Pitch 2

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, merchandise, companies, events and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. All characters in sexual situations are 18 years or older.

Asa wasn't prone to crying but there he was, sobbing like a baby in front of a small patch of freshly turned earth. Boo. Boo was his last connection to his late wife. Boo was just a puppy when Francis picked him out of a litter of eight, and now Boo, like Francis, was meeting his maker, having lived a full life of fourteen years.

The hot midday sun baked his face as he mourned, not just for his trusty black lab, but once again for his beloved wife. He buried Boo next to Miss Naughty, a Siamese cat that was loyal to Francis and no one else. Asa had never made his peace with Miss Naughty, but nevertheless relented when Francis insisted they mark the feline's grave with a statue of a regal looking cat. Asa vowed he would find a larger dog statue that would loom over Miss Naughty.

It was the first time in as long as he could remember that there wasn't a dog in the house. Most of the time there was more than one. And a cat or two. Now there was nothing in the large clapboard farmhouse but the ticking of a grandfather clock to disturb the peace of the expansive soybean farm.

The horse flies were worse this year, chasing Asa from his garden as he swatted his neck. He dashed into his screened porch and sat down in a tattered wicker chair, its white paint peeling off the thin reeds. He used the back of his hand to wipe the tears off his cheek, and with shoulders slumped lamented the loss of his wife and his dog. A warm breeze blew through the porch screens, pockmarked with holes, as Asa thumbed through an album of old photographs. There was a picture of Miss Naughty on the counter batting Boo's nose, with Francis watching and smiling.

A cloud of dust appeared on the long driveway and the silhouette of a 1967 Pontiac GTO emerged from it, rumbling up to the house, the driver killing the spirited engine as it rolled to a stop just a few feet from the front porch. The door opened and out jumped a nineteen year old woman, who slammed the door and dashed to the screened in porch. She was dressed in tattered jeans and a clingy white tee shirt with a colorful bandana wrapped around her head. Asa flung open the balky screen door and embraced his daughter, Penelope, or more aptly Penny (no one except Aunt Marge called her Penelope, a family name from some great aunt or something like that).

"Boo ... what happened?" she said, tears welling up in her eyes. Boo was her dog too, and the moment she heard of Boo's death she jumped into her car in Jefferson City and made her way in record time to her father's farm in downstate Concord.

Asa shrugged his weary shoulders. "He just died in his sleep. I knew something was wrong when I picked up his kibble dish and he didn't come. He was laying peacefully in his dog bed. I didn't think it was necessary to talk to the vet so I just left him a message. I just buried him in the garden an hour ago."

Penny hugged her father, squeezing him as if she was holding on for dear life. "Poor Boo. I'm going to miss him. He was my puppy ..." She started sobbing quietly in her father's arms.

"He had a good life," said Asa, saying the same thing that he told himself to quell the tears. "And was well loved." Those words were of little comfort to Penny, who lost the dog that she spent her teenage years with. Although Asa trained him not to, Boo spent most of his nights sleeping in Penny's bed and was a favorite of her girlfriends.

Father and daughter went out into the gardent o see Boo's final resting place. Penny wiped a tear off her cheek. "At least he's reunited with Miss Naughty," she sniffed, seeing that Boo was buried next to her cat.

Asa screwed up his face.

"I know ... I know, Miss Naughty wasn't the nicest to Boo, but they were friends," said the grieving young woman. She thought that her cat could do no wrong. Boo had the scratch marks on his snout to prove otherwise.

Asa ordered a pizza and the pair enjoyed a lunch together. After they were done Penny felt much better, the notion of almost fifteen years of pampered existence on a large farm probably being a dream life for a Labrador. Penny had a dinner date back home and was off before dusk.

It was good for Asa to see his daughter. It cushioned the blow of losing his dog and helped him realize as well that Boo was well-loved. He again pulled out a worn dark brown leather album from a bookshelf in his library and sat in his club chair, with a tumbler of his favorite bourbon next to him, and flipped through Boo's puppy pictures. The images brought a smile to his face as he saw a chubby black ball of fur with a pointy tail and a short nose. The album started to bring tears to his eyes when his phone started buzzing. He rarely got calls at night and wondered why he was getting this one.

"Hello?"

