Page 18 of Must Love Dogs… and Hockey

I look up as I say this and catch the flash of something…tender in Lilly’s eyes. Heat flushes through me. I’m talking to a goddamn dog as if he’s a person.

But then, I talk to dead people, so really this isn’t so crazy.

“How did it go?” I ask.

“Well, let’s just say he has a lot of energy.”

“Yeah, that he does.” I glance over at my stove. “I was just making breakfast. Would you like to join me?” I issue the impulsive invitation without thinking.

After a beat, she says, “No, thanks.”

“Oh, come on, I have lots of food. And coffee, if you drink coffee.”

She bites her lip. “Oh God, I’d love a cup of coffee.”

“There you go.”

I make her a cup in the Keurig while I resume cooking. “How do you take your coffee?”

“Seriously. Very seriously.”

I bark out a surprised laugh. “Same. I approve of a fellow caffeine addict.”

“I definitely am that. And I drink it black.” Lilly takes a seat on a stool at the counter in my kitchen, perching on the edge as if ready to bolt. “I, er, have a favor to ask you.”

I cock my head and flip some hash browns. “Yeah?”

“I was wondering if you would give me a reference.”

“A…reference?”

“For the dog sitting. I’m thinking of trying to get more dog-walking jobs. It would be great to have references. My friend Kent, who owns Lola, says he’ll give me one too, and a couple of other people I know.”

I eye her, bemused. “Okay, sure. I can do that.”

“By the way, I took both Otis and Lola for a walk yesterday. Lola’s gotten over her annoyance with him, and I think they’re friends now.”

“That’s good. He hasn’t been very friendly to other dogs we’ve met in the park.”

“I know.” She nods. “Poor guy.” She pauses. “I think he really wants friends, though—he just doesn’t know how to do it.” She pauses. “But you know, Lola gave him a little snap to tell him to back off and he learned. So he just needs more socializing.”

“Well, I’ll let his owner worry about that. If we can ever find him.”

“He was also super nervous in the elevator at my grandma’s home.”

“Yeah, he kind of had a traumatic elevator experience.”

“That explains it. He was okay, though. I carried him in the elevator, but he was shaking.”

“He hates elevators.”

“Is that why his name is Otis?”

“Yeah.”

She laughs. “I like it.”

“I didn’t know what his name was. It seemed fitting.” I shrug. “I guess he’ll go back to his other name when he’s home.”

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