Sleeps with Dogs Read Online Free Page B

now officially add Secretary, capital S , to my title—the kind that sits on a board, though, not behind a desk. I’ll be taking down and presenting the minutes at each meeting of the local pet-sitters’ association, and I get to include official-sounding things like, “Respectfully submitted.” Just like Kinsey Millhone! Dream realized. My pencils are sharpened and my new notebook is ready for tonight’s meeting. Maybe I should get a clipboard, too?

CHAPTER TWO
    Wild Birds of the East Bay

    T he bungalow, with its terra-cotta tiled roof and wide front porch, had a deliberately wild-looking front garden. Fruit trees and bright colors dominated the otherwise tidy space, the recently mowed lawn enclosed by a low, natural wood fence. Still unused to the typical Californian abundance of produce hanging at eye level, so different from the soaring oaks in the south of my childhood, I resisted the urge to pluck a lemon from the branch nearest me before ascending the front steps.
    What I knew before meeting Bev: she had seven birds—two cockatiels, two parrots, two budgies, and a conure—plus two vizslas, Hungarian hunting dogs. She was going to Bermuda for her daughter’s wedding.
    When Bev opened the door, my impression was midsixties, beautiful, and braless. I was even more impressed by how completely the house was given over to the animals. Birdcages linedthe open-plan living room and dining room like furniture, and the couches and chairs were covered in dog blankets and the dogs themselves: lean, with sleek brick-colored coats, mustard yellow eyes, and floppy, velvety looking ears. At only thirty-five pounds or so, their short fur and lithe little bodies conveyed strength and speed. They regarded me with comfortable indifference. Guard dogs they were not.
    Bev offered me tea, and a mammoth binder filled with full-color bird biographies, each in its own plastic sleeve. We took a tour of the birds while sipping pungent Lapsang Souchong that tasted like a campfire.
    We started in the office in the back corner of the house, which opened out onto an expansive back patio. This was the territory of the budgies—palm-sized, neon-colored noisemakers, from what I’d experienced of these parakeets in the past. They were louder than they were large. According to his profile, Echo—electric green to Bindi’s more muted blue—was a biter. He and Bindi shared the office with Nora, a blue-crowned conure.
    I can’t say I’d ever seen a conure before, or, if I had, I didn’t realize I was looking at one. Nora was emerald green up to her neck, where the blue crown took over, her head fully feathered in aquamarine.
    â€œShe responds to ‘Be quiet!’ Or you can just put a sheet over her cage.” As if on cue, Nora emitted a screech that I feared might sonicate my bones. Bev looked entirely unruffled, while I was pretty sure I’d peed in my pants a little.
    In the middle room, which was more of a hallway between the back of the house and the kitchen, lived Aphrodite and Sterling, both cockatiels.
    â€œAphrodite curses in Spanish. And she is the loudest.” I felt certain that it was scientifically impossible for her to be any louder than Nora, but I nodded.
    â€œShe also replies to ‘Be quiet,’ but she may mouth off at you,” Bev said with a smirk.
    I rested my tea on a shelf in the walk-through to free up my hand to take some notes of my own. Nora: holy shit, loud. Aphrodite swears.
    In college, my thesis advisor had a talking parrot named Liebling, an African gray. At every meeting, Dr. James proudly showed me the updated list of words that she’d taught the bird.
    I was writing my thesis on the nonfiction works of Barbara Kingsolver. I fancied myself an ardent nature- and animal-lover and was an enthusiastic captive audience when Dr. James got talking about her pets. In addition to Liebling, she had two outrageously fluffy American Eskimos.