Aces Wild (14 page)

“Like what?”

“Everything. Eating things he’s not supposed to eat, smoking cigars, getting into a fender bender, going out dancing with lots of different ladies …”

“And that’s upsetting to you?” asked Mrs. Wright.

“Uh-huh,” I admitted.

“I see,” said Mrs. Wright. And then, “
Lots
of different ladies?”

I nodded meekly.

“How many is lots?”

“Three,”
I whispered. “That we know of.”

“Oh my,” said Mrs. Wright.

“You can’t tell him I told you!” I said.

To my surprise, Mrs. Wright laughed out loud.

“Zelly, hon,” she said, “let me tell you a story about a lady I know. She married her college sweetheart, the love of her life. He was smart and clever, a real charmer. He had a gorgeous singing voice and a full head of hair. And I can assure you, that is a tough combination to come by! But the thing is, this man, he passed away.”

“I’m sorry,” I said, because that’s what people said when they heard about Bubbles. It’s what you’re supposed to say, even if you didn’t know the person.

“Thank you, sweetie,” she said. “Anyway, this lady, she was alone for a while. But she realized it wasn’t so great, being alone. So when she met a new friend or two who would take her out for a coffee, maybe even take her dancing, she began to see that there was something nice in that. Even if they weren’t the love of her life. Does that make sense?”

“Not really,” I admitted.

“Your grandpa’s grieving,” said Mrs. Wright. “So if going dancing distracts him from his pain, then maybe he needs to go dancing right now.”

“Ace isn’t grieving,” I informed her, almost starting to laugh at the idea. “He never gets sad or cries or anything. I mean, I don’t cry so much about my grandma anymore, but—” And then I realized I was crying. Mrs. Wright pulled the car over and found me a Kleenex in her purse. I blew my nose and rubbed my eyes. Ace-the-dog happily slurped up my salty tears. Rosie paced nervously in her crate.

“I’m sorry,” I said.

“Don’t be,” said Mrs. Wright. “Two things, kiddo,” she said to me. “One, your grandma was special. No one will ever take her place. In your heart or your grandpa’s. Two, we all grieve in our own time and our own way. Trust me, I know.”

I nodded, mostly by way of saying thanks. I was still pretty
sure she was wrong about Ace grieving. But even so, Mrs. Wright made me feel a little better.

“Yapp!”
added Rosie from her crate.

And then Mrs. Wright turned around in her seat again, pulled her car back into traffic, and drove me the rest of the way home.

“How was the party?” I asked Allie on the phone the next day.

“Actually, not so great,” she said.

“Oh?” I asked, perking up.

“I mean, it was okay,” said Allie.

“Did you get to stay up all night?”

“Almost,” said Allie. “That was fun, but Hailey was being super-bossy. She got mad at her stepmom over nothing and locked herself in the bathroom and wouldn’t come out. Total drama queen.”

“Wow,” I said, making mental notes for if I ever got to have a sleepover.
Don’t be bossy, no drama
.

“And get this: she said to bring movies, but then she didn’t want to watch anything anyone brought. I brought
Bringing Up Baby
, and she was like, ‘Ugh, that’s not even in color!’ ”

“Seriously?” I asked, secretly thrilled. I had given Allie a DVD of that movie after my dad made us both watch it—I think Allie and I said, “Ugh, it’s not even in color!” at the time, but I wasn’t about to remind her of that—and we’d decided it was our favorite movie of all time.

“Yeah,” said Allie. “It was pretty lame. Your sleepover is going to be soooo much better.”

I couldn’t help smiling. “It totally is,” I agreed.

There was just one little problem.

One little, furry, floppy-eared, brown and white problem.

Fine
, I told myself.
You can do this. You still have a month. You just need to work that much harder
. I made myself a list of all the things I could do:

On Sunday evening, after Ace broke his stay for at least the fifty seven millionth time and attacked a spider plant, I added one more thing:

I picked up the phone and dialed. A little while later, the doorbell rang.

“Dr. Pavlov, at your service,” said Jeremy, bowing formally, one hand on his kipa.

“Thank goodness you’re here, Doctor. There’s not a moment to lose!” I replied, letting him in.

I had pretty much begged him to come over and help me solve Ace’s behavioral problems. “You know how I usually tell you not to get all shrinky?” I had asked him. “Well, for this, bring it on—the shrinkier the better. We need to figure out why Ace won’t do what he’s supposed to do in order to make him stop.”

“You mean start?” asked Jeremy.

“Stop, start, whatever. Make him pass the test!”

Jeremy must have been thrilled about the chance to go all mad scientist on my dog, because when he showed up on my doorstep, he was rubbing his hands excitedly.

“Where’s the patient?” he asked.

“Destroying something, I’m sure,” I told him. “Come on, let’s get to work.”

“What I wouldn’t give for you to have that attitude about math tests,” called my mom from the mudroom. She emerged fully immersed in outerwear, from the soles of her tall Sorel boots to the pom-pom atop her knitted hat.

“Can I have a sleepover if I ace a math test?” I asked.

“Nice try,” said my mom. “Nate, you ready to go?”

“Almost,” said my dad, carrying his boots in and sitting down in front of the woodstove. “Thanks again, Zellybean, for agreeing to stay here and keep an eye on the Sam-wich.”

“Yeah, it was a tough decision,” I said sarcastically. “You know how I hate to miss a good square dance.”

“Laugh if you want, but I hear it’s hip to be square,” said my dad, lacing up his boots.

“I seriously doubt that,” I said.

“It’s true. Just ask Ace,” insisted my mom. “He has been going every Sunday night for months. Apparently, your dog-training teacher goes dancing there too.”

I froze, remembering how I had warned Mrs. Wright about Ace’s shenanigans. Wait, what had she said to Ace that evening she drove us both home?
Eight o’clock Sunday? It’s a date
, Ace had replied.

Oh no. She was talking about square dancing.

What an idiot I was!
She already knew he went dancing. In fact, she was one of his many dance partners. What’s more, she was okay with it.
Everyone grieves in their own time and their own way
. Was Mrs. Wright wiser than I realized? Was Mrs. Wright, well,
right?

After my parents put Sam to bed and headed out, Jeremy and I got to work. We pushed all the living room furniture around to make space for a sort of makeshift practice ring.

“Okay, what’s the plan?” asked Jeremy.

“Well, in class we practice commands with the dogs and give them treats if they do them right. As they get better, you’re supposed to give them fewer treats.”

“Food is a good motivator?” asked Jeremy, pulling out a little notebook and jotting down this important detail.

I rolled my eyes. “Jeremy, duh? Have you spent any time with dogs? Ace tried to eat a pincushion because it looked like a tomato. Even Bridgie will work for food, and I don’t think she can smell anymore.”

“Okay, so what else motivates him?”

I thought for a second. “Praise, I guess. On the rare
occasion when he’s actually being good. Hey, Ace, stop! No! Drop it!”

Ace froze, one of my gloves sticking out of his mouth. His tail wagging slightly—
Who, me?
—he tried to wiggle his way out of the room without actually dropping it. I lunged at him, grabbing his collar and reclaiming the now-slimy glove.

“Reprimand … not … a … deterrent,” observed Jeremy, scribbling furiously.

“Nope!” I said cheerfully. “Nothing makes him stop. Not spraying him with water, or yelling, or taking stuff away, or anything else. I mean, we don’t hit him, obviously, but none of the stuff that’s supposed to work does. He’s completely clueless.”

“You mean fearless.”

Fearless? Ace?
I suddenly remembered something. “Actually, no. There
is
one thing that stops him in his tracks,” I said. “Wait here. You’ve got to see this.” I ran up to my room and came back down with …

“O.J.!” said Jeremy. “I didn’t know you still had him.”

Meanwhile, Ace stood frozen, his eyes on the jug in my hands. “Watch this,” I told Jeremy. “Sorry,” I apologized to Ace in advance. And then I held up O.J. and gave him a good shake.

RAH-KAH-RAH-KAH-RAK
went the coins inside.

“Hrnnnnnn!”
whimpered Ace miserably, immediately flattening himself on the floor at the first sound of The Awful Noise.

“Whoa!” said Jeremy. I held O.J. silent for a moment while
Ace slowly got up, shook himself, and walked over to the couch, eyeing O.J. suspiciously.

“I know,” I agreed. “Isn’t that weird?”

“What’s in there?”

I took the cap off O.J., poured some of the coins out into my hand, and showed him. “Just money,” I said.

“So, O.J. is a tzedakah jug now?”

“A what?”

“It’s where you keep loose change, you know, for charity. At Hebrew school, they hand out these blue metal boxes you can use, but a jug is kind of cool.”

Ace wandered over, still timid but clearly not wanting to miss out in case it was food. I showed Ace the handful of coins too. “See?” I said.

“Don’t be afraid,” said Jeremy. “It’s just change. Hey, that’s funny. He’s
afraid of change
. Get it?”

“You can see why I can’t use O.J. to train him,” I added. “It’s too mean.”

“Yeah,” agreed Jeremy. “Well, okay, do you have something that makes a sound but doesn’t make so much noise?”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know. How about something that makes a clicking noise.”

I stared at him. “Have you been talking to my grandpa?”

“No, why?”

“Because he’s got this knitting thing that used to be my grandma’s, and he’s started clicking it at Ace.”

“Wow! He’s clicker-training him?”

“It’s a real thing? I thought he made it up. I mean, he also thought it would be a good idea to train Ace using Yiddish.”

“Yeah, it’s real. Lots of professional animal trainers use some variety of clicker training. The dolphin trainers at the New England Aquarium use it too.”

“Okay, well, I wish he’d explained that. Hang on.”

I ran to Ace’s room and got the clicker off his nightstand.

“Ace, sit!” I said.
Click, click
.

Ace cocked his head to one side and stared at me.
Click, click
, I tried again. Ace walked over and tried to take the clicker out of my hand. With his mouth.

“No, Ace!” I said, holding it out of reach. Ace barked, then put his paws up on my legs to try to reach it.

“It’s impressive,” said Jeremy. “In my entire professional career, I’ve never seen anyone so determined to do the wrong thing.”

“Just like my grandpa,” I said. “Did I mention that on top of everything else, my dog-training teacher’s in love with him?”

“So, that makes four girlfriends that we know of?” asked Jeremy.

“I really hope not.” I sighed. “So, tell it to me straight, Doc. Is he a hopeless case?” I thought about the man with the Great Dane shaking his head and asking if Ace had ADHD.

“I don’t think so,” said Jeremy. “Just because Ace isn’t perfect, you shouldn’t throw everything out the window.”

“I’m not throwing anything out the window. I’m just trying to get Ace to stop being so … Ace!”

“Wait, which Ace are you talking about?” asked Jeremy.

“Who’s on first?” I replied, smiling.

“I don’t know,” said Jeremy.

“Third base!” we both said together. He knows the routine almost as well as Sam.

“Jinx!” I yelled. Jeremy started waving his arms wildly almost immediately. There’s nothing Jeremy hates as much as not being allowed to talk.