“Um, OK.”
“Also, very importantly, you pick me up, and you stand by me no matter what,” she said, still going. “I’ve always loved that about you. It’s one of many, many things that I love about you. Just like there are many, many, many things you love about me.”
Arthur exhaled, the tension of a pending argument finally leaving his body. When he breathed in again, something struck him. He sat up.
“Why does it smell weird in here?”
And that’s when he felt a long, rough tongue licking his ear.
10
Wren:Rescue a Dog from Certain Death
Arthur had been fiddling withhis laptop in the living room when Wren began to imagine their lives as they hurtled toward suburban monotony. It might not be right now, it might not be anytime soon, but they would eventually end up there. It was what humans did. Their migratory patterns were so predictable, like herds of wildebeests following green grass and fresh water. So, too, did humans have babies and gravitate toward the parks and the Blue Ribbon Schools and the family-friendly breweries.
She really had to stop watching so many nature documentaries. A side effect of her recent unemployment.
But this was exactly why the bucket list was so important, so urgent. And, at least so far, it had not been overly satisfying.
Her jar was right there on the nightstand, practically glowing under the warmth of her reading lamp. What could it hurt to pull something new out? She and Arthur were supposed to do this together, but he was right, the things in this jar were her dreams. Not everything she did had to be tied to him, all the time.
She snatched it and stuck two fingers inside, like pincers, immediately grabbing hold of one of the smooth slips of paper. She hadn’t intended to actually pull it out, honest. It just happened.
And when it did, well, she figured she had to do it. Those were the rules.
“I really, really don’t see how I, quote, ‘made you do this,’ ” Arthur said, picking bits of wiry fur off his slacks.
In all her years knowing Arthur, Wren knew that he was not the type to explode outwardly in anger. No, he would just get quiet and set his jaw, then eventually get over it. He was annoyingly healthy that way.
So she didn’t see a huge problem with playfully antagonizing him.
“Well, you said I couldn’t do any death-defying adventure sports, so what did you expect?”
In truth, she just wanted to make him laugh, and maybe if she could get him laughing he would see how awesome having a new dog was going to be.
“Wren, having a dog is a huge, huge—”
“Yes, yes, a huge responsibility. You don’t think I know that? I’ve done all the research.”
“Have you?”
“I’ve done some research. And this is something I’ve wanted for a long time.”
She revealed the proof: her years-old handwriting on the slip that she’d pulled from the jar earlier. When she had first read “Rescue a Dog from Certain Death,” it seemed impossible and wildly irresponsible. But it turned out that all it tookwas about five minutes of screwing around on Facebook Marketplace. Social media was, in many ways, a gigantic mistake by humanity. But it could certainly come in handy when you wanted to make a rash and impulsive decision. All sorts of magnitudes of mistakes were suddenly right at your fingertips.
She reached down and scooped him up, all eleven pounds of him: Ferdinand. He was the ugliest dog listed online by a mile, with crooked eyes and a tongue that permanently lolled out the side of his mouth. In her mind, the plan had been to adopt a puppy from an overcrowded mill, maybe spring the entire litter free and burn the place to the ground while she was at it. The plan had not been to save a weathered old sack of farts like Ferdinand. But the listing said that the foster parent had completely run out of options and was going to have to surrender him soon. No one else was ever going to adopt this ugly motherfucker, so he was bound to end up dead. The person was so desperate they were willing to come drop him off on short notice with almost no questions asked, which is why she’d sent Arthur on a wild-goose chase for food. Although, now that said food was here, she was thoroughly enjoying it.
“A long time? I’ve never heard you mention wanting a dog, not once.”
“Well, it goes back farther than you. It was my dream as a kid, something I’ve always wanted to do. Wasn’t that the point of all this?”
Bam. She had stunned him. Arthur had no response.
It was true, though, all of it. Without her parents, Wren had bounced around with different family members for years. She was lucky to have a network of aunts and uncles to take her and her brothers in, in various combinations at differenttimes, but no one seemed to be up for the added burden of letting her adopt a dog, no matter how much she begged. Apparently having your brother and sister-in-law die unexpectedly and then being asked to care for their children was stressful, or something.
She could already see Arthur warming, ever so slightly, to the idea. Or maybe he was trying to fend off the beginnings of a sneeze. She hadn’t bothered to ask, but she highly doubted the pup was hypoallergenic. Arthur looked the two of them over as Wren scratched an itchy spot behind Ferdinand’s ears.
“He’s pretty ugly. Did you pay money for him?”
