“Is it working?”
“A little.”
“Will it help if I tell you that you won’t always have to deal with Austin, at least not in person if that’s what you prefer? I’m sure we can set up an email check-in system or something that works for both of you.”
On one hand, it sounds like it could work. But on the other, it sounds like a lot of, well, work.
“Let me think about it, okay?”
“Okay.” She hugs me. “I won’t keep you hostage talking about this any longer, but remember if you need anything, just ask.”
I start to roll my cart away, but then stop and call out to Georgie as she’s about to turn down the aisle.
“Hey, Georgie,” I say. “Do you have any idea why a chicken would deliver my mail?”
Who would have thought that running errands today would give me quite the education? From the history of where I live to a mailman who’s also a performer for kids’ parties. Who knew?
The whole experience had given me lots to think about on my drive back home. I no sooner pull into the driveway when movement from the back lawn pulls my attention. I stay put behind the wheel of my car, watching the German shepherd as it slinks stealthily toward my back porch and climbs the steps.
The dog is big but also looks skinny, making me wonder whether or not it’s been fed recently. My animal lover instincts are kicking in, begging me to rush to its side, but let’s be real—this is a strange dog. Like, stranger danger level ten. It’s not just any dog, but a German shepherd, the kind they use in police forces to take down bad guys. So, pardon me if I’m not leaping out of my car to give it a warm welcome.
I eye the distance between me and the front door, mentally calculating if I can make it inside without becoming a human chew toy. The song “Galvanize” by the Chemical Brothers begins to play in the background of my mind. The dog is watching me, too, which is only slightly terrifying. Maybe if I time it just right, I can sprint to the house and slam the door before Cujo decides to pounce.
Taking a deep breath, I make my move, flinging the car door open and launching myself out like a sprinter at the Olympics. My heart is pounding, and I’m halfway to the house when I hear the sound of paws thudding behind me. I quicken my pace, pumping my legs faster and praying I don’t trip over my own feet.
But of course, I do. Just as I reach the porch steps, I feel something warm and furry against my legs, and the next thing I know, I’m face-planting into the dirt. My thoughts are racing:Thisis it.Thisis how I die.
But instead of teeth sinking into my skin, I feel...wetness. On my cheek. I crack one eye open to find the dog standing over me, its big brown eyes filled with pure, unadulterated joy as it licks my face like I’m a popsicle on a hot day.
“Okay, okay.” Sitting up slowly, laughing, I try to push the exuberant, loving pup away. “I get it. You’re not going to eat me.” Scratching the dog’s neck, I notice there’s no collar, which makes my stomach both sink in sadness and also do a dance of happiness. Sad, because I was hoping to reunite this sweetie with its owner, but happy because…well, I like dogs, so if we get to hang out a little longer that’s fine by me.
I grab my groceries from the car and head inside, certain as I approach my door that this animal will probably take off or, perhaps, curl up on the porch where she was before. Either way, I’m not expecting it to prance inside in front of me, leading the way in, as I swing the door open.
Laughing, I follow my new friend inside and close the door behind me. “Come on in, why don’t ya?”
I’m no stranger to having a pet, and I miss my dog. My dad had a lab that used to also double as my dog, as in I’d steal it when I could so I had a running buddy, but when I moved I promised to leave him so that my dad had company.
I second-guess my judgment for having let this dog in, following him as he wanders room to room, inspecting my things. When we enter the living room, he spots a pile of blankets I’d tossed in a corner in an unpacking flurry earlier today. I watch as the animal turns in a circle, over and over again, landing in a heap in the center of the fabric. Within a matter of seconds, a soft snore rises from its body and its eyes are closed tight.
Shaking my head, I make my way back to the kitchen to put my groceries away. I start digging around for something I can use as water and food bowls for the animal. I’m not a horrible hostess; I want to make sure my four legged visitor gets taken care of if he, or she, needs room service.
A few hours later, after I’ve grilled a couple of steaks for us—filet mignon because why not?—I glance out the window and see it’s getting dark. My plan had been to hop in the car and drive to a few neighboring houses—no, not Austin’s…friendly neighbors—and ask about the dog. With night falling I realize I need to go now.
Swiping my keys, I shake them in the air and call out to the strange animal. “Come on, sweetie. Let’s go find your family.”
When I approach his makeshift bed, I notice the dog is shaking. Trembling excessively is probably the better way to describe it. Kneeling down, I put my hand on its back and pet its fur slowly. “What’s going on, buddy?”
No sooner are the words out of my mouth than a loud crack sounds in the air around us followed closely by a clap of thunder. There’s a pitter-patter of raindrops drumming repetitively on the roof as a thunderstorm rolls in around us.
“Fine. You win, we’ll wait til morning.” I can’t prove it, but I swear that dog stopped shaking as soon as I acquiesced.
Yawning, sleep begins to overtake me, leading me to make my way upstairs to head to bed. I do my nightly routine, washing my face and doing the girl things I like to do, and when I walk into my bedroom, I find my unexpected guest on the floor, next to my side of the bed, already asleep.
“Goodnight, stinker,” I whisper as I climb over my new friend and turn out the light. As I get settled under the covers, I glance outside my window, realizing for the first time that I have a full view from here across the field to Austin’s house.
It looks lonely over there. It looks cold and dark, like a haunted house that you’d see in a cartoon. There’s one lone light that burns bright in an upstairs window, and as I watch, it’s suddenly extinguished. It’s as if someone was there and knew I was watching.
The dog’s snoring gets louder beside me as I lay my head on my pillow. The vision of Austin’s light dampening on replay in my head as the sound of raindrops falling overhead lulls me to sleep.
