Page 15 of Death on Gallows Path

“Now.”

CHAPTER EIGHT

Donna seemed unsurprised to see us.

If I wasn’t mistaken, she emitted a faint snort as we entered the buffer area inside the exterior gate. From this foyer-like area, we had a choice of four gates to the play areas — two for small dogs, two for large dogs.

Though her curt nod did seem to indicate moderate approval of our taking the dogs off leash, then making them wait for the release command before they whooshed across the open space of this large-dog enclosure in a blur of fur and joy.

Some dog people are against dog parks. They maintain that you never know what other dog — or human — is going to be there, presenting the kind of dog — or human — you don’t want to encounter.

True.

Though when it comes to humans, that would also mean not going to the grocery store or the library or the theater or the car wash or the museum or the restaurant or fitness class or . . . you get the idea.

As for dogs at the dog park, I figured we had several advantages.

First, Donna.

In case I haven’t made it clear, she was the grande dame of the dog park and knew all that went on. I’ve seen her, uh, persuade a human that he and his dog needed to leave immediately and not return. He did and he hasn’t.

Second, we have our own mini-pack. I haven’t taken Gracie to the park alone since the first day we went and met Clara and LuLu. A human might miss an outing for various reasons, but when it came to the dogs, it was always Gracie and LuLu, LuLu and Gracie. Most times with Murph, too.

Initially, Clara would pick Murphy up from Teague’s apartment on days he taught. Now, that’s rarely necessary, since Murph’s usually at my house.

With those three being best pals, they’re not constantly trying to break the ice with unknown dogs. Though they do let most other dogs join in.

But I’ve also seen them shut out a few dogs.

Which brings me to . . .

Third, Gracie is discerning. Much more so than LuLu or Murphy.

That statement isn’t favoritism on my part. Clara and Teague say the same thing. LuLu can be somewhat skittish around the nicest of new dogs. Murph is sure everyone loves him. Gracie picks and chooses.

Once, after a brief encounter with a new dog, she came running to where Clara and I sat atop the picnic table and stared at me, yawning and shaking herself off like she was wet when it was a perfectly dry day. Clara and I looked at each other for a beat, then gathered the other dogs and left.

Not long after, that new dog picked up a smaller dog that liked to hang out in the big-dog enclosure and shook it. Hard. The little dog recovered, but the incident rattled the community.

That cemented my faith in Gracie’s discernment.

At this moment Gracie displayed not one iota of discernment as she galloped across the open field, her tail whipping around.

As we approached, Donna gestured to Hattie that she could greet us. The gray-muzzled elder stateswoman of the dog park said hello without the frenetic energy of our three dogs, while showing more enthusiasm for our company than Donna did.

Though I’d come to suspect that was a front. If Donna didn’t want to talk to us, she wouldn’t.

“Hi Donna, how nice to see you again,” Clara said without a drop of irony. “We didn’t get a chance to do more than say hello last night.”

Donna grunted.

“Did your granddaughter enjoy the class?”

“Don’t know about enjoy. She’s taking it seriously, as she should.”

“She did such a good job with Bernie.”

Another grunt, but this one didn’t mask that Donna was pleased by the praise.