Page 23 of The Goode Girls of Maple Lane
Chapter Nine
HANNAH:When was the last time you checked your TikTok account?
CAMERON:Yesterday when I created it. You find it ok?
HANNAH:Girl...
CAMERON:If you can’t find it, look up Ruff ’n’ Rescue. They might’ve shared
HANNAH:Just check your account. Text me after. I’ll wait
Iblink at my phone, rereading her text. Hannah’s usually very direct so her ambiguity unnerves me a little, like I’ll open my account and find it’s been suspended for inappropriate content for somestrange reason, or one of my high school boyfriends found it and commented.
Aggie’s in her wagon and we’re halfway to our usual bench by the big scarlet oak and the little green lawn, where we do our walking exercises every weekend before I go to work. Given the ominous tone of Hannah’s text, I decide to wait until we reach the bench so I’m sitting down when I check the account and not weaving around joggers, coffee-walkers, and stroller moms. It’s a beautiful morning, with the trees donning their mid-October finery in bright yellows, reds, and oranges against an equally vivid blue sky. It even smells like fall, in the indefinable way that converts the sharp tang of newly decaying foliage into thoughts of hot apple cider or pumpkin pie. Posters for bonfire parties, orchard hours, and hayrides wrap lampposts. People I pass chat about Halloween. Hand-knit scarves flutter gently around necks and cozy wool coats abound.
If all that wasn’t autumnal enough, I’m wearing Everett’s olive and eggplant sweater. He left it with me last night after we finished making brownies and watchedThe Proposal. Well, Aggie watchedThe Proposal. Everett and I mostly made out on our half of the futon, though we agreed to not rush things. While I have extremely mixed feelings about this decision, I don’t have a good track record where sex and relationships are concerned.
I don’t want to get scared. I don’t want to screw this up. I don’t want—
“There she is!” says an excited voice just ahead of me. “I told you it was her.”
The voice, I realize, is coming from a jogger headed my way onthe trail. She’s with two other joggers, all of them in trendy, body-hugging athletic gear, slowing as they approach.
“This is Aggie, right?” says one of the other joggers.
“Um... yes?” I say, trying to recall if I’ve talked to any of these women before, and if I did talk to them, how the conversation went. Most of the people who ask about Aggie are super-friendly and supportive, but I also encounter the occasional random jerk who leaps to criticizing me for overfeeding or mishandling my dog, or who spews unsolicited advice about supplements I know more about than they do or hydrotherapy she’s not ready for and that I can’t afford.
“I can’t believe someone left her outside all that time,” says one of the joggers.
“They got her sick and then were going to let herdiefor it? Monsters!” exclaims another.
“People suck,” says the third, and in the next moment, the three of them are circling Aggie’s wagon, gushing with praise and enthusiasm about losing her first six pounds.
That’s when it clicks. If they know about her weight loss, they’ve seen our TikTok.
This is what Hannah meant. People are already finding us. People I don’t even know.
I let Aggie luxuriate in the attention, and soon enough, the joggers carry on with their morning run, departing with eager pleas that I keep posting so they can see how she’s doing. I tell them I’ll do my best and wave as they disappear around a bend in the trail. Then I wheel Aggie to our bench, let her get in a quick pee and a few steps, and whisk my phone from my pocket.
I gasp when I see the numbers, gaping at my phone with disbelief.
Over fifty thousand views and four thousand followers, in a little less than twenty-four hours. Then there are the comments. People cheering Aggie on, thanking me for saving her, telling stories about their obese dogs and asking for advice about what to do, recommending various therapies and diets, asking questions about her bald tail, offering to walk her or dog-sit if we’re anywhere near a number of different cities across the US. On and on they go, with most people posting simple support likeGo, Aggie, go!andI’m rooting for you, beautiful girl!
It’s overwhelming. I can’t stop scrolling the comments, astonished at how many people have stumbled onto this amateur video with a few details about Aggie, to see something they connect with about her resilience, and about the hardship she’s been through and the work that lies ahead. It’s not just dog people, though plenty of them are on here, populating the comments with remarks about golden retrievers. It’s people who see this beautiful, tenacious being fighting for the life she deserves after years of mistreatment, holