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“I can’t take care of a puppy right now. I can barely take care of myself.”
“You’re wallowing in self-pity because Kyle left. A puppy will cheer you up. Studies prove that people with dogs are hap—”
“No.” Even as I said it, I pictured Cole, his shiny black hair, wagging tail, and unconditional love. I saw him waiting by the window for me to get home from work and racing to the door as I made my way up the walkway. I could hear his excited bark and feel his paws on my thighs as he jumped up to greet me.
“Just for a few days? Until I figure out something else,” Dana pleaded.
I was so lonely here without Kyle. The dog would be company.
“Kyle loves dogs,” Dana said. “If you tell him Deeogee’s staying with you, he’ll come over to meet him.”
My lip curled, and I stopped petting the puppy. “Really. You’re suggesting I use your dog to trick Kyle into coming home.”
“No worse than lying about getting a bonus.”
I flinched, regretting that I had confided in her. She had a point, though. Kyle loved dogs, and dogs loved him. When possible, he used to take Cole on jobs with him. Throughout the day, he’d send funny texts with pictures of the two of them. Dana’s dog nudged my arm with his nose, almost as if he were telling me that he could help me turnthings around with Kyle. I studied the puppy’s face, noticing patches of fur on each side of his mouth were lighter than the rest of his face. The lighter fur made him look like an older dog, and I wondered if he was wise beyond his years.
“He can stay, but there’s no way I’m calling him Deeogee.” I studied the little guy. “You like Oliver better, don’t ya?”
Apparently Dana had come over knowing the puppy could stay, because her car was packed with all his belongings. She dumped it all in a pile in my living room: dog bowls, puppy chow, squeaky toys, biscuits, two leashes, a crate, a dog bed, and a blanket. Oliver came with more stuff than Kyle had left with.
After my sister drove away, I took Oliver outside. My heavy winter coat and hat didn’t protect me from the early-March frigid air. I shivered as we walked, but Oliver seemed unbothered by the cold. He chased after the beam of light coming from my flashlight, yapping and pulling on the leash with a strength I didn’t expect. A few yards down the road, he paused, sniffing at something in the enormous snowbank. The snow had been piled there since late November. Anything could be buried under it.
The wind howled, blowing icy air through me. I pulled my hood over my head and tugged lightly on the leash to get Oliver moving again. Behind us, tires crunched over snow, and seconds later the Abramses drove past us. When Oliver and I neared their house, Mr.and Mrs.Abrams were climbing out of their car. Mrs.Abrams called out to me, so Oliver and I turned in to her driveway.
“Who is this little guy?” Mrs.Abrams asked, bending to pick up Oliver.
“My sister’s dog. He’s staying with me for a few days.”
“Oh, you’re not going to want to give him back.” Mrs.Abrams snuggled with the puppy. Oliver bathed the old woman’s cheek withhis tongue. Mrs.Abrams’s hearty laugh echoed through the quiet neighborhood.
“Oh, Miriam, don’t let him lick you like that,” Mr.Abrams said, his face flushed from the cold, his teeth chattering.
Mrs.Abrams extended the puppy toward her husband, but he took a step backward. She laughed and pulled Oliver back to her chest.
“Where’s Kyle been?” Mr.Abrams asked. “I haven’t seen him lately.”
I started to sweat under my heavy coat. “Oh, you know,” I said. “It’s hockey season.”
The way he looked at me made me think he suspected my husband was buried under the enormous pile of snow at the end of the road.
I snatched Oliver back from Mrs.Abrams and turned to leave before he could ask any more questions. “Good night,” I yelled with my back to them both as I crossed the street.
Chapter 21
Sunday night, I set up Oliver’s crate on the floor next to my bed. That sweet puppy didn’t even whine when I placed him in it. For a few moments, he stood on his hind legs with his front paws resting on the crate’s wall. Exhaustion overtook him, and he collapsed on his blanket and fell into a deep sleep. He woke up whimpering just after midnight. I took him outside and led him down the path I had shoveled earlier in the day from the back door to the side of the house. The frigid air hurt my lungs every time I took a breath. When we reached the bush at the end of the cleared snow, Oliver sniffed around before crouching to do his business. I jumped up and down on the balls of my feet, trying to keep warm. It didn’t work. My face stung every time the icy wind hit it. After Oliver finished, he gnawed on a branch sticking up through the snow. I pulled on his leash to bring him back inside, but he resisted, so I picked him up and carried him like a baby back to his crate. Behind the metal bars, he stood on his back two legs, watching me as I tried to fall asleep. Every now and then, the crate rattled as he shifted positions, but again he didn’t cry.
I took him out two other times during the night, each time cursing my sister. In the morning, my mind felt foggy from being sleep deprived. I tried to figure out something I could do with Oliver for the eight hours I was at the magazine. I definitely didn’t want to leave him locked up in his crate all day as if he were in prison. In the end, I couldn’t think of anything, so I called in sick and stayed home with him.
Oliver was a good companion. He helped me keep my mind off Kyle. We played tug-of-war and fetch. Every few hours, we braved the cold so he could relieve himself. He made a few messes in the house, but they were confined to the mat by the back door. Clearly Marie had spent time training him before handing him over to Dana.
While Oliver napped at my feet, I called doggy day care places, but no one was willing to take on a puppy who hadn’t been potty trained. Late in the day as I walked Oliver down the street, Mrs.Abrams joined us. When she found out that I had skipped work to take care of him, she volunteered to watch him during the day. “That’s too much to ask of you,” I said.
“You didn’t ask. I offered. He’ll be better company than Cranky Pants.” I stared at her blankly, and she clarified, “Joel.”
Tuesday morning, I walked Oliver across the street with his squeaky toys, puppy chow, and dog bowls. It had snowed overnight, just an inch or so, but it was enough to make the walkways and roads slippery. Mr.Abrams was outside, hunched over as he spread ice melt on the driveway, which was something Kyle would have done for him if he had been home. The old man straightened and watched me approach. I braced myself for a question about my husband’s whereabouts. He pointed to Oliver. “This isn’t a good idea.”
“You want me to take him home?” As I waited for him to answer, I tried to think of something else I could do with Oliver. I knew Dana was working all day, and Aunt Izzie had made it clear she wanted no part of the dog. My only option was to leave him in a crate, and I really didn’t want to do that.
