Free The Art of Floating by Kristin Bair O’Keeffe Page A

nodded.
    â€œYou hung this sign?”
    Sia nodded again.
    â€œAnd do you still have this dog?”
    Sia almost nodded a third time, but instead she said, “Why do you want to know? Have you lost this dog?”
    â€œAh,” the Dogcatcher said, “ah.” There was a long pause. “I think I know this dog,” she finally said. “And I need to know if this is the dog you know.”
    What?
Sia thought.
Do I
know
this dog? What kind of a question is that? Did I
find
this dog? Yes. Do I still
have
this dog? Yes. But do I know
this
dog?
    â€œI’m not sure what you mean,” Sia said. “You think you
know
this dog?”
    â€œYes, yes, that is what I said, and yes, that is exactly what I mean.”
    Sia took a deep breath. “Well, is the dog yours?” She very much wanted to bring the conversation back to something that made sense.
    â€œI didn’t say that,” the Dogcatcher answered. “I said—”
    â€œI know what you said.”
    They stood there for a moment—the Dogcatcher shaking the sign and Sia wagging her head back and forth in disbelief.
    â€œWell,” the Dogcatcher finally said, “I don’t see the dog now. I smell him, but I don’t see him.” She lifted her nose and poked it as close to the entryway as Sia would allow. Then she sniffed three short, loud sniffs.
    â€œNo,” Sia said, “you’re right. The dog was here, but he’s not now.” It was a lie, but not a total lie. Gumper was not
right
there.
    â€œFine,” the Dogcatcher said, leaning close to Sia and sniffing again. “But if you see him, tell him I’m looking for him.” She handed Sia a business card with a dog’s pawprint stamped in black ink. Nothing else. “Give him this.”
    â€œGive him this?” Sia said. She looked at the card and then at the woman. Give Gumper a business card? “But there’s no name or phone number on this card,” she finally said.
    â€œHe doesn’t need it. He is a dog, you know. The card will do. He’ll know well enough.” And the Dogcatcher turned and hurried across the porch and down the steps to the sidewalk. When she reached the street, she swung left, then right, and finally settling in the direction of town, scurried along the road and disappeared around the bend.
    â€¢Â Â â€¢Â Â â€¢
    That night, when Sia told Jackson about the Dogcatcher and showed him the card, he laughed so hard he fell off his chair. “Hon, she’s just some crackpot. Harmless, I’m sure. Probably collects lost-dog signs and visits the finder families with her card as something to do. She’s lonely, isn’t she?” He reached over and rubbed Sia’s belly, where other people’s loneliness always took root.
    She nodded.
    â€œHarmless,” he said.
    Strangely, the woman’s visit confirmed to Jackson that Gumper was theirs to keep. From that moment on, Gumper was one of the family.
    â€¢Â Â â€¢Â Â â€¢
    Shortly before they all went to bed, the Dogcatcher walked along Sia’s road watching Gumper happily galumph through the house. The lights were on and his big head was visible in the windows wherever he went. He was happy. Home. She heard Sia calling him, “Gumper! Gumper!” And the Dogcatcher said it in her head, “Gumper galumph. Gumper galumph.” She watched until the lights went out.

CHAPTER 21
    FromM’s perch in the tree:
    I MISS YOU
LET ME IN. MY BUM IS SORE
TEARS . . . DRIP, DRIP, DRIP
    â€¢Â Â â€¢Â Â â€¢
    Then in the middle of the night, “Stuart?” M shook him. “Stuart?”
    â€œMmmmmm.” He rolled onto his back.
    â€œOur girl . . .”
    Stuart sighed, turned, and wrapped his arms around his wife. “I know, darling. I feel it, too. But you have to believe.”
    â€œIn what?”
    â€œHer. Remember Odysseus. He made it