Sam recognized Madeline Singer from pictures he’d seen in Newfies And Their Friends. In her forties, tall, with a ruddy complexion and short brown hair, she was wearing a sheep skin vest over a blue work shirt. Her jeans were tucked into knee-high rubber boots and she was standing in water that came almost to the top of the boots. As the dogs began to bark and surge up the incline toward Sam, she turned and yelled at them to stop. They did, about five feet from Sam who froze, pulling his arms tightly around himself.

“They won’t hurt you,” she called, lifting her boots out of the water at each step as she waded toward the bank. “You Sam Langley?” she called.

“Yes.” He started to say he was early.

“You’re early.” She said it for him. “I’d of had them in the yard if you’d waited till eleven.”

“Sorry. Guess I’m still on eastern standard time,” Sam said with an apologetic laugh. “I met your husband. He said I might find you down here.”

As she neared him, one of the dogs nosed her hand. In his mouth was a long rubber float tied to a short line. She took it and sent it sailing out into the pond. Several dogs chased into the water after it and swam to the float.

Turning back to Sam she studied him, cautiously, as one might assess the legitimacy of a door-to-door salesman. “You’ve come a long way just to look at a dog kennel.”

“I have,” Sam said, trying to remain upbeat. “I wanted to meet you, maybe even buy one of your dogs.”

Her reply was guarded. “I’m careful who I sell to.”

One of the dogs brought her the float and dropped it at her feet. “May I throw it?” Sam asked. She shrugged.

He bent down, caught hold of the lanyard and twirled the float over his head like David’s sling shot, sending it flying far out into the pond. The charge began to retrieve it. Sam and Madeline stood side by side watching the dogs thrash about in the water until one succeeded in catching hold of the float and led the pack toward shore.

Feeling he might be making headway, Sam returned to the subject of the puppy. “I wasn’t thinking of right away, but some time in the future.”

“That’s good because I like to know the people who take my dogs. Newfies require a lot of room and a lot of love. I’ve got a waiting list that goes to the end of next year.” Then, like a reluctant host, she said, “Come on. I’ll show you around.”

Walking toward the barns, Sam asked, “How many dogs do you have?”

“About thirty. Most are ours but a few are boarded. They’re a full time job. One of the bitches whelped this morning and we’ve got two more due today. We’re getting some help with them, though. That’s why I couldn’t let you use the guest cottage. The couple helping will stay there.”

They had reached the dog barn when Sam said, “I recognize this view of the barns from one of Susan Lang’s pictures in Newfies And Their Friends.”

“Uh huh,” Madeline said.

“Do you know her well?” he asked.

“As well as you can know anyone in a month.” Her quick glance at him said it really wasn’t any of his business. “That’s the dog barn up there,” she said nodding up the path. They finished the trek in silence.

Pulling open the sliding door at the back of the barn, they went in. The interior was a maze of chain link cubicles. Several dogs bounded up to their fences to say hello, their barks echoing through the barn. She led him through the cages to the next section of the barn where there were six whelping boxes not unlike Annie’s. All were empty except one in which a bitch lay nursing six squirming puppies. Sitting among them was a young woman leaning against the side of the box. She blinked her eyes and stretched.

“This is our daughter, Julia,” Madeline said. And to Julia, “This is Sam Langley.”

Julia stood. She seemed to be about sixteen or seventeen and had long straight blond hair and a smooth complexion interrupted by a slight case of acne around her chin. She was tall and slender. “Will you be helping with the whelping?” she asked.

“I wouldn’t mind,” Sam said, “but I think someone else is coming for that. I’m here to talk with your mother about getting a puppy,” Sam said good humoredly. Julia raised her eyes, apparently surprised that strangers should be talking to her mother about a puppy.

Sam cocked his head and said to Julia. “Didn’t I see your picture in the book about Pinnacle Kennel?”

Julia wrinkled her nose disgustedly. “That was two years ago. I look like a dork in that picture.”

“I don’t think so. It’s my favorite picture in the book. You look like Botticelli’s Venus.” The photo showed a slim and freckled Julia standing in the pond with a dozen Newfies. Julia, unconvinced, frowned.

