Page 14 of Must Love Dogs… and Hockey

I know this whole thing is crazy, but for some reason I trust her. I might be a little concerned about Otis while I’m away, but honestly, I’m more worried about how Lilly’s going to cope with him. He’s got a lot of puppy energy and no manners whatsoever.

Lilly

This dog is going to kill me.

He’s only peed on the floor once, thankfully. But when he wants to play, there’s no stopping him. He’s put a hole in my favorite leggings with his teeth, chewed up one of my socks, and snagged a good sweater. I’ve taken him for three walks today and it’s not even dinnertime.

Finally, he’s asleep on the floor in the living room and I collapse onto the couch. Maybe he’ll let me watch a TV show. Or make dinner. Carlin will be home soon. I guess it’s not fair to ask her to watch him while I take a break, since I’m the one who signed up for this.

“I’m stuck with you, Otis,” I murmur.

I felt so bad when I brought him home yesterday, when he started howling because I was taking him away from Easton. He’s definitely attached.

Aw. Damn, he’s cute. Look at him sleeping, all sweet and relaxed and quiet, his nose between his paws, his scrunchy face all adorable. I sigh.

As I watch him, he stretches, paws around to find his stuffy and pull it closer, then rolls onto his side.

Oh my God, that is the cutest thing ever.

The stuffy is a little Frenchie dog that looks just like him. It appears brand new, but he loves it.

My heart!

I turn on the TV and flick through the channels, landing on The Ellen DeGeneres Show. I love Ellen. I settle myself into the couch and watch, hoping that Otis stays sleeping a little longer.

No such luck.

As soon as Carlin turns her key in the lock, Otis leaps up and barks.

“Shhh!” I jump up too. “You don’t want to get us evicted, do you?”

Pets are allowed in our building, but I know Mrs. Fernsby next door won’t hesitate to complain if he’s too loud. She complained about my sneezing last time I had a cold. She complained we left our clothes in the dryer too long. She’s complained about our “overnight guests.” She complained because she thought we were smoking marijuana. We weren’t, though, and I think she was disappointed.

Carlin hasn’t met Otis yet, although I gave her a heads-up that he was coming to stay for a couple of days. She likes dogs, luckily.

Otis is afraid of her, though, and he won’t stop barking at her, all four little paws lifting off the floor with each yap as he backs away from her.

Oh my God, this dog has issues.

Carlin gets down on the floor. “Hey, cutie. Don’t bark, okay? I’m Carlin. I live here.”

Yes, yes, we know he doesn’t understand us, but come on, everyone talks to their dog.

Eventually he calms down, and inches closer to her on his belly. She stretches her hand out palm down so he can sniff her. He seems somewhat reassured.

“Wow, sorry,” I tell her. “He’s a little neurotic. Easton says he’s not very well trained.”

“Easton, the handsome and rich dog owner.”

“Handsome, rich, and cocky-ass dog owner.”

She gives me an amused look. “You said he apologized.”

“Yes,” I grudgingly admit.

“And look how things turned out. He’s paying you big bucks to look after him.”

“True. I have fifteen hundred dollars in my purse. And some of that is for you.”

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