He won't leave, he just sits down in front of me. I look over at Avi again, who's still eyeing me. Why does he do that?
"Arg!"
"Traitor," I grumble through gritted teeth to the mutt.
"Arg!"
If I tell you what the mutt does next you're not going to believe me. He sticks that butt of his in the air, like he's trying to play with me or something. When I don't take the bait, he grabs my shoe with his teeth and runs away.
Now this isn't just any shoe, it's my one and only pair of Ferragamo jelly sandals.
"Give that back!" I yell. "Do you have any idea how much that cost?"
I try to grab for it, but the white devil-pup starts shaking it back and forth in its mouth like a chew toy.
"Stop it," I say in a loud, warning tone.
But he doesn't. He starts running away with it. I get up, trying not to ruin my still-wet toenails in the process. But it's no use. As I head toward the dog, it trots away in the opposite direction.
Now it's war.
Most of the time I go through life at a relatively slow pace, but that doesn't mean I can't haul ass every once in a while. The only problem is my boobs bob up and down when I run fast. But I try not to think of that. I'm concentrating on saving my Ferragamo sandal.
The mutt stops beside one of the houses and I pretend I'm not going to get it. I sneak behind a lemon tree with the hugest lemons I've ever seen. They're as big as a baby's head.
When I think he might forget I'm behind the tree, I sneak a look at him. His butt is in the air again and his tail is wagging a mile a minute. He's looking straight at me.
And my sandal is still in his mangy, slobbery mouth.
"You should get neutered," I say as I step from behind the tree. Maybe then he'd have some respect for Ferragamo.
"Grrrr."
"What, no 'arg'?" While I'm talking to him, I'm sneaking up to him. "Keep that tail wagging so I can have something to grab at when I catch you, you slimy mutt." Grrrr.
"You don't scare me," I continue, inching closer. I'm almost within reach. Grrrr.
My concentration is solely on the sandal until I step and feel something squishy squeeze in between my toes. I look down and realize I've just stepped on an old, rotten cucumber. But at second glance, I realize it's not a cucumber, it's a DEAD SNAKE. It's black, but shimmers a bright fluorescent green in the sunlight.
I've never been more grossed out as I am now, running toward my uncle and aunt's house. Obscenities, some I even make up, are streaming out of my mouth. I'm trying hard not to think about the snake-guts that must be in the crevices of my toes as I run as fast as my legs can carry me.
"Ho ..." I say to Avi in-between gagging. Please dear God let me get the word out before gagging again. "Ho ..." Gag. "Hose!" I point to my foot just in case he doesn't get it.
The jerk gives a short laugh (at my expense) and I follow him to the back of the house. When I see the hose, I run toward it as fast as my snake-encrusted feet can carry me.
Avi turns the handle and I quickly chance a glance at my gross foot. Little pieces of black, stringy guts are peeking out from in between my toes. My toenails are dry now, with pieces of grass or hay stuck to them permanently.
I'm still gagging, I can't help it. I think if I stop looking at my toes I can get through this. When the water starts spurting out of the hose, I take it from him and aim the water toward my foot. My gaze lands on Avi. "Thanks a lot for helping me get my sandal," I say sarcastically.
"Thanks a lot for helping with the sheeps," he counters.
"It's sheep, not sheeps. Whether you have one sheep or a million of' em, it's still sheep."
He walks forward and pulls the hose out of my hand. I watch wide-eyed as he bends on one knee and lifts my gross foot and places it in his hand. Then, if you can believe it, he washes my foot thoroughly.
I'm about to lose my balance, I really am. And it's not because I want Avi to catch me or anything. I hate playing the damsel in distress every time he's around.
I'm lightheaded because it's ungodly hot outside and I just busted my ass to run after a Ferragamo-stealing mutt. To top it off, this boy who I'm determined to hate has one of my feet in his hands.
"You can stop gagging. Whatever you stepped in is gone."
"It was a snake!"
He shrugs. Like it's no biggie.
"You ever stepped on a snake?" I ask.
"I usually watch where I step."
I yank my foot out of his grasp. "Well, where I live there are no snakes. Dead or otherwise."
He stands, which is not so great because I was feeling superior when he was on his knee. But he's probably six feet tall and when he looks down at me I feel small. Instead of responding, he gently pulls a flower out of my hair. "Cute," he says, twirling the stem between his fingers.
Oy, I forgot Matan filled my hair with white, purple, and yellow wildflowers. I must look like a clown.
"Your father wanted me to tell you everyone's at my house eating what you call lunch. If you want to join them, follow me."
I step beside him as he's walking, but then I stop. "Why didn't he tell me himself?"
Avi shoots me a withering glance. "He also wanted me to apologize for watching you undress the first night you were here."
"Well?"
"Israelis don't apologize for what they're not sorry for."