Sleeps with Dogs by Lindsey Grant Read Free Book Online Page A

my outstretched hand, he stared me down with an angry glint in his black eyes.
    Before I left the house, I triple-checked the locks on Sterling’s cage and left the broom in place, propped across the entrance to the kitchen. As little trust as I had in Sterling, I had even less in myself. Despite my diligent review and frequent referencing of the instructions provided, and my fastidious attention to detail when it came to feeding the birds and maintaining their cages, I’d still managed to screw up in spectacular fashion. As prepared as I’d thought I was, I wasn’t nearly prepared enough.
    I couldn’t imagine that many pets would require care as involved or specific as the birds had, but that remained to be seen. In any case, the stakes would always be just as high. I sincerely hoped that even more careful review of my every action—and fewer easily enraged animals—might result in less violent sleepovers in the future.
    Upon her return, Bev gifted me with a book on herbal medicine. So kind, and so very random. I secretly hoped that I might find the secret to Bev’s outrageous magnanimity revealed within its pages.
    After depositing my check, I updated my business profile on the pet-sitting association’s website. Experience with exotic animals: check! Though there wasn’t a field for it, I was mentally noting that I now had bona fide experience with animal-on-animal aggression, too.
    Little did I know how indispensable this skill of managing the wilder and less-predictable aspects of the menagerie in my charge would prove. I’d leaped enthusiastically into the pet-care industry for the serenity, the simple joy, of spending my days in the company of animals. But my job, it would seem, was more about maintaining the illusion of control.

 
    Hi Annie,
    I have an overnight visit with the pug brothers scheduled for tonight, so I put dinner in the fridge. Greek chicken. Yum! I’m with these dogs through the weekend but should be able to have dinner with y’all at least a few nights this week. Just going early this first day to get the lay of the land.
    Pugs! Chicken! Love you.
    Lindsey

CHAPTER THREE
    Nanny Cam

    U ntil I started walking the Tervuren shepherds, or Tervs, I didn’t know that there was such a thing as an agility dog. Or that these dogs competed against one another and won awards for their speed and precision. Hunting dogs, sporting dogs, herding dogs, guard dogs, lap dogs, sure. I’d watched Westminster. But agility dogs were all new to me.
    There were three of them: Zipper, the female; Rascal, the male—both seasoned champions, judging by the statues and ribbons that crowded the mantel in the living room—and Slinky, the newest addition to the family and still “in training” through her puppyhood.
    On their cul-de-sac, I parked next to the owners’ giant passenger van bearing a Terv sticker on the bumper—the touring mobile, I assumed, for when they traveled to competitions. By the time I reached the front gate, Zipper was already barking through the mail slot. At the porch, the front door was shaking from the impact ofher front paws. As I unlocked the screen door, I braced myself to make like these dogs and be as swift as possible. Once the front door was unlocked and open, I’d have to somehow be quicker and stronger than Zipper to get in and shut the door without her and Rascal bolting past me into the front yard. I had zero confidence that the waist-high white picket fence would hold them for a moment.
    Contrary to my initial assumption, Belgian Tervurens and German shepherds have little in common. The Tervs have a sleeker build and a shorter stature. Their snouts can be so long and narrow as to evoke a collie’s face. Their long, glossy fur is soft to the touch and fluffs out in a ruff around the head. While both breeds are highly trainable, intelligent, and most successful as pets if they are given a job like