Chapter Two: Fit to Be Tied

Two days into the logo design for Cryer and Chase Marriage Counselors (Slogan: We Listen), and I was ready for counseling.  Ms Amanda Cryer and Mr. Seymour Chase were some of the most difficult clients I'd ever had. Ms Cryer vehemently disliked the first design as soon as Mr. Chase declared his love for it.  He had an instant aversion to the second design after she declared it perfect.  By midnight, I was seriously considering drawing two large ears with a man yelling in one and a woman in the other when commonsense and a desire to have grocery money for this week kicked in and I went to bed instead. 

When I woke up, I immediately looked at the note pad I keep by the bed in case I get creative inspiration during the night. Unfortunately, the pad was empty which meant I hadn't woken up, jotted down a brilliant idea for Cryer and Chase and slipped back to sleep without remembering last night. Just as well as the pen had bite marks on it causing the ink to have dried out. One of the basenjis had obviously been snacking during the night.

And yet now they wanted their kibble and a walk. I drug myself out of bed and shooed them out into the fenced-in backyard while I grabbed their bowls and filled them with premium kibble.  They came charging back in from the yard and jumped in their crates for breakfast as I grabbed my first cup of coffee.  Once they were finished eating, I opened the dogs' crates and loosened the hounds.

Then I remembered that in yet another attempt to lose 20 pounds, I had agreed to work out everyday in addition to walking the dogs if my friend Belinda would, too.  I had somehow forgotten all about that promise while Belinda was away the last 5 days, but she was due back tomorrow, so I'd have to do better now.  I'd exercise today and tomorrow before I saw her, so could look her in the eye when I lied about having worked out everyday while she was gone.

Determined to get going right away, I threw on some cotton shorts, a tee shirt and my old sneakers.  First deep breaths, followed by side twists and basenji boy Poppi gnawing on my shoe laces and then toe touches with basenji girl Harper darting in and out trying to grab my hands each time I reached down.  I was getting more of a work-out than I'd had in mind. 

Still I soldiered on telling myself I'd lose those 20 pounds this time and be happier, healthier, wittier and quite possibly even the wife of Hugh Jackman if I did.  I got down on the floor and started to do push-ups with my knees bent. Harper's velvety red paw started batting my head. On the tenth push-up, I heard an ear-piercing cry. I was surprised because I hadn't thought I'd done that out loud. Then I realized it wasn't me; it was Harper.  Basenjis are bark less, but they are not mute, and Harper seemed adamant about proving that point this morning.  I turned my head to see what the problem was and realized that her paw was stuck in my wildly curly black hair.  While I had inherited my mother's corkscrew curls, I had also inherited my fathers raven black hair.  The combination sounds nice until you realize the curls have a mind of their own, and in the morning the mind usually decided they should look like a prop from a 1940's horror movie. 

One of the nails on Harper's front right paw was ensnared in one of curls that ravelled down to a few inches below my shoulders.  I twisted as far as I could to the left in an effort to reach her stuck paw.  Harper pulled back at my movement and nearly knocked the breath out of me as she yanked tighter on my hair.  Poppi started jumping back and forth over Harper in an attempt to join the "game!"  The screaming continued.  Her paw was so deeply entangled in my curls now that I had no idea how I'd rescue her or my hair although I finally was able to maneuver over and get myself onto my back where I hoped I'd be able to reach her better.  Poppi took the opportunity to jump onto my chest and begin licking my face.  Knowing it was a nervous reaction to Harper's screaming, I still tried to bat him away. 

I couldn't get him to budge so I was shocked when he seemed to levitate off my chest not two seconds later.  I thought I heard a chuckle, but I couldn't see anything because of all the hair in my face. Anyway hearing anything above Harper's caterwauling seemed unlikely, so I continued blindly trying to reach her paw with my hand. I curled into a ball in an effort to shorten the distance between her and my right hand. 

"Need some help?" a male voice gasped out between guffaws.  Now Harper and I made a duet of screams.  Someone was in my house, and my dogs were too busy jumping on me and getting their damn paws stuck in my hair to defend me! 

"Whoa, whoa, don't scream!  It's okay.  It's me--Jason.  You left your door unlocked and when the neighbor, Mr. Gato,  called saying someone was being attacked at your address, I came in to check it out."

"Jason? Attacked?" I stammered as I pushed my hair as far out of my face as I could.  "Yeah, Jason Krepsky from school," he answered.  I could now see the police issue boots and uniformed legs of my old friend who'd become a police officer many years ago and had moved back to the area last year after his marriage had dissolved.  He bent down to offer me a hand. "Don't touch Harper!" I yelled." She might bite when she is this upset."

"How am I supposed to untangle her if I don't touch her?" he asked. He had a point because there was no way I was getting her paw out without his help.  "I have leather gloves we use when we cage feral cats. They're in the squad car," he said before he disappeared from sight. I fought to get into a dignified position before he got back, but that was a little difficult with a 23 pound screaming basenji hanging from my hair. 

Soon he was back, laying the gloves down on the floor and squatting down beside me.  "Just be careful," I said.  "It's okay, Harper. It's okay, girl," I reassured her. "Wow! She's really anchored in there,"  Jason said as he reached over to put the gloves on.  Then he started laughing again.  He was having much more fun than I thought the situation allowed.  I was trying to remember if he'd had a sadistic sense of humor in high school, too.  "I think I may have to arrest your dog," he said.  "He stole one of my gloves." 

Oh, no! Poppi! I'd forgotten about Poppi.  "Poppi! Drop it!" I demanded.  "Trade him something for it if he won't give it to you," I told Jason.  Soon Jason was back on the floor, gently lifting Harper up so he could disentangle her paw.  It took almost ten minutes, and I was reminded in that time that Jason had had a very creative way with swear words back in the day.  Apparently, he'd lost none of his creativity over the years.  Finally though Harper was free and she'd only tried to bite Jason twice. She must like him. 

I stood up  and tried to smooth down my hair before I thanked him.  "I think I that's a lost cause," he laughed as he watched me. He had tears coming out of his eyes from laughing so hard! 

 "Thank you, Officer Krepsky," I stiffly replied.  "I appreciate your help.  Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to get cleaned up from my exercises." 

 "Oh, exercises?  That's what you were doing?  Exercising?" he chuckled some more.

 "Good day, Officer," I retorted as I turned my back on him and walked into the bathroom, slamming the door and leaving him no choice but to see himself out. 

Glancing into the mirror above the sink, I almost shrieked, but I didn't want Jason to rush in to rescue me again. As a matter of fact, I didn't want him to ever see me like this again! I had dog saliva all over my face, my tee shirt was covered with paw marks, and my hair--my hair was clumped up in some spots and sticking straight out like curly spokes in others!  I hopped in the shower before I had to look at myself a moment longer.

I've heard that taking a shower is a good way to stimulate creativity.  It must be true because I came out of the shower with a great idea for the Cryer and Chase account.  I sat down at my computer and designed a logo based on the outlines of two stylized ears coming together to form a heart.  In the middle of the heart was the silhouette of a couple talking and underneath the heart were the words, "Cryer and Chase--We Listen." 

It was perfect for the marriage counselors, and I knew they wouldn't be able to resist it, so I attached my invoice and hit the send button. Then I pulled my hair back with a headband and took the dogs for their walk.  Well, I took them for their walk after I retrieved my sneakers from Poppi. Maybe Jason should have arrested him.