Anxious to get going, Madeline said, “Come on up to the house. We can talk.”

This is it, Sam worried. She’s going to tell me she’ll keep me in mind and then say good bye. Two thousand miles for nothing.

They entered the kitchen which Sam had seen only briefly when he helped John bring in the groceries. John was still there, putting them away. From the kitchen Sam could see into the dining room and beyond that to the living room. Several Newfs occupied the living room chairs and appeared to be watching TV.

“You’d better listen to that last message on the answering machine,” John said to his wife. With a troubled look, she pressed the message button.

The machine whirred and clicked, then said, Madeline, this is Myrtle. Sorry to call you at this late date, but Mack went to hospital last night with a burst appendix. He’s gonna be all right, but he’s got to lay low for a couple of weeks or more. I’ll have to take care of him, so we won’t be able to help you out with the whelping. I’m sorry as I can be. Good luck finding somebody else.

“Poor Mack,” Madeline said, then with a forlorn look, asked John, “Any ideas?”

“Beats me,” he said shaking his head. “I might be able to help some, but I’m gonna be in Regina for most of the next few days with the Commission.”

Sam was listening from the door to the dining room. He knew about the long, sleepless hours that went with caring for new-born pups, but volunteering would give him a reason to stay longer.

“I could help,” he ventured. “I’ve helped with pups right after they were born.”

Madeline, ignoring his offer, said to her husband, “We’re really in a spot.”

John shrugged, then nodded toward Sam, “He says he’ll help.”

“Come on, John,” she said. “He’s here to talk about a puppy.”

“I really would like to help,” Sam said.

“I couldn’t possibly ask you. It’s a long, tiring job.” Her eyes went back to her husband whose expression suggested he didn’t think she had a choice. She looked again at Sam. “Are you serious?”

“I came all the way out here and I’m in no hurry to go back.”

Madeline sighed, resigned to working with a novice. “It’s not that hard. Julia and I can handle the whelping, but we can use you after they’re born to make sure the puppies are comfortable and don’t get laid on by their mommies.”

“I’ve done that with Annie Haas who called you about the appointment.”

“Good. If you can help for two or three days that’ll give us time to get somebody else. We’re prepared to pay you for your time.”

Sam laughed, “That’s not necessary. But if you think I qualify for one of your puppies, you could move me up on your waiting list.”

“I’ll think about that,” she said with the hint of a smile. “Now, let’s have some lunch, then you get your things from the motel and move into the cottage.” She started for the refrigerator, and stopped. Looking at Sam, she said, “Thanks.”
* * *
After Sam checked out of the motel in Moose Jaw, he stopped at a general store and bought a flannel shirt and overalls so he’d be ready for the whelping boxes. By the time he’d reached Pinnacle the dark clouds he’d seen that morning had arrived bringing with them a steady rain. He parked next to the cottage, and clutching his luggage and purchases, ran through the rain to the door. The cottage had one large room on the first floor which was divided into a small kitchen, an eating area and a living room with fireplace. Upstairs was a bathroom and two bedrooms. He chose the larger one and unpacked his bag. Donning the stiff new clothes and feeling like a city slicker, he set out to find Madeline.

The house was empty except for some dogs lying in the living room where the TV was still on, so he went to the barn. Madeline and Julia were in the whelping room each sitting over a bitch in the throes of birthing.

“You’re just in time,” Madeline said. “Sam, you watch the babies that were born last night.” He hung his jacket on a hook, rolled up his sleeves and sat on the edge of the whelping box in which the puppies were nursing. Madeline, in the box next to him, said, “This is Katie,” referring to the tired looking bitch lying in front of her. “She’s delivered two and there’s more to come.” The bitch was lying on her side, her tail raised and her hips and stomach muscles contracting. The towels that had lined the box so neatly that morning, were now covered with a mucky, dark brown fluid. The newborn pups were in a pasteboard box lined with a heating pad. “She’s doing fine,” Madeline explained, referring to Katie, “but don’t stare at her. Whelping’s a private matter.”

