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“What do you want, little scamp?” I coo, bending down to pick him up. He waggles his tail furiously, trying to lick my face again. Again, all my woes momentarily disappear as I giggle and snuggle my head with his.
“I feel like I’ve woken up in a different universe.”
The white-haired lady’s words hit home. I feel that way too, but I’m unsure why she does. “Why’s that?” I question.
She has a large silver whisk in her hand that she points with. “Well, for starters you’re acting all weird. You haven’t once cursed demanding I make you coffee. And two, Max would normally never, ever dream of going near you. You may have wanted that dog, but you ignore him most days. The only time you ever acknowledge him is when he has an accident in the house, but the only reason for that is you never take the poor little thing for a walk. All you do is shout at him. What’s the point in having a dog if you don’t want to look after him?”
Tears well in my eyes at the thought. I would never, ever dream of treating a dog this way.
So, why have I?
“Am I really that bad?” I ask softly, a lone tear dropping down my face. Max whines as if sensing my pain, licking up my tear in the process. I look into those deep brown eyes of his and wonder how anyone could treat a dog so inhumanely. Somehow, I know what Max is saying back.
“It’s okay, I still love you anyway.”
It’s not fair how dogs love to a fault. Their fierce loyalty is wasted on humans like me. I’m truly not worthy of him.
Or maybe, like me, he can sense something’s different. Maybe he knows I’m not who I’m supposed to be. I search his eyes, asking him the question. “Do you know who I really am?” He answers by whining and licking my face.
“Well, you seem different today, that’s for certain.”
I keep Max cradled in my arms, giving him a scratch behind his ears. His paw reaches up, scratching the air and making me giggle. This little scamp is adorable. Full of white fur, of course, but adorable nonetheless. This color white is definitely suited to this dog. His fur is so soft, I find myself burying my head in it, causing it to tickle my nose. Max doesn’t seem to mind at all. In fact, he’s still desperately trying to lick my face.
“I must admit, I feel different. I want to try and be a better person.”
The white-haired lady sighs, placing her hand on her hip. “Well, chucking the pool guy out of your bedroom while screaming like a banshee is definitely a start.”
I don’t know why, but I find what she says highly amusing. I burst out laughing, making her eyes widen in shock. When I keep on laughing, her lips twitch into the most brilliant smile.
“Drink the rest of your coffee before it goes cold,” she says, shooing me with her tablecloth.
My stomach grumbles, reminding me how hungry I am. “Actually, are there any pastries in the fridge?”
She spins on her heels, her expression one of bewilderment. “Pastries?! Wow, you really are changing. Apparently Kendra Banks only has to inhale the scent of a pastry and she puts on ten pounds.”
“I say that?” I ask, because hey… how would I know?
She walks over to the huge stainless steel double-door fridge, pulling one door open and taking out a plate filled with cream cakes, chocolate croissants, and Danish pastries. I lick my lips, eagerly putting out my hand to grab one. My fingers flexing like an impatient child.
I take a croissant and a Danish off the plate, causing the lady to tut under her breath. “Wait until I get a plate. No crumbs on the table.”
I place the Danish in my mouth, chewing a massive portion and grinning at her from ear to ear. She shakes her head, but before she turns to get a plate, I notice the little smirk on her face that I obviously wasn’t meant to see.
Maybe I have someone in the house other than Max who likes me. I glance down at him and he immediately starts licking my face, desperate to get any sugary sweetness that may have escaped my mouth.
A plate is placed in front of me, so I put the croissant down and immediately pick up the Danish. I demolish it in seconds.
“Don’t you have lunch with Alyson today?”
Obviously our lunches are regular if white-haired lady knows about it. I wish I knew her name, so that I can stop calling her “White-haired lady.” But how do I ask without giving away my loss of memory?
“I do.”
She glances down at her watch. “Don’t you think you should ask Craig to get the car ready?”
I glance down at my watch too, noting that it’s well after one already. Where has the time gone?
“Oh, crap!” I shout, jumping off the chair and placing Max down on the floor.
