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twenty-four
Aweek later, Terrence the puppy had definitely made progress. His fur, once patchy with mange, had filled in and his skinny ribs were less visible. His blue-speckled haunches had intensified, which was the marker Dr. Winters, the mobile vet, had used to suggest bluetick hound as part of his lineage. “Bluetick and treeing walker hounds would be my bet,” she’d said. “And something small. He’s not big enough to just be those breeds. I’d say he’s about four months old.”
What Terrence lacked in size, he made up for with an energy level that could only be described asextra. When let out back, he’d streak up and down the fence line, chasing squirrels and eyeing the gaps in the slats for any sign of life. He was doing that now, while Clementine and Lily watched from the window.
“He’s doing suicides again,” Lily said, giggling at the way he streaked, stopped on a dime, then turned and streaked in the other direction. Once the legs started, the voice was soon to follow. Terrence tilted his head back and loosed a string of hound barks that promised to be deep when he was fully grown.
“What a racket. He’s going to need a home with a big yard. And some really patient owners,” Clementine mused.
Lily let the curtain fall. The crestfallen look on her face was unmistakable, but she recovered in a flash. “It’s not his fault. He’s just chasing down the hoodoo there,” she said.
Clementine almost laughed but it didn’t come. It was rare for Lily to make jokes when she was trying to hide her feelings. To her, that would be like putting a bright red arrow over buried treasure.
“Don’t worry—I’ve got prospects.” Lily grabbed her backpack and headed to the front door as her friend Dana pulled up in her dad’s old El Camino and honked the horn. Clementine had asked Dana more than once not to do that, but she didn’t say anything today. This was the last day of school before Christmas break, so Clementine wouldn’t have to hear the horn for a couple of weeks, anyway. “And if nothing else, Pete has expressed interest. He’s not sure Terrence is suitable, but he’s willing to try.”
“All right.” Clementine decided against trying to have a discussion about Terrence right before school. “Have a good day. Tell Dana to drive carefully.”
“Sure.” Lily rolled her eyes. Just then, Terrence jumped against the sliding glass door, his paws going one after the other, like he was trying to dig it open. Lily headed over and let him inside. The dog barreled into her arms, laying his paws over her shoulders for a trick Lily had taught him called “the hug.” He’d learned it in only a couple of sessions. Lily stroked along his back before he slid down and rolled onto his back. “This is why Pete is interested in him.” Lily rubbed Terrence’s belly. “He’s extremely intelligent. Aren’t you, boy? Aren’t you?”
Terrence wiggled from side to side, enjoying his pets.
“That’s right. You’re not trash. No. You’re my good boy.” One more stroke and Terrence was up, on all fours, racing into the kitchen and back again, at lightning speed. “And that’s why Pete is also not interested,” Lily said with a laugh. “Terrence is a wee bit crazy. You’ll feed him, right?”
“Sure. Go. Don’t make her honk the horn again.” Just as Clementine said it, the sound of the El Camino came long and hard from out front.
Lily grinned. “Sorry. Thanks. ’Bye.”
Once she was gone, Clementine looked down at Terrence and sighed. He stared up at her, his brown eyes moony, the little white patch between them like a drop of cream someone spilled on his head. “C’mon, Nugget.” Clementine tilted her head toward the kitchen. “Let’s get you fed.”
She fed them both, a bowl of puppy food for Terrence and a prerun smoothie for herself. She pulled out her latest journal while she sipped it.
I’m watching this dog your daughter brought home. Someone put him in the dumpster at the animal shelter. A week ago he was sick and mangy and smelly. He’s a little spitfire now. Weirdest little puppy you’d ever meet. You put his food in front of him and you’d think he’d inhale it, right? No. He approaches it slowly, like it might bite him. Kind of walks at it sideways, sniffing the air. He’s a hound, so he smells things nobody else can smell. He’ll walk all around the bowl, sniffing. Eventually, he’ll try a piece. Then he eats the food one little nugget at a time. It can take him half an hour to finish off half a cup of food. It’s maddening. If I get impatient, Lily tells me to chill. Says he can’t be rushed or he’ll “form a bad relationship with food.” I just don’t know about that daughter of yours sometimes. She really loves this dog, though. He sleeps in her bed, even though she thinks I don’t know it. The crate is in her room and she thinks that I think that Terrence goes in there every night, but I’ve seen him in her bed in the mornings. He looks a LOT like Digger. A lot. You’d really like him.
Clementine paused her writing to watch Terrence select one of the last three pieces of food in his bowl. Once he’d chosen which pebble was next, he sat back and crunched it up. Then he went in for another, poking around both remaining pieces until he’d decided the final order. Clementine huffed a laugh and went to find her running shoes. Once she’d come back to the kitchen, Terrence had finished and was now licking his bowl clean.
The sound of the front door opening made Clementine’s hands freeze on the shoelace she was tying. She didn’t even have time to jump up and see what was going on before Lily appeared in the kitchen. Her backpack was missing and her face was tight, anxious, but determined.
“What’s wrong?” Clementine glanced out the window and saw that Dana was out there, idling by the curb, the exhaust coming from the tailpipe indicating the engine was running. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” Lily kept her arms at her sides, hands fisted. “But I wanted to tell you now, before it eats me up all day.” She touched her chest. “I love Terrence and I want to keep him.” He rushed to her side, done licking his bowl, and jumped against her thighs. “Down, boy.” Lily waited until he settled, then squatted down to stroke his ears.
“Lil, this isn’t the time. You’ll be late for school.” Clementine peered outside again and could see Dana slouched in the driver’s seat, sipping on a Big Gulp, looking bored behind her expensive sunglasses.
“I don’t care. There’ll never be a good time for you. You’ll keep thinking up excuses to put it off until I find a home for him, but I’m not going to do that this time.”
Clementine sighed. “We’ve been over this. If we keep one of the dogs, it’ll make it harder to foster the others.”
“That’s just your excuse.” Lily shrugged, her fingertips lightly tracing the cream spot on Terrence’s head. “You don’t want me to keep a dog because Dad loved dogs and Digger died right after Dad did. You think replacing Digger will replace Dad. Or something like that. And that’s the real reason you don’t want me to keep him.”
Clementine’s throat felt like it sealed over, making it hard to draw air. “That’s not true.”
“It is true. It’s the same reason you keep writing to him in those journals, instead of getting back out there, opening yourself up to another chance.” Lily’s voice was calm and direct, held the surety of a therapist. “And I’m not telling you how long to grieve, Mom, or when you should date again, if you ever date again, but I am saying that I want this dog. Somebody put him in the trash and I took him out. Terrence was meant to be mine and I was meant to be his person. Your refusal to move on shouldn’t be my weight to bear.” Lily rose back up, standing stick straight at her full five feet ten inches. It wouldn’t matter if Clementine stood up, too. They’d never be eye to eye.
Clementine glanced at her journal and pushed the cover closed, over the pen that still lay inside. “You’ll be late for school.” The words came out soft, gravelly.
“I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings.” Lily’s voice was sincere, but still firm. “But I had to tell you the truth. If I get detention for being late, I might not be home on time. I’ll text you.”
Then she kissed Terrence on the head and left.
