The Dog Who Knew Too Much by Carol Lea Benjamin Read Free Book Online

punishing, being angry, that they never wonder, Who is this dog, what is he feeling, what does he understand, what confuses him, and why is he confused, what are his special abilities, and how can I use these to teach him what he needs to know? They are so sure they are right, they never examine their insubstantial conclusions. No matter what the dog might be able to tell them, they cannot learn it. There is no place inside them to put the information.”
    â€œSo tomorrow, when you come, you’ll wear your Everything I Know About Zen I Learned from My Dog T-shirt?”
    â€œI didn’t say I knew anything about Zen. I was only talking about dogs. I used to be a dog trainer,” I said, “until I came here.”
    â€œI understand,” he said.
    â€œI’ll see you tomorrow, then.”
    He stood, reached for the jacket, and helped me into it. He put his warm hand on my cheek and looked into my eyes.
    â€œI’ll be here,” he whispered.
    Then he walked to the door and held it open for me.
    â€œLisa was here every day. This was her life.”
    He stopped and blew his nose.
    I didn’t breathe for fear he’d stop talking.
    â€œThere was nothing more important to her, nothing that took precedence over her studies. We spent many hours together, studying, talking, or silent, working on the form. One never stops trying to perfect one’s ability to do the form. We do not think, Ah, now we have learned it. We pay attention to one detail at a time, taking pleasure in each. We do not think about what isn’t. We pay attention to what is. Now, go, child. I will see you tomorrow.”
    He closed the door.
    Here I was, obeying him again.
    Well, he was the master , wasn’t he?
    I heard the lock turn.
    So what did that make me? I wondered as Dashiell and I headed down the stairs.
    And more important, what had it made Lisa?

8
    I Took the Stairs
    When I woke up it was afternoon, three thirty to be exact. If I was going to be at Bank Street T’ai Chi by seven, I had to move. I cleaned and medicated Dashiell’s ear, gave him his monthly heartworm preventive, and spent an hour in my office paying bills, now that I could, and taking care of paperwork.
    Since I had to repark the car anyway, I drove five blocks to Lisa’s street and in only forty-five minutes was able to find a legal spot. Waving to the concierge, I passed the elevators and took the stairs to the second floor. Paul Wilcox had made me more than curious about the strong resemblance to my cousin , and I wanted to look more carefully at the pictures of Lisa that were among the books in her living room.
    I picked up one of the photos and took it over to the window, holding it so that the light would fall on it. lisa’s eyes were as blue as the Caribbean; mine were more the gray-blue of the Atlantic. Her skin was white, like her mother’s. Mine was fair, but not pearly or translucent, not as delicate looking as lisa’s.
    Lisa’s hair was very much like mine, darker, but about the same length and also curly. In the photo she wore a little braid on one side. I put the picture back on the shelf and, taking a small strand of hair on the left side, braided it as Lisa had done; then, holding the end of the braid, I went into the kitchen, where I had seen some lavender string on top of the refrigerator. I secured the end of the braid, then looked for scissors to cut off the piece of string.
    I ran upstairs and opened the closet door, zeroing in on a sheer black silk shirt, black velvet leggings, the Chinese-style quilted jacket, and those fabulous pink high-tops. Leaving my own things in the closet, I put on Lisa’s clothes and shoes. Everything fit, so I took some soft black pants and a black T-shirt for t’ai chi as well, folding them carefully and putting them in a nylon mesh tote bag I found in Lisa’s closet. Halfway down the stairs, I turned back. I needed a bathing suit, didn’t I?