Page 5 of Must Love Dogs… and Hockey

I carry the dog over to the woman. “Here’s your dog.”

“He’s n-not my dog,” she says, leaning away as if she’s afraid of him.

I pause. “Oh.” I set him down on the floor, holding his collar.

Shaking her head and wringing her hands, she sobs, “I can’t do this. Oh my God, I nearly killed him! I can’t do this.”

I bite my lip and meet Cookie’s eyes.

She’s practically having a breakdown. The poor dog doesn’t know what to do. He keeps looking at me with that funny old-man expression.

I’mnot sure what to do. I don’t want to leave them when she’s melting down. “Can we help you get up to your apartment?”

She stares at me blankly. Then she shakes her head. “I don’t live here.”

What the fuck? What is she doing here, then? “Whose dog is he? Does his owner live here?”

“Yes.” She’s bouncing around as if she wants to bolt. “I have to go. I’ll give you his number.” She digs frantically in her purse.

I frown. What? I don’t want the owner’s number. What are we supposed to do with that?

“I got this,” Cookie says. “What’s his number?”

She rattles it off and Cookie enters it into his phone

“What’s his name?” Cookie asks.

“Percy.”

As Cookie’s entering that into his phone, she takes off running and bolts out of the building.

Cookie and I stare after her.

What just happened?

I look down at the dog. “I don’t even know your name, little dude.”

“He likes you,” Cookie says. “I guess he knows you saved his life.”

I turn to Javier, who is still watching us. “Hey, Javier, do you know who that was?”

He shakes his head. “Never seen her before.”

“Do you know someone named Percy who lives here?”

“No.” He frowns.

“We’ve got his number,” Cookie says. “Let’s call him.”

We sit on the chairs, one of two furniture groupings in the lobby on either side of the security desk. Cookie calls the number. After a moment, he says, “Voice mail.” He listens, then ends the call. “I think she gave us the wrong number. That was someone named Dennis.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake. Why is this happening?” I look down at the dog and sigh. “Well, let’s go up to my place and figure out what to do.”

I grab the leash lying on the lobby floor, but I carry the dog into the elevator and we ride it up to the seventh floor. Cookie comes with us.

“What are you going to do?”

I sigh. “Nothing, tonight. It’s after midnight. Guess I’m stuck with him.” I cock an eyebrow. “You want him?”

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