'You're not old enough to wear a red hat,' Shelley said firmly.
'Why not?'
'Because you're not fifty years old yet.'
'Who made that rule?' Jane asked. 'You?'
'The Red Hats Society. I think that's what they're called.'
Jane sniffed and said, 'You made that up. Admit it.'
'No, I didn't. You can look it up on the Internet. The head of it is in her eighties I've been told. The local chapters `Lunch,' Shelley said, with verbal quotes around it. 'Then there are big conventions that any member in good standing can attend.'
'Beware! I'm going to look this group up on the Internet.' 'Go ahead. By the way, is this color thing one of the rules you set up for Mel's mother?'
'Not really. But I did say she can't choose flocks of bridesmaids and groomsmen. By the time she realizes this, if we find what I want and make a down payment on the men's tuxes, it will be a fait accompli.'
Jane called around and found a tux rental place that had the charcoal-colored tuxes and got a fabric sample. 'I can't shop for the dress today, Shelley. I need to let Willard out in the yard. He hasn't been out since seven this morning.'
Jane went home and she found Willard, her big old dog sitting by the back door, which he'd almost scratched clear through over the years. Instead of running outside barking as he'd usually done, he walked slowly into the backyard. And as he raised one leg to pee, he fell over.
Jane ran to him, her heart racing. He was lying on his side, his eyes open, and a little blood oozing out of his mouth. Jane ran back to the house and called Todd.
'Todd, I need help quickly. It's Willard. Get that old quilt he likes and put it in the back of the Jeep. We need to get him to the vet.'
Todd had instead put Willard's old dog bed in the back of the Jeep and they both had to carry the heavy dog to the car. Jane drove almost as fast as Shelley did. And two of the girls at the front desk helped them carry Willard inside. Dr. Roberts was waiting and they laid the dog on the examining table. The doctor got out his stethoscope and put it on Willard's chest. 'How did this happen?' he asked Jane.
She told him.
'He was probably dead before he hit the ground. A merciful sudden death. He didn't feel anything. You know he had an enlarged heart for the last several years.'
'Can we take him home and bury him in the yard?' Todd asked.
'There's probably some health code that forbids this,' the doctor said. 'How about this: we'll cremate him and put his ashes in a little enclosed box? Then you can get one of those kits for making concrete stepping-stones to
write on. You can write his name on it and the date of his birth and death.'
'You know his date of birth?' Jane asked through her tears.
'Of course. Remember you adopted him here. Willard's mother was a car chaser and was killed when her two puppies were ten weeks old. They were brought here so they could be adopted. It's all in my file. I'll write down the date. You subtract ten weeks. Todd and Ms. Jeffry, he was loved by the whole family. He had a good long happy life. Keep that in mind.'
He shook Todd's hand and held it with both of his. 'He was a good dog. I know you'll miss him.'
They left behind the dog bed and were both crying on the way home. To Jane's knowledge Todd hadn't cried since he was eight when Thelma's husband died and they had attended his funeral.
As the doctor had suggested they stopped by a hobby store and bought the kit for the stepping-stone. Jane thought that making the stone now might ease Todd's grief.
Janie had suspected for the last few weeks that Willard wouldn't be with them for much longer. He'd been sleeping too much, not eating his food as fast. And not running around the yard barking at imaginary predators on his turf. She'd soon lose her old cats as well. They were nearly as old as Willard.
She wondered if the cats would miss Willard as much as his people would. Probably so.
SEVEN
W
en Jane got back from the vet, she had a blinking essage from the architect on her phone. 'Jane, this is Jack. I forgot to tell you something. When we get approval for this project, we'll have to take part of your south fence out to get the equipment into your backyard. I noticed that you have a dog. So take it outside on a leash when we're ready.'
She didn't have the heart to call back and say she no longer had the old dog. Even though she was curious about when the pouring of the foundation would start. She'd ask him later.
Nor was she calm enough yet to tell Katie and Mike. She did call Shelley, who sympathized in the best way. 'That's the thing about well-loved pets. We always out?
live them. 1 suppose the worst scenario is that one would outlive us and have to go to strangers.'
'Thanks, Shelley. You're right. I'm never getting a dog again. It's too hard to lose one. The same with cats. Well, not exactly. They don't really need you to be home all the time. Leave lots of kitty litter and food and water and go away for a weekend and they're mildly happy when you get home. Dogs aren't like that. They love their people and are sad when they're left alone, or — God forbid — put in a kennel.'
'There is another difference,' Shelley said. 'Dogs love their owners. Cats think they own you.'
Jane laughed and then went on to tell Shelley how nice the vet had been, especially to Todd. The vet took so much trouble to comfort Todd on Willard's death, and explained about the headstone idea.
'He's such a nice man,' Shelley said. 'We had always taken our pets to him back when we had pets. He cared about them and their owners, even though one of our cats' records was headed `Caution — Mean Cat.'
That made Jane laugh again. She vaguely remembered that cat of the Nowacks'. It had bitten both her and Mike the first time each of them had tried to pet it.
'You really need to go shopping tomorrow for your dress for the fake wedding,' Shelley said.
'That sounds like excellent therapy.'
They took along the scrap of charcoal fabric they'd talked the tux guy into finding. But after two completerounds of trampling entirely through three dress stores, found nothing even close.
'Don't worry, Jane. A fabric store will have an exact match and I know an excellent dressmaker who can make whatever you need.'
'Right now what I need most is to go home and see if Todd has finished his headstone for Willard. Todd will want me to compliment it the moment he finishes and his feelings will be hurt if I'm not there.'
Shelley, who'd often been in similar situations with her children when pets had died, agreed. 'We have lots of time. Neither wedding is for a few months. Give me that scrap of fabric and I'll go through every fabric store in town like Sherman through Altanta.'
Todd had finished the headstone and did a good job of it.
