The fast track to love

When Jenna attends a local dog race with her pup, she's charmed by the town's festivities and its handsome dog-loving sheriff

- Sue Alcon O’Connor

Jenna shaded her blue eyes as a dusty blur of low-slung chaos thundered past the hay bales. “Pickle,” she whispered to the dachshund in her lap, “we're in the land of your people now.”

Pickle whimpered and tried to bite the hot dog costume strapped to his back.

All around them, townspeople cheered at the annual Hot Dog Hustle Wiener Dog Races—some holding signs like, Oscar Mayer for Mayor! And Spectacular Sausage Dogs! In a town as small as Patton, Colorado, the Hot Dog Hustle was, well, the hottest ticket of the summer.

So here she was, trying to blend in and convince Pickle that his outfit was festive, not humiliating.

Then a new blur bolted off the track and beelined for her. “Beans, no!” a man yelled.

But it was too late. The rogue dachshund launched onto Jenna’s lap like a tiny, overcaffeinated torpedo. Pickle barked in his face. Jenna caught her drink mid-topple.

“Beans!” the man gruffly huffed, arriving seconds later. “I am so sorry. He gets overexcited.”

Jenna laughed as she tried to untangle herself. “Those little legs are speedy!”

The man bent down, scooping up the panting escapee. “This is Beans. He's supposed to be in race six, not conducting a surprise meet-and-greet.”

“I'm Jenna,” she said, offering her hand. “And this is Pickle. He’s retired—from everything except naps and treats.”

“I'm Jimmy.”