In Dog We Trust (Golden Retriever Mysteries) by Neil S. Plakcy

sitting on the front floor, resting his head on the seat. As I drove I reached over and petted him, and tried to keep the drool from staining my cloth upholstery.
    I’d just put him on the leash in the faculty parking lot when I saw Jackie Devere. “Is this the dog?” she asked, leaning down to pet him. Rochester sat on his haunches and submitted to having his neck rubbed.
    “Yeah, I thought I’d bring him to class with me today.”
    “You can’t do that, Steve. Haven’t you noticed the signs?”
    She pointed to one a few feet away from us, at the entrance to the lot. “No animals permitted on the Eastern campus,” it read.
    I’d never noticed it, because it had never mattered before. “What am I going to do?” I asked. “I have to teach in ten minutes.”
    “I’ll take him up to my office,” she said. “You can pick him up when your class is over.”
    “Thanks.” We walked together to Blair Hall, Rochester stopping to sniff and pee. “I never thought about it,” I said. “I told you that girl brought her dog to freshman comp.”
    “There’s a difference between a little dog you can stick in a purse and a big moose,” she said. “I’d never bring Samson here.”
    All the way to Blair Hall, I kept looking around for college security, expecting them to come roaring up in a little golf cart and insist that Rochester leave the campus. We made it without incident, though when I handed his leash to Jackie he gave me a look that spoke volumes about abandonment.
    I hurried through my presentation on resumes and cover letters and galloped up the stairs to Jackie’s office on the third floor. I needn’t have worried; Rochester was sprawled between piles of books.
    “As long as you’re up here, you should take him to the dog park,” Jackie said.
    “Where’s that?”
    “Down by the river at the foot of the hill. Just below Birthday House.”
    “You want to do that, Rochester?” I asked. “You want to go to the dog park?”
    He tried to do one of his crazy kangaroo jumps, which was just about impossible in Jackie’s crowded office. He knocked over a pile of papers, and when I picked it up I saw one by Menno Zook on the top. “You have Menno, too?” I asked.
    “Last term,” she said. She reached down to rub Rochester’s neck as I hooked his leash. I should have gone right home and worked on my business plan, but I felt like playing a little hooky. If my students could throw together their papers at the last minute, I could delay my business plan for a few more days.
    Rather than walk through campus to Birthday Hall, I scrambled Rochester back into the Beemer and drove down to the river.
    Tasheba Lewis was lounging just inside the dog park fence watching Romeo sniff the butt of a Doberman Pinscher, who seemed to be enjoying the experience. “Hi, Mr. Levitan,” she said as we walked in.
    Rochester began trying to hump poor little Romeo. I tugged on his leash and pulled him off. “Rochester! Sit!”
    “Oh, I know Rochester,” she said. “I thought he belonged to a lady.”
    “My next-door neighbor,” I said. “Did you know her?”
    Tasheba picked Romeo up on her lap and sat down on an ornately-scrolled wrought-iron bench. Rochester put his head right in her lap to continue sniffing Romeo’s private parts.
    “Just here at the park,” Tasheba said. “She liked to talk about skin care.”
    “Skin care?”
    “I use Clinique but she used Kiehl’s,” she said. “We always compared notes.”
    I wished Tasheba had paid as much attention to her notes for freshman comp. “You can let him off his leash, you know,” she said. “He can’t get away.”
    “But what if he goes crazy on some little dog?” I asked.
    “The little dogs can take care of themselves,” she said, as Romeo growled at Rochester, tired of the inquisition.
    I unhooked Rochester’s leash, and he went bounding away from me, toward a pair of whippets. I sat down next to Tasheba and watched Rochester. If only Caroline