EXCERPT 3 FROM HOUNDED: A LOVE STORY
Trekking down to the beach, over dunes, past windswept scrub and yellow poppies, Felix warns his canine companion, “Taking you here is against my better judgment. You have to be good.”
“When was I ever bad?” says Darth.
“You were born bad.”
Darth chafes at his leash, “Do we really need this thing?” Felix surveys the beach - it is almost empty. “I guess we can lose it, but stay close.” Felix bends over, eyes peeled for unsavory types, and unfastens the leash. He can’t repress a grin as the liberated Darth, energized by the nearness and newness of the ocean, puts on a dazzling display of athletic prowess, racing around in wide circles, leaping over piles of driftwood, dancing in and out of the surf. Shot through with a thrill he hasn’t felt since witnessing Michael Jordan score sixty-four against the Magic, Felix bops up and down, shrieking like a banshee cheerleader.
When Darth drags himself back to Felix, he gets up on his hind legs, and presses himself into Felix, who vigorously rubs Darth’s head. ? “What an athlete! Who’s my little Olympian?” Felix takes off his backpack and spreads a towel on the sand, “I could watch you all day.”
Breathing hard, Darth flips over on his back, fully exposing his dog-hood. “You know, anyone could see you like that,” Felix chides.
“Who cares.”
“Maybe you should.”
“You care too much.”
Felix picks up his partially deflated football, and commands Darth, “Go long!” Felix hauls back and hurls the football. It sails way over Darth’s head. Darth chases after it, then past it, and he keeps galloping, in the direction of the beachside homes and cafes.
“Goddammit, Darth!” Felix sprints after him,
Sweat-soaked and sand-encrusted, Felix arrives at Darth’s most logical destination, a brightly painted, food truck, where he is confronted with the spectacle of his dog humping the leg of the food truck’s owner, a perky Asian woman in her late twenties, sporting L.A. Lakers-colored b-ball shoes, and a tee-shirt emblazoned with the words, “YUM TRUCK.” Felix lunges at Darth, who is still humping, “Get down! Now!” Darth dismounts and dances away. Felix spots pots and pans, and an avalanche of paper napkins scattered in front of the truck, and asks the woman, “Did he do that?”
She brushes it off. “No harm, no foul.” Felix kneels down to join her cleanup effort. She says, “It’s okay, you don’t have to.”
But he stays and cleans alongside her. “I’m sorry about this. It’s overexcitement, he’s hardly ever around women.”
“Good thing he doesn’t live in a sorority.”
“That’s funny,” says Felix.
“Oh, you’re one of those guys who says ‘That’s funny’ but doesn’t actually laugh?”
“Yeah, there’s a whole gang of us,” says Felix. ”We have a clubhouse and a secret handshake.”