"Just what in the world did you do in college?" Chuck Willard asked.

Martin Sullivan gave a wry grin. "I was a grade grubber. I really didn’t have much time for dates. All I could think of was the degree. Graduate school was even worse. I had a reputation for being a brilliant student. Actually, I had to work my tail off, and I didn’t have time for anything else."

Chuck was a senior engineer in the Engineering Department and had been an enormous help to Martin during the six months he’d been working for the city. They had soon become friends, and Chuck had him out to the Willard home several times. It was probably those visits, which did more than anything else to convince Martin he was missing out on an important part of life.

Chuck and Louise had a comfortable home, two bright young children, and an obviously happy relationship. That was what Martin had decided he wanted once he had settled down securely in what promised to be a satisfying job.

"Why not a singles club?" Chuck asked.

"I’ve tried that. But everyone seems too eager. I don’t know. The atmosphere is just unpleasant."

"What about all those matchmaking clubs on the Internet?"

"I’ve tried those too, but after hearing about all the scams going on and being bombarded with porno ads, I thought better of it. What I really want to do is to meet someone special in an ordinary way. In a cafeteria line, for example. I’d even try a church group if I thought it would work, but I’m afraid I’m not very religious, and there’s no point in starting off with someone who has different values."

Chuck laughed. "What about at work?"

"Aw, c’mon. There are three women in the office. You know that, and all three are happily married, or at least happily living with someone."

"I tell you what. Just walk down the street and through the park with a dog on a leash. That’s always an opening gambit. You’ll be amazed at how many people will stop and talk to you or want to pet the dog. A certain percentage of them will be women."

"I don’t like dogs. Actually I’m kind of afraid of them. I was bitten when I was six, and I keep remembering that whenever I’m around a dog."

"Even around Sam?"

Sam was the Willard family’s dog, a golden retriever. Less a dog than an occasionally perambulating piece of furniture, Sam’s idea of high excitement was to look for a place to lie down. Since one spot seemed about as satisfactory as another, he managed to simply occupy space. 

Maulings by the two grade-schoolers were treated not with resignation but merely with indifference. It was difficult to envision Sam showing much interest in anything besides rest and food, with the former engaging the major portion of his time and energy.

"Yeah. I don’t mind Sam. Actually, I don’t really notice him except when I trip over him."

"No problem, then. Try him out on Saturday. I’m taking the family to the beach, so you can have him all day. The exercise will do him good, and you can just leave him in the yard if you’re through with him before we get back."

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Martin couldn’t remember ever holding onto a dog leash before. The experience turned out to be rather enjoyable since Sam was as tractable as a pull toy. An occasional rare stop to sniff a post, a lifted leg at one or two fire hydrants, and only the most cursory inspection of the few other dogs being paraded through the park that morning were the sole interruptions to what Martin now began to feel was a pleasant, if so far unproductive, stroll.

A homeless man started to shuffle by, caught sight of Sam, commented, "You got a nice dog there," and then wandered off.

Two young children, over the protests of their mother, swooped down on Sam who treated them with the same unconcern he showed his own family. They soon tired of him and moved on.

One likely prospect came by, glanced at Sam, made brief eye contact with Martin, then sped by. Martin convinced himself that she was in a hurry to get someplace, was very likely married, and probably preferred cats to dogs.

After one leisurely circuit of the park, Martin sat down on a bench along the footpath, having decided to give his companion a break from his strenuous efforts. Sam settled down on the ground almost immediately, and Martin dropped the leash—which had probably only been needed to keep Sam from lying down anywhere and everywhere.

The morning was cool and pleasant. A delightful spring day. Martin must have been daydreaming, because the low growl made only the barest impression on him. When he did become fully aware of it, he still couldn’t quite believe that the sound was coming from Sam. Looking in the direction in which Sam was glaring, he immediately saw a slim, attractive blonde woman approaching along the path. It was only then that he realized she too had a dog in tow. Only this dog was no Sam.

Some mixed breed, of which Doberman was a major ingredient, the creature clearly resembled the dog that had torn flesh from the leg of the six-year old Martin. He felt certain the animal’s bared teeth and manic look were as much directed at him as at Sam. Sam, immediately taking up the challenge, jumped up and launched himself at the other dog who tore loose and met him half way.

The dog’s mistress screamed. Martin tried unsuccessfully at first to grab Sam’s leash, all the time frantically yelling, "Sam! Stop it, Sam! Stop it!" The other dog walker joined in with ineffective tugs at the leash she’d managed to retrieve and her own futile commands: "Down, Cookie! Down!"

The Matchmaker -2 >>>(Continue)