Punk and virtuoso thrash guitarist Preston takes his clients for walks as he carries out his duties as a professional dog walker while he contemplates his future and his career dilemmas.

This story is featured in my collection of short stories entitled Short Songs, featuring characters from The Rise and Fall of Skye Wright series.

     He always had to brace himself before he went to Teddy’s house. Teddy was as bombastic a pit bull as he had ever known, always jumping and leaping with uncontrolled giddiness. Teddy had managed to scratch him up as well as punch him with his paws during past visits when he performed his “Yay! You’re here!” leaps and bounds, including one incident that involved an especially painful nose bop, when Teddy punched Preston’s face with his nose while trying to lick his face.
     He could hear Teddy clanging around his crate as Preston walked down the stairs.
     “Hey Teddy,” said Preston in as the excited pibble as he shot out of the cage with quickly wiggling butt and his hypersonic tail that was nothing more than a blur as it wagged wildly in anticipation of his upcoming walk.
     He backed away as Teddy leaped and jumped and twirled around. After initiating a few martial arts-style moves, he managed to grab hold of Teddy and wrestle the collar onto him as Teddy’s whippy tail smacked his lower legs.
     Quickly getting outside, they turned the corner and Preston knew right away that Teddy had spotted someone. He strained on the leash as Teddy’s paws skittered on the pavement.
     Turning the corner of a hedge, a large orange cat was arching its back and fluffing up his tail as he gave Teddy his best evil glare.
     “That cat does not want to play,” said Preston as he strained on the leash while the large tabby shrank into its corner, bunching itself up so it could either dart away or spring to attack. “All that cat is gonna do is scratch up your nose.”
     He slowly pulled the anxious pibble away from the cat, at the same time he knew Teddy would want to stop at the house on the corner where he had once spotted several fluffy cats. Even though they had not seen them again in several weeks, Teddy insisted on looking around to see if he could find them.
     Preston never tired of continuously reminding his vivacious client that he could not play with cats. He wondered if they would find that one rare cat, a feline who would be brave enough to approach Teddy and at least say hello to him. Preston had encountered such cats, but they were rare.
     Preston’s thoughts drifted to Butt Fork, the recording studio and label owned by his friend Skye. His bass playing girlfriend Miranda had relayed Skye’s wishes that he would stop by the studio more often, that she was hoping Preston would stick around to fill in for missing musicians, when bands that came by for recording sessions had no idea where am member of their band had gone, a phenomena that happened much more frequently than he would’ve guessed.
     Some people had also been pressuring him and Skye to start their own side gig.
     Preston pulled on the leash when Teddy started jumping around. He knew by the way he was bouncing that he had spotted another dog. Indeed, a young woman with a border collie was just up the street, walking towards them.
     “Can she say hi?” asked the tall and slim pony-tailed young woman who looked like a college student as she held back the bouncing border collie.
     “Sure. He’s super friendly.”
     The two dogs jumped up and down with each other, both expending a generous amount of nuclear powered puppy play before Preston and the young woman parted ways, both dogs looking to each other in grave disappointment that they were being separated.
     Preston managed to avoid any other animal encounters as they returned to the house. He always felt a twinge of guilt whenever he brought Teddy back, since he knew he wanted to keep walking.
     He made sure to throw in a few treats before he closed the kennel door.
     He drove to his next assignment which was just down the hill, at a modest apartment complex.
     Preston woke up Gerard when he came into the apartment. The small back-and-white Jack Russel mix had been asleep on the top of the couch.
     He stood up and yawned as Preston gathered up his leash and harness.
     They only walked a few feet away from the apartment before Gerard stopped and lied down on the sidewalk.
     It was the usual routine. Gerard would sit for a few minutes before standing up and wanting to walk. Preston would check his email and his messages, and possibly scroll through Facebook depending on how long Gerard did his pre-walk lie down.
     “Can I pet your doggy?”
     Preston turned around. A thin little girl with long, stringy brown hair had come up behind them.
     “Sure. He’s friendly.”
     Gerard stood up and sniffed the little girl’s hand. “What’s your dog’s name?”
     “Gerard.”
     “How long have you had him?” asked the girl as she patted Gerard on the head.
     “He’s not my dog. I’m a dog walker.”
