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“What are you doing?” Simon asks, peering over my shoulder, but he steps back when the dog growls softly at him. “Did you hear that? The thing is rabid, Alice. You can’t keep a stray animal.”
“Who said anything about keeping the dog?” I ask in a noncommittal tone as I look up the nearest veterinarian with all the intentions in the world of keeping it.
“So, you aren’t looking up animal hospitals right now?”
“What? No,” I say, covering my phone screen. “Shh. Y-E-S, I am, but you can’t say those words around the dog.
“The dog can’t understand me, Alice,” Simon says, running a hand down his face, like I’m the most frustrating person he’s ever come across.
The dog sits beside my foot, its tail thumping on the sidewalk as I find what I’m looking for.
“Okay, there’s a pet store a few blocks over. We can get the dog a harness and leash, and then to the other place we go.”
Simon looks at me, dumbfounded, and then looks at the dog. He shakes his head and turns, keeping his back to me. I think he wants to growl or something, but thankfully, he keeps it in.
“We can’t leave the poor thing here, Simon. Come on,” I say, cajoling him. “I’ll ask my cousin if she wants the dog, but we’ve got to get him or her checked out. It will be fun,” I say, reaching and grabbing his hand, turning him around. “Our first real adventure, and it even involved a food truck.” I smile at him and watch as the corners of his eyes crinkle as he tries valiantly not to smile back at me.
“I have a feeling I’m in for a lot of adventures with you,” Simon says, and I bite my bottom lip.
“While I’m thinking about animals, Ivy wants a real unicorn at her party,” I tell him, pulling him toward me as I start to walk. I whistle softly for the dog, but it’s trotting faithfully beside me. Best friends already.
“Wh-what?” Simon sputters. “Unicorns aren’t even real. Where would I get one?”
“You have a horse or pony come, and you slap a colorful horn on its head, duh,” I tell him. “Have you never planned anything?”
“I’ve planned surgeries.”
“Right. Well, I think it would make her day if you tracked one down for her.”
“I’ll add it to my list of things to track down,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand as he looks down at me. He still has a grip on my hand as we follow my map to the pet store. “That dog really stinks. I can smell it on your hands,” he says, and I squint up at him.
“You are so romantic,” I tell him, and he chuckles before we fall into companionable silence, our newfound dog walking happily at our sides.
