“Great. There’ll be a discount given the situation. Now how do you feel about giving him a home?”
“I’ve never looked after a dog before.” I frown. “My grandmother was allergic. We had goldfish when I was growing up.”
“You’re doing well with him so far. It could be temporary. He might have escaped, and the owners could contact us wanting him back.”
“But in the meantime, he needs a home.”
“Yes,” she says hopefully. “The local no-kill shelter is full, unfortunately.”
Of course, he’s now gazing adoringly at me with his big bright eyes. I highly doubt there’s a single coherent thought happening inside his little head. Just vibes. And doubtless he looks this way at anyone with a proven history of bribing him with cheese. But it still stirs my cold dead heart. Not to get all woe is me, but I know what it’s like to be abandoned.
“When else am I going to get the chance to be a single stay-at-home dog mom?”
“Who knew dogs needed so much stuff?”
Grace cocks her head later that afternoon. “I am not convinced they do.”
We’re sitting on the sofa watching the canine in question. He’s blissfully asleep on his new navy tweed memory foam bed. He’s wearing his matching navy leather and silver-studded collar. The stuffed toy duck he’s curled up with doesn’t match anything but does look cute as fuck. Which is why I’ve taken about a hundred photos of him. In other news, my renewed interest in shopping and photography are going great. Might be a good idea to start calming down on the spending, however.
“You can’t just expect him to lie on the floor like an animal,” I say. “And the dog boutique was having a sale.”
“They don’t call it a pet store?”
“Apparently not. There were sweaters and costumes for Halloween and everything.”
Grace is more amused than impressed. “You’re going to turn into one of those people who have a social media account for their pet, aren’t you?”
“He might not even be staying. This is all temporary. I’m not even sure I want a dog.”
“That why did you buy up half the store?”
“No comment.”
She snorts.
An array of old photo albums are on the coffee table. It seemed like a good idea to divert her from further discussions about death and DNA and to help us reconnect. Grandma often carried around a camera. She’d take shots of things she wanted to sketch or paint. So there’s plenty of scenery from the local area. But also, a lot of my cousin and me from our summers together. Pictures of us swimming and bowling and hanging out at the mall. Doing all of those normal everyday things. Guess my interest in photography comes from Grandma.
“What are you going to name him?” asks Grace. “You have to call him something.”
“I don’t know.”
The dog opens an eyelid to check that I’m still sitting where he left me. He wags his tail exactly once, before going back to sleep.
“How about Fluffy?” asks Grace.
“No.”
“Smelly? Stinky?”
“That was an unfortunate situation that has since been remedied,” I say. “Which reminds me…I need to buy more shampoo.”
“I gave the bathroom a wipe-over while you were out.”
“You did?” I pause in surprise. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. But you can deal with the wet towels.” Her smile is one-sided. “Saw the gym setup in the garage. The boxing bag and so on. Do you use it a lot?”
“Yeah.” I hold up my hand and show her my knuckles. “I have calluses and everything. It’s honestly been kind of therapeutic for me. A way to safely deal with any anger or general negative emotions.”