     “Dog walker?” winced the girl as she looked up at Preston.
     “Yeah. People pay me to walk their dogs when they’re at work.”
     As the little girl petted and played with Gerard, Preston’s thoughts drifted back to Skye and her studio. He remembered what a bother it was, getting a substitute dog walker when he went on tour with the Dynamite Chicks, when he filled in for their absent lead guitarist.
     Even though he had to think back to remember exactly how many bands he had been in, he had never been on such a tour. At least not one that went all across the United States. He held in a shudder when he recounted the first time he played in front of a large arena audience, how for the first time in his life he had been struck by stage fright.
     He thought it was ironic that Skye had eased him into the experience of a large tour, of having to play in front of large crowds. Back in their Hell Nose House days, when they were all crashing at a disheveled punk pad in San Francisco, he had helped her out, the first time she played with a band, when she was the substitute bass player for Triple T, and she was fretting about being even a temporary member of such an iconic band.
     It reminded him of how often he had been high and drunk for so many of the shows he played, how he had ritually gotten at least a little wasted before every show.
     “Carmen!” shouted a woman in the distance. “Come back to the house!”
     The young girl sprung to her feet and ran off. Preston took Gerard back to his apartment and headed back to his car.
     His next stop was walking an energetic duo. He always had fun walking his next pair of clients. There was only one hitch to that regular assignment .
     Approaching the apartment complex, he was hoping it would be one of the rare occasions when he would not see the round face and bulbous nose in the second floor window near the entrance. He looked down at his wicking workout shirt, one of the shirts he would wear during his dog walks, not only because it was comfortable for the workout he would get by walking dogs all day, but also because it made him look more civilian for his work and his clients.
     He thought about that as he started punching in the code to get inside the building.
     “What are you doing here?” said the familiar, gravelly voice.
     Preston looked up at the woman whose short and stringy hair fluttered around her round face. “I’m walking dogs.”
     “Walking dogs? You’re walking dogs? You came here just to walk dogs?”
     Preston finished punching in the code and the door buzzed.
     “How do I know you’re not breaking in?” she yarped as Preston walked into the building.
     He walked up to the ground floor apartment and punched in the code. He braced himself as the cacophony of barking commenced with the sound of his button pushing.
     Walking in, he was tackled by the small red beagle Suzie who hopped up and down. The black and white cocker spaniel Ruiz would do one or two gratuitous jumps before retreating to the couch since Suzie was so rambunctious.
     As usual, Preston had to practically wrestle Suzie to the floor to get her collar on. Ruiz was much easier to leash.
     Bulbous nose watched him as he left, not saying anything as she kept her eyes trained on him as he walked the dogs out of the parking lot.
     Suzie always made it a point to try and say hi to every person, dog, and cat they encountered. Ruiz would occasionally bark, but was friendly enough. Preston had to explain to Suzie, several times, that the cats they encountered did not want to say hi.
     The dogs jumped up and down when they passed a homeless man. The man had partially gray clothes and a green knapsack. He looked as if he had done his best to comb back his wiry hair. He smiled as the dogs who insisted on poking their noses towards him as they wildly wagged their tails.
     “Can I say hi to your dogs?” he asked.
     “Sure. They’re really friendly.”
     The dogs wagged their tails faster and jumped up and down as the man petted them. “They really are nice dogs,” said the man with a big smile.
     “Oh yeah. They love everybody”
     Preston continued his walk as the dogs said hello to a few more passerbys as well as another dog walker with a super friendly pibble.
     The bulbous nose was not in her window when he came back, bringing the dogs back to their apartment.
     She was there when he walked back out.
     “What are you doing here?” she asked.
     Preston stopped and looked up at her. “What?”
     “I oughta call the police. Who knows what you stole from there.”
     Preston usually tried to ignore her when he came and went, but this time he held up his hands. “Lady, you’ve seen me here at least two dozen times. I go in, I bring out dogs, I bring the dogs back, and then I leave. You know I’m a dog walker. You know that because you’ve seen me do this over and over again.”
     “I don’t know that. For all I know you’re a thief. You look like a scumbag.”
     Preston put his hands on his hips. “You mean like a scumbag who tries to start drama because they harass people for no good reason?”
     The woman’s face went sour. Preston could have sworn her face was turning red. “I’ll call the police! They know how to handle thieves like you!”
     “Yeah, sure. Call ‘em! Go ahead. And then they’ll dress you down for being a fool!”
     She disappeared from the window. Normally Preston would have simply walked away. He had met his fair share of hecklers in his time, and he usually brushed them off. This time, he stood, hand on hips, looking up at the window. He thought about what he would say if police officers actually did show up.
     He stood for a few more minutes. She never came back to the window. As tempted as he was to stand around and try and bait her, he had one more walk to do that day.
     Driving close to the bay shore, he was about to walk his favorite dog, an older bichon frise who he would take for long, slow walks. Even though his owner paid for half hour walks, he would take the old white dog Pookie for longer walks since he was so slow.
     Walking across the snaking lawns between the apartment grounds buildings, he wondered which route Pookie would take that day. Because he was older as well as rather shy, he would sometimes favor taking the alleyways behind his apartment building if he was in a solitary mood. Other times he would favor the green walkways between apartment buildings, just short and quick and basic. Occasionally Preston was able to steer him towards the small parks to say hello to other dogs.
     Even though he was slow and temperamental, he was still Preston’s favorite client.
     He carefully opened the door to Pookie’s modest apartment. Pookie would oftentimes do his slow run to greet him as he came in.
     Occasionally Pookie would be asleep, or would be having a slow day. In that case Preston always find him on their bed, right next to the ramp they built for him so he could get up and down. Preston peered around the corner.
     Pookie was not on the bed.
     He looked around the kitchen and then down the hallway.
     “Pookie! Pookie! Come here boy!’
     Confused and concerned, he looked under the couch, and then went into the bedroom and looked under the bed. His concerns about going through someone else’s private living space gave way to his concern for Pookie, wondering if he was not feeling well or was possibly disabled, being as he was an older dog. Failing to find him anywhere, he checked the back door and looked around to see if it was possible that he had somehow gotten out.
     He looked around their kitchenette and then opened a few closets, wondering if Pookie had managed to get himself stuck inside one of their closets.
     After checking the bathroom, he stood in the middle of the living room and scanned the whole area. His skin grew cold at the idea that Pookie had somehow managed to get out of the apartment altogether, and might be limping around outside by himself with no human to guide him.
     His skin bristled as he texted Maria, Pookie’s owner. Not once had he ever had to contact an owner about a missing pet.
     “Hey I’m at your place to take Pookie for his walk but I cannot find him. I am hoping you have taken him with you to work today or maybe he is having a vet visit at the moment. Will keep looking.”
     Preston resumed his search, looking in the closets again on the off chance that he had somehow missed Pookie.
     He decided he would look around outside for a few minutes before resorting to calling Pookie’s owner.
     His phone rang, just as he was about to go out the door.
     “Hey Preston, I’m so sorry. I meant to get in touch with you earlier.”
     “What’s up?”
     “Well, I just wanted you to know that… Pookie’s not missing.”
     “Oh. Is he at the vet?”
     There was a pause.
     “No…” she said.
     Preston felt cold.
     “I’m sorry we didn’t tell you, but Pookie became really ill over the weekend. We decided to put him down.”
     Preston turned and looked around the living room. His eyes could not help but look in the corners, as if he was still trying to see the slowly moving ball of white fluff.
     “I’m so sorry we didn’t tell you,” she continued. “It just slipped our mind. We’ll still pay you for the visit.”
     “No, no. That’s not necessary.”
     “Well, we did forget to tell you, and you came all the way out there.”
     “It’s no big deal. I mean… I’m really sorry about Pookie. I know he was an older dog.”
     “It was just his time.”
     Preston could not stop looking around the apartment. “I will really miss him. He was my favorite dog.”
     Preston talked to Pookie’s human for a few more moments before ending the call.
     He looked through his ring of client keys, finding Pookie’s apartment key and taking it off the ring.
     His heart skipped a beat as he put the key down on the kitchen counter.
     Preston slowly walked through the lawns of the vast apartment complex, making his way back to his car which he had parked on the street.
     He stood in front of his car as he felt his heart drop.
     Preston turned around, and started walking around the apartment complex. He walked slowly, tracing the alleyway and the long green walkway and the small parks, taking one last walk around the bayside complex.
     He was retracing the Pookie walks, one last time.