last walk to the pier, one last sunset dinner on their little back porch.

So, no! to Maeve’s suggestion to meet new people. Eudora had lost the best person of all.

“What about animals?” Maeve asked. “You’ve mentioned you like dogs. Maybe visiting the local shelter and taking a dog for a walk would be a good place to start.”

Dogs. Maeve was not stupid. Eudora loved dogs, always had.

But later in life Milton developed a sudden allergy to them, and when their last dog, Barkley, passed away they could not have another.

Eudora was not stupid, either. She knew Maeve was not so interested in dogs as she was in getting Eudora out of her house and interacting with people.

She was just as maddening as Caroline. But the pressure to do something from both was a teakettle at near boil.

As it was, Caroline was hinting more and more that Eudora should leave Cape Cod behind and move down to Delaware, near them.

As much as she loved her grandkids, Eudora also loved her house full of memories here on the Cape.

She did not want to leave it behind . “Fine,” she’d relented. “I’ll check out the local shelter.”

The drive there gave her an anxiety attack that took her breath away and made her have to pull over twice, but oh, the dogs!

Their wagging tails and sad faces! The big dogs were a bit boisterous for her to manage at her age, but the smaller ones she enjoyed immensely.

The trouble was the driving. Getting out of the house was not like it used to be when she worked as a guidance counselor at the high school and sailed out the door ready for whatever the day threw her way.

These days, at seventy-five, Eudora was afraid of so very many things.

That’s how she stumbled across Kathy’s online rescue group.

Shaggy Dogs specialized in small, scruffy mutts, and they were always on the lookout for people in the northeast willing to foster dogs as they awaited their forever homes.

Eudora jumped at the chance. First she fostered Matilda, who was potty-trained and shy and just needed a loving touch.

Then along came Spanky, who was wild and silly and not potty-trained, but one new area rug later—all set!

The third foster was the failure. Little Alfred, with his whiskery downturned mouth and crooked tail.

His expression was fixed in judgment, and so was he, it turned out.

Alfred would not eat, did not care to socialize with other dogs, and preferred the comforts of home.

On his daily jaunts, he hit the brakes if he saw anyone coming the other way and dragged her swiftly back to the safety of the house.

It was a match made in heaven. Now Eudora knit, cooked chicken and rice for Alfred’s meals, and they avoided the neighbors each day together.

This just did not cut it for Caroline, however. “Mom, it’s unhealthy to stay home with the dog. I worry you don’t socialize with actual humans. ”

“I know plenty of humans,” Eudora countered. She was about to list names, but when she thought about it, aside from Mary who’d moved to Florida, the only people she talked to were Caroline, her postwoman, and Maeve.

“What about a book group?” Caroline suggested. “You love to read. I saw online that the Eldredge Library has a monthly group.”

Eudora sighed. If her daughter had already done this much sleuthing there was slim chance of getting out of it.

“The library is so close you can walk. All you have to do is sign up and go.”

“Fine,” Eudora said. She would go to the library group.

She was not happy. She was still thinking about it that evening when she took Alfred for a walk.

Eudora’s neighborhood was modest, neatly tucked away from beach traffic and Main Street, a little rabbit warren of narrow lanes with wooden signs that had kept its simple old Cape charm.

It was an older neighborhood, built in the thirties and forties, formerly comprised of local schoolteachers and fishermen.

The houses were situated snugly, with tidy front yards and picket fences swallowed by hydrangea at this time of summer.

Unlike the neighborhoods close to the beaches and lighthouse, hers had not been completely overtaken by summer people who scooped up all the smaller homes, adding on to them in every possible direction to accommodate open floor plans and hulking marble islands, all the better to entertain weekend guests.

Still, many of her original neighbors had sold and moved on, their houses now belonging to seasonal families who crammed the narrow seashell driveways with their Range Rovers and oversized SUVs.

Despite the fact Eudora did not socialize , as per Caroline, no longer knowing the names of the people who shared her street did make her feel sad.

“Come on, Alfred,” she said, as they crossed.

Alfred was refusing to go potty, taking his time to sniff mailboxes and stalk bunnies hiding in the hedges, when she heard the rumble of a truck.

A pale blue Ford pickup was rolling their way.

Probably some contractor looking for directions.

Town was full of them this time of year, locals hired by wash-ashores to improve on their summer homes.

It was another reason she kept to the side streets.

The truck pulled up alongside her. “Mrs. Shipman!”

Eudora stopped and peered in the window. “Well hello, Luke Nickerson.”

It had been so long since she’d seen him, she’d almost forgotten how handsome the young man was. It always took her breath away. “How’s everything at your place?” he asked.

“Fine, fine,” she said, nodding. In addition to being a former student of hers, Luke was also a talented craftsman.

He had redone their back deck the year before Milton passed away.

It had been his idea to also build a small pergola for the climbing hydrangea she’d mentioned wanting.

Both the deck and pergola turned out beautifully.

Unfortunately, the hydrangea planting had proved too challenging for Milton’s back.

On his last day on the job, Luke offered to do the digging, but Milton, stubborn as he was proud, declined.

The next morning Eudora had been standing at the kitchen window sipping coffee when she looked out and saw all six hydrangea plants settled into the earth around the pergola, neatly covered with fresh mulch.

Luke never cashed the check she’d sent him for the extra work.

Now Luke leaned out his truck window, his blue eyes soft. “I haven’t seen you in a while, but I was very sorry to hear about Milton,” he said.

“Thank you,” Eudora said, surprised by the tears that sprung to her eyes.

“If you ever need help around the house, no matter how small the job, I’m here.” Luke’s gaze was so earnest. Such a good man. How he remained single was a mystery. Not her business, she thought, swatting that thought away.

“Alright. I’ll leave you and…” He leaned out the truck window to look down at Alfred.

“Alfred,” she said. She’d forgotten all about him at the end of the leash! Alfred glared up at Luke like he’d rather he did not exist. At the mention of his name he lifted his lip and flashed one tiny white canine.

“Great name. I’ll leave you two to your walk.”

As she watched his truck pull away, Eudora thought about the list of people Caroline had asked her to name. Well , she thought, smugly, there’s a name you can add!