"Asa, Jamison Phegley. Got a minute?" Jamison was the local vet that everyone used for their dogs and cats. He went to the state university vet college and was also part of the social fabric of Concord. He was Boo's vet.

"Yep. Whatever you need."

"You left me a message about Boo. What happened?"

Asa recounted the details, now ingrained in his mind as he repeated them again. Jamison listened sympathetically and offered his condolences. Then, when Asa thought the conversation was over, Jamison said, "Got another minute?"

"Sure." Asa always had another minute with anyone he talked with, and that was one of his most endearing features.

"Asa, need a favor. There's this lady that brought in a cute black lab. Her son adopted him last week, but was called to active duty by the Marines. He left a few days ago and she's frantic. It was the boy's dog and she doesn't know the first thing about what to do. When I saw it was a black lab I thought of you. I don't know if you have time, but I'd sure appreciate it if you could give her a call."

Jamison knew Asa was good natured, and a sucker for black labs. But with Boo just passing away, he wasn't sure if Asa was in the right space to deal with a desperate woman. Asa wasn't sure either, but he mentally pictured the poor woman with a puppy that wasn't house trained. And the puppy ... it had to be brought up right. "Sure, sure, I'd be happy to call her. Text me her contact info."

"Hey, I really appreciate it. You're a good man to do this. I've got some good wine stashed in my cellar. I'll drop off a bottle as a thank you."

"No, no. I'm happy to do it. But thank you."

They said their goodbyes, and Jamison had every intention of giving him a good bottle of wine. He chuckled when he thought about the woman, forty-ish from what he could tell, who brought the dog to his office in a plastic Nordstrom's shopping bag. The dog's hind legs had poop smeared on them, as well as the woman's white canvas shoes. The dog slipped out of the bag in the waiting room and managed to chase two cats and get into a squabble with a Great Dane before one of Jamison's tech grabbed the puppy by the scruff of the neck. The lady's eyes were bloodshot. It was clear she hadn't had any sleep and was rapidly approaching wit's end. Even knowing Asa's good nature, he was worried that the woman would press him too hard just when he just lost his companion.

Asa's phone dinged, and he glanced at the text that contained the woman's name, Julia Morgan, and phone number. He walked to the refrigerator to grab a snack when he almost tripped over Boo's chew bone. He bent over to pick up the bone, and then gathered up the remaining toys that were scattered around the house. He threw the toys into Boo's toy bin, and then wondered what he would do with them. He held the chew bone in his hand and smiled. Boo played a game where he would bury the chew bone in the yard somewhere close to the house. Asa would find it and return it to the toy bin and Boo would promptly bury it again. He brushed a piece of dirt off the bone and tossed it on the top of the toy pile.

He wandered back into the kitchen, trying to remember why he went there in the first place. He realized he was hungry, not haven eaten anything since noon. He opened the refrigerator door and found a cardboard box that was left over from lunch. He opened it and found two pieces of sausage and mushroom pizza. He acted as if he had found buried treasure, and then rummaged through the produce drawer to find the Diet Coke that he left there a week ago. Armed with the cold pizza and soda, he plopped himself in front of the TV and re-watched one of the episodes from the first season of Breaking Bad.

As he happily munched on the pizza, he felt a twinge of sadness when he saw Walt desperately clinging to his family and thought about being alone himself He thought about how he already missed Boo lying next to him and then realized he had promised to call the woman over an hour ago. He fumbled in his pocket for his phone and found the text with Julia Morgan's contact information. He clicked on her number.

"Hello?"

Asa paused for just a moment. "Julia, hi, I'm Asa ..." The line went dead. Asa looked at his phone. Four bars. She hung up on him. Fuck that, Asa thought. Guess that lady's going to have to figure it out herself. He started the next episode and attacked the second slice of pizza. He was halfway through the episode when his phone chimed, telling him it was a caller that wasn't on his "favorites" list. He decided to ignore it and finished the pizza and the episode. He picked up the empty cardboard box (Asa was ashamed to admit it, but he scraped the melted cheese off the cardboard and ate that too) and empty soda can and tossed them into his recycling bin. He went back to retrieve his phone and noticed he had a missed call from the same number he just called. He called her back again. This time she answered on the first ring.

"Hello?" she said, somewhat breathlessly.

"As I was saying a while ago, my name is Asa ..."

The woman started talking over him so he stopped. " ... sorry that I hung up on you. I've been getting so many solicitors so when you didn't talk right away I figured you were in some call center in Asia but then I checked the message that Dr. Phegley sent me and the number he sent me was yours. He said you would be calling. I'm so sorry. I'm just a bit flustered right now. I've never owned a dog and my son Jason got called up by the Marines. He's going to some base in the Middle East and I'm so worried. Then he left me with Pitch, and ... oh God. I'm so sorry. I've been babbling ..."

Asa laughed out loud. He was amused, not annoyed. "Jamison asked me to call you. I've had a few puppies in my time so maybe I can help you out."

"Jamison?" There was a pause for a moment. "Oh, you mean Dr. Phegley. So that's his first name. I really appreciate you calling me. So as I was saying, I've got this dog ..."

"Pitch."

"Pitch. Right. He's about ten weeks old. My son adopted him from a local rescue organization. My son has always wanted a dog and I never wanted one, so he adopted Pitch."

"How'd you name him?" Asa had an idea but wanted to hear her son's reason.

"I asked Jason what color he was and he said 'Pitch black.'" We both thought Pitch was a fitting name.

"And what kind of dog is it?"

"Jason said it was a border collie. I think he said he's going to be about 35 pounds."

"Jamison told me he was a black lab."

"So are border collies and black labs the same?"

Asa couldn't suppress his laugh.

"So they're not the same?"

"No ma'am. Border collies are about 35 pounds full grown. They're fast and they're smart. They're working dogs. Herding sheep. Now black labs, they're hunting dogs. They are almost impervious to pain. They'll run through icy cold water to retrieve a bird."

"How big do they get?"

"Well, in my experience, a small male is about sixty pounds."

"A small one?" Fearing the answer, she asked anyway. "What about a large one?"

"I've had some around a hundred pounds."

"Oh my, I think Pitch is about 15 pounds and I can't handle him already. He's wiggly and bitey. I think I have bite marks on my forearms and ankles. He's hasn't broken the skin, but his teeth are like the points of nails!"

"That's what puppies do. So how are you housebreaking Pitch?"

"Well, I have newspapers all over my house. There's pee and poop everywhere! Is that what you mean?"

Asa laughed. "I'm sorry I'm laughing. You can't possibly keep up with a puppy inside. The key is to get him outside. I usually take my puppies outside every two hours, whether they need to or not, just to acclimate them to being outside. If it pees or poops I have dog treats ready to reward him. And if you're inside, and you see the puppy squat or lift its leg, take him outside immediately. Preferably to the same area, so the puppy knows where to go outside."

The phone was silent for a moment. "You wouldn't happen to be in the market for a puppy, would you? I think Jason's on a long-term deployment and I could ask him."

Asa shrugged his shoulders, even though Julia couldn't see him. It was way too soon. "I'm sorry, I just lost my dog this morning and ..."

"Oh ... I'm so sorry." Julia understood his loss and realized he wasn't in the market for a puppy. "I understand. Maybe you could give me a few pointers? I'd be happy to bring Pitch over anytime that's convenient for you and to pay you."

"Pay me? No. I'm happy to do it. I'm busy tomorrow, but maybe Wednesday? Say around noon? You can text your address to this number."

The relief was evident in her voice. "That would be so great. I'll look forward to it."

"In the meantime, make sure you take Pitch outside, you know, often, till he gets the idea. Most dogs will get it after a few weeks and will ask to go outside."

"I'll do that. See you Wednesday."

Asa went back to his study and slouched in his favorite chair. He took a sip of his bourbon and smiled to himself and wondered what he had gotten himself into.

* * *

Tuesday was another bright summer day. Asa woke at his usual 6 a.m. He usually slept with his window open, and the harsh morning sunlight that streamed through the window was his alarm clock. He looked to the left of his bed, where Boo usually slept, and the spot was empty, the first day in the last fourteen without the gregarious lab washing Asa's face with his tongue when Asa was still lying in bed.

He looked out his bedroom window, seeing the pile of freshly turned earth next to Miss Naughty's statue. He resolved to remedy that situation, and threw on his bathrobe and ambled over to the kitchen, putting on a pot of fresh joe, and turning on the computer in his study. He starting surfing the web for an appropriate dog statue when he heard his coffee maker chirp. He grabbed his oversized mug and filled it, taking a whiff of the rich aroma of the coffee. He settled back at his desk, scanning a number of websites until he found a statue of a Labrador that was about six inches taller than Miss Naughty's. He entered in his payment information and smiled and pushed away from his desk as the order was completed. At least Boo would be looking down on his nemesis.

By the time he had scanned the headlines on his phone and drank his second cup of coffee it was already 9 a.m. Emmaline was going to pick him up at 11, so he decided to finish his chores, take an early shower and then rummage through his closet for something nice to wear, which for Asa meant a clean pair of jeans and his nicer pair of boots. He went outside to tend to his garden, watering his tomato and zucchini plants, and then skimming off freshly fallen leaves off the surface of his above ground backyard pool. He hopped into the shower, now a bit dirty (and sweaty) and luxuriated in the hot spray.

Emmaline. Emmaline was a recently divorced thirty something hottie who was a member of Francis's informal gardening club. Asa remembered the red polka dot dress she wore at last year's Christmas party. Francis thought she looked like a slut. Asa was transfixed by her cleavage, and earned a reprimand of a squeeze of his arm when his gaze lasted longer than it should have. Asa suspected that Emmaline had her eye on him, even when Francis was alive, and now two years after her passing, and the finalization of her divorce, she was clearly on the prowl.

Asa's cock stirred as he thought about Emmaline's flaming red hair and her body, the flaring hips, generous booty and large, rounded breasts that seemed to always be threatening to escape the confines of her dress. He hadn't been with a woman since Francis passed away. He was happy to see that another woman could stir his soul, and lathered his broad shoulders and muscular arms before venturing lower. As he was soaping up his pubic area, he felt an urge to masturbate in the shower, something he hadn't done since he was a teenager. He thought better of it, saving himself for whatever might transpire later with Emmaline.

Refreshed, he found a freshly ironed shirt and donned his favorite jeans and boots and sat on the back porch, awaiting Emmaline's arrival. The sun was almost straight overhead and the morning chill was replaced by a warm summer breeze. Somehow his thoughts turned back to Boo. He felt a deep ache as he remembered the lab's thick, pointy tail, always in motion, his smiling face, and ever present voracious appetite. He was deep in his thoughts when he spotted Emmaline's car in the distance, pulling into his driveway.

He remembered that Emmaline's husband was wealthy (Francis told him all the particulars on how he accumulated it, but of course it was forgotten almost the moment she uttered it), and wondered what she would be driving. Moments later his question was answered when she pulled up in a shiny jet black Porsche Panamera. Asa wasn't a big car buff (he drove an old Ford 150) but admired the sleek lines of the four door sports car. Emmaline alighted from the vehicle, wearing oversized sunglasses and a summer dress that could have been sprayed on. She was holding a floppy hat that she put on at a rakish angle, and walked gingerly on the gravel driveway in her Jimmy Choo wedge sandals. She climbed up the four stairs to the porch, her face radiant, and hugged a now standing Asa.

"Asa, so good to see you," she gushed, flattening her ample breasts against his chest. She held him at arm's length and added, "And looking fit too."

Asa did look good for his forty-two years. His farm kept him active and he never had a problem controlling his weight. She loved his short brown wavy hair, slightly greying at the temples, with a shock of unruly hair falling across his forehead. He was six foot tall and whatever wasn't bone was muscle and sinew. Asa and Francis made a fetching couple, and a sudden sadness overcame Emmaline as she thought about the difficult two years after Francis's diagnosis of inoperable cancer in her spinal cord. Emmaline, for all her sass, pitched in with the rest of the community to support Francis until she was gone. It was during that time period that Emmaline got to see Asa's humanity stripped bare as he mourned for and grieved over his wife. She knew him to be a kind and compassionate person. And now she wanted him.

"You OK?" Asa said, as he studied Emmaline's furrowed face. She suddenly perked up.

"I'm fine. Sorry ... sorry ... for some reason I started thinking about Francis."

Asa gave her another hug, this one tender. "I know the feeling ... all too well. It appears like a big black cloud and then rains on everything. It's been two years now ... two rotten years ... that I lost her. I really appreciate you taking the time to cheer me up."