TUESDAY TALES - GLUED

 

Welcome! This week we have a less-charged episode of "The Painting". Thee word prompt is glued. Don't forget to hop on over and read the wonderful stories by the other Tuesday Tales authors. Find those stories HERE. 

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He pulled out his phone. “I can get the painting to you the week after,” Reid said.

“We’ll meet here again. Same bench? Next Thursday. Gotta be noon, though,” Sandy said.

“Noon works.” He made a notation in his calendar. “You can replicate the painting exactly?” 

“Yes.”

He pushed to his feet. "Next time I'll bring my dog. Do you want money upfront?”

“When it’s done.”

He moved toward the gate. Sandy stood and stretched.

A loud growl followed by a bark drew their attention. A small, white, fluffy little dog came tear-assing down the dog run toward Reid with a mammoth German Shepherd racing in hot pursuit.

The little pooch leaped into the air, right at Reid, who caught him and chested the small animal. He turned his back to the shepherd. The larger animal came around and lunged toward the little dog, but Reid turned again, keeping the little one out of reach. “Call off your dog!” he hollered as the little dog trembled in Reid's arms. During his next attempt by the shepherd to get at his prey, he nipped Reid, drawing blood. He raised his foot and shoved the dog in the chest. About that time a young man came running.

“Sorry! Sorry!” he grabbed the shepherd’s collar.

“He bit me!” Reid raised his arm to examine the slow ooze of blood from his wrist.

“My dog! Pookie!” A white-haired woman, out of breath, ran up. She snatched the dog from Reid’s grasp. “Baby, are you all right?”

After a quick examination of her pooch, she turned a scowl on the young man. “You better keep that monster under control or I’m gonna call the police.”

“I’m sorry. He likes to chase small dogs. He just got away from me. He wouldn’t have hurt him.”

Reid cocked an eyebrow. “He’d have eaten that dog if given half a chance.”

The woman clutched her dog to her considerable bosom and faced Reid. “Thank you so much, Mister. You saved my dog.”

“It’s nothing.”

Sandy reached into her purse and pulled out a frilly, white cotton handkerchief. “Here,” she said thrusting it into his hand. He wound it around his small cut. “It’s getting stained. I’ll replace it.”

“Don’t bother.”

Reid glanced at his watch. “I’ve got to go. A week from Thursday. Right here,” he said.

Sandy nodded. “Yes. Right here.”

“Goodbye.” Holding the cloth tightly to his wrist, Reid Carpenter Clark turned on his heel and strode out of the dog run, heading for Riverside Drive.

With eyes glued to his back, Sandy spoke aloud to herself. “Huh. Hates Jews, loves dogs. Go figure.” She shook her head, then ambled along the winding path toward downtown.  

That's it. Thanks for stopping by.