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Ford carried the dog into his parents’ living room.
“Oh dear.” His mother hurried close, wearing her bathrobe. Dad was in pajamas.
“Well now, hello, little fella,” his father said. “Let’s lay him down and have a good look at him before we decide what treatment he needs.”
His mother put some towels on the table, and Ford lowered the dog onto it. With the light in here, he could see the animal clearly now.
Shaggy gray hair, whiskers, and a longish snout. It had small ears that stood upright. Not big or small—medium-sized.
“It’s so cute,” his mom said, stroking the dog’s muzzle.
The dog whined softly as Ford and his dad looked the animal over. Turned out it was a female, not a male like he’d thought initially.
“It’s no breed I know,” Ford said. “A mix of a few things.”
“I bet some bastard threw her out of a car,” his dad said. “She’s obviously been a pet because she’s friendly.”
“That was my guess too.”
They checked the animal’s hind leg, but other than stiffness, it looked okay. Ford gave her some food and water, which she ate as if it was the first meal she’d had in a long time.
“You going to take her to the stables?” his mother asked.
“I’ll keep her with me tonight, then tomorrow sort something out.”
When his parents remained silent, he looked at them. “What?”
“Nothing,” his mom said.
“That look is definitely something.”
“I think you should keep her. She’ll be company for when you move into your place.”
“I don’t need a dog. You keep her.”
“Well, then she’d be yours too, so how about we keep her,” his father said.
“There’s a letter for you.” His mother left and came back with an envelope.
Ford knew who had written it, and like he did every time he read one, the guilt was thick and heavy on his shoulders. He grunted something, said good night and picked up the dog, then carried her and the letter to his rooms.
“She needs a name!” his mother called.
“You come up with one!”
His room was at the rear of the house away from the others. He had an en suite bathroom, bedroom, and living area with a huge chair and equally huge flat-screen TV. There was a fridge and a coffee machine. His man cave, his mother called it.
He dropped the letter on the table and took the dog into the bathroom because she stank. After stripping off, he turned on the shower and carried her in. She howled with outrage as he washed her. When that was done, Ford washed himself and then climbed out. Once he was dry and in clean sweats, he got her out and dried her off.
“That’s not a good look on you.”
With her hair smashed flat, she looked like she was trying to hide a bald spot, but she did look clean, her hair a lighter gray now. He found a blanket and laid it on the floor, then lowered the dog down.
“That’s where you’re staying.”
The dog eyed him warily.
He went through the nightly ritual of convincing himself he would sleep. He brewed some tea, then lay on the bed and read until his eyes grew heavy and he drifted off to sleep. When he woke, something was snoring softly beside him. At some stage the dog had joined him.