Sam checked the pups in the box to which he was assigned. One had wandered away from her mother and was nosing a wrinkle in the towel covering the floor. He picked her up and pressed her tiny mouth against the nipple. She began sucking. Sam knew Madeline was watching him from the corner of her eye. When she looked back at Katie, he felt he’d passed muster.

“Here comes the next one,” Madeline said holding the bitch’s tail up. The pup slid out like a well oiled package and Madeline caught it in a towel. Ignoring the dark, visceral mass of afterbirth attached to the pup, she tore open the birthing sac covering the head and sucked fluid from the pup’s mouth. Sam gagged as he watched, glad he wasn’t involved in this part of the whelping. Madeline took a clean towel and rubbed the pup vigorously, pinching it once on the back of the neck to get a sharp squeak from the newborn. Turning it over she saw a bean-sized penis and declared, “He’s doing fine.” Then she pinched off the umbilical cord, tying it with a piece of dental floss, and put him in the box with the other two babies.

Sam kept his eye on the puppies in his charge. When they latched onto the nipple their little tails arched with satisfaction. When they were full they slid from the faucet and lay curled in the warmth of their brothers and sisters.

During a lull, he asked Madeline, “Did Susan Lang get any pictures of the whelping?”

“I think she took a few when she first came, but that was about it.”

Sam laughed. “Too involved with helping, huh?”

“I don’t remember exactly why she stopped taking pictures of this.” Her answer sounded evasive.

Julia piped up. “I do. Remember that night when one of the puppies she was helping died. It was strange. She just went to pieces. Had to leave.”

Sam tried to picture Sarah going to pieces over the death of a pup. How unlike the Sarah he’d known. When the kids were young, pet gerbils died, parakeets expired and kittens got run over, and through it all she was the one who never winced. She’d prepare the little bodies for burial in the back yard, and comforted the children with stories of pet heaven.

When the last of the pups was born, Madeline asked Julia to go up to the house and fix sandwiches. “Bring us a couple of sandwiches and then relax until eight. You take the first watch till two o’clock, and Sam and I will take it until morning.”

Sam was so dead asleep he couldn’t imagine why an alarm was ringing. When he finally awoke he didn’t know where he was. The sound of the alarm drew a flapping hand to the bedside table in search of the clock. He knocked over a glass of water before his waving arm discovered the lamp shade and he switched on the light. He turned off the alarm and put his feet down onto a cold, wet carpet. Fortunately the glass hadn’t shattered. The clock said one-thirty. He dressed in the same clothes and went to the house where he found Madeline in the kitchen.

“Early, huh?” she asked. Sam nodded. “Have a cup of coffee. There’s milk and sugar over there. Bacon and eggs okay with you?”

“That’d be fine. Can I help?”

“Yeah. Get out a couple of plates and forks. How’d you sleep?”

“Like a rock.”

She finished frying the eggs and said, “I’ll leave this stuff out so Julia can eat.”

After breakfast they went to the barn through a wind blown rain. Julia reported to Madeline on the condition of the mothers and the puppies, all of whom were doing fine, and she left.

“You watch Julia’s box and I’ll take the ones we were in. The mother might want to go outside to pee. When she comes back make sure she doesn’t lie on the pups. If you see a pup getting sluggish, let me know.” Sam said he would and settled down onto a pillow placed against the low wall that separated the boxes.

The room was warm and smelled with the rich odor of dog. Outside the wind rattled the windows and the rain beat on the roof. He watched the puppies squirm their way to their mother’s teats and snuggle up against her warmth. “What’s this one’s name?” he asked Madeline.

“Cindy,” she said.

“Hi Cindy,” Sam said to her.

She raised her head and looked at him. Then got up, pulling herself away from her puppies, and lay down beside him. He leaned across her and one by one brought the puppies to her side where they again found a spot to nurse. Cindy put her big head in his lap. Sam rubbed her ears and dug his fingers into the fur around her neck.

Resisting sleep’s soft seduction, he thought about Sarah. He felt sure she’d been here in this barn, staying in the same cottage, maybe even in his bed. He would have to be careful to let Madeline tell him about her in her own good time.

Chapter Twenty