J. Paul Cooper

The Poodle and the Golfer

Bethany turned over and pulled the pillow over her head, trying to block the irritating moaning coming from the bathroom. Realizing there was no way she’d get back to sleep until after husband Harold left, she stood up and put on her bathrobe. She didn’t want to be up. It was a Saturday morning, and it wasn’t even seven o’clock yet. Bethany walked to the partly opened bathroom door. She leaned against the frame and spoke with a soft, sweet voice, “Has the hot water helped your neck and back honey?”

“No,” Harold replied from the shower, “I’m still in agony.”

She smiled. “Good!”

“Why did you say that, eh?”

Bethany shook her head in frustration. Harold just didn’t get it, regardless of how many times she warned him. Bethany had been teaching fitness classes for ten years. She understood the damage that could be done if someone who wasn’t physically active, tried to keep up with someone several years younger and in much better shape. As usual, Harold had ignored her advice.

Walking down the hallway, Bethany stopped briefly and opened a bedroom door. She looked at their daughter Sarah and wished she could sleep like that. Sarah was seventeen years old and the only thing that would wake her up before eleven was her boyfriend’s motorcycle.

Harold was up early that Saturday morning, because he was going to play a round of golf with his younger brother Jeff, who had booked a 7:30 am tee time.

Every summer Jeff and his family travelled to Nova Scotia from Toronto. Harold’s younger brother looked forward to hiking, mountain biking, ocean kayaking – just about any activity that involved straining muscles. Jeff was a nice enough guy, but Bethany was glad he only came once a year. He was the reason that Harold had made a fool of himself the night before, falling off a mountain bike.

Bethany sat at the kitchen table, sipping a coffee and reading the newspaper. Harold walked up to the kitchen counter. He moaned and slowly raised his right arm to take a coffee mug down from the cupboard. To try and avoid the shock of natural movement to his neck and back, he turned his whole body to face Jessica. She looked at him over the top of her newspaper.

“Don’t bother telling me how much your neck and back hurt Harold. I have no sympathy for you.”

“What’s your problem?”

“I warned you,” replied Bethany, “that if you went mountain biking, trying to keep up with Jeff, you’d hurt yourself.”

Harold sighed. They’d been over this a thousand times before. “You don’t understand; you don’t have a younger brother.”

Bethany put down the newspaper and glared at Harold. “I’m going to try and explain this one more time. You are a forty-six year old Chartered Accountant. You have an office job. You never lift weights or swim or jog. You like to relax with model trains.”

“What’s wrong with model trains?”

“There’s nothing wrong with model trains, but your brother is a thirty-nine-year old police officer who teaches karate. That means that he’s in better shape, and he stretches regularly.”

“That’s it, rub it in.”

“Rub what in?”

“I know he looks like a movie star, and I look like a fry cook at some fast food restaurant. That doesn’t mean he’s better than me.”

“I’m not saying he’s better than you, I’m saying your lifestyles are not at all the same. It makes a difference.”

Harold looked at his watch. “Speaking of Jeff, I have to meet him at the golf course in thirty minutes.”

Harold finished his last sip of coffee and winced in pain as he bent over to put the mug in the dishwasher. Bethany folded her arms. “I’m not putting your golf clubs in the car for you. Perhaps if you suffer enough this time, you’ll use more common sense the next time Jeff visits.”

Harold took the keys off the rack by the microwave oven, and offered his wife a smug grin. “I don’t need your help. My clubs are still in the car from the last time I played. It’s a thirty minute drive to the course. I’m going to drop by the drug store to get some muscle relaxants before I leave Bedford. Even if I start off a little stiff, I can still beat him. Jeff may be in better shape than me, but he’s not a better golfer.”

Bethany held the newspaper up again. “I give up. Just get going. You can make an appointment with the physiotherapist when you get home.”

Harold looked over the top of the newspaper. “Do you still love me?”

“Yes, but at the moment I love a fool.”

#

The luxury sedan sped along the highway towards Halifax. It was a forty minute drive from the airport to the city. Frank sat next to his wife’s poodle, Cuddles in the backseat. He wanted to sit next to his wife, Jasmine but Cuddles liked to sit in the middle.  Their relationship had seen better days and Frank hoped that this vacation would be a chance to patch things up, before Jasmine asked for a divorce.

A forty-foot yacht was waiting for them in Halifax harbour, but Frank had arranged for them to spend their first night in a hotel downtown. If everything went according to plan, they’d enjoy a lobster dinner at a local restaurant, and then they’d return to their hotel and share some champagne in the hot tub. Tony, their driver and bodyguard would take Cuddles for a drive and return later in the evening. Frank couldn’t keep Cuddles away all night, just long enough to spend some time alone with his wife.

Frank was trying to remain calm, but he hated delays, and his wife Jasmine wanted to make a detour halfway to the city from the airport. “Why can’t the dog wait until we get to Halifax to have a drink?  We’re already over halfway there. It takes less than an hour to drive from the airport to the city. She’ll survive for another twenty minutes!”

Jasmine glared at him from the other side of the backseat. “Cuddles is unsettled from the trip.”

“Unsettled?” Frank rolled his eyes. “The dog traveled with us in a private jet and ate caviar!”

“It wasn’t her favourite brand. You should have called the charter company and made sure they had the right type of caviar on the plane. Cuddles is very particular.”

“Are you saying it’s my fault?”

Jasmine kissed Cuddles on the snout. “Well, it certainly isn’t your fault, is it Cuddles?”

Frank looked at his wife and smiled. With her long, slim legs and shoulder length red hair, it was no wonder it was hard to say no to her. She was forty-three years old, and

she could still turn the heads of men twenty years younger. The most powerful crime boss in Canada could have a man killed just by making a phone call, but he couldn’t make Cuddles wait for a drink of water.

Frank knew there was more at stake than losing a beautiful wife. If Jasmine decided to ask for a divorce, it would be a disaster. She could ask for every cent he

owned, and he’d have to give it to her…if he wanted to live. Her family had connections with powerful crime syndicates in the United States. It was one thing to intimidate local crime bosses in Halifax or Winnipeg, but dealing with organizations from New York or Las Vegas was another story altogether.

Jasmine looked up at the rearview mirror and noticed that Tony was grinning. “So, you think getting Cuddles bottled water is funny, do you Tony? If Cuddles gets sick because she’s upset, it won’t be me cleaning up after her.”

When Tony didn’t reply, Jasmine smiled with satisfaction.

Frank knew that when it came to Cuddles, arguing with his wife was useless. He leaned forward and tapped Tony on the shoulder. “Is there any place between the airport and Halifax where we can buy some bottled water?”

“We’re just approaching the turn off for Bedford now.”

Frank rubbed his temples. “Well, we better stop. We don’t want to keep Cuddles waiting.”

Cuddles stood up and licked Frank’s face.

Jasmine leaned over and kissed Frank’s cheek. “How can you be so grouchy, when Cuddles loves you so much?”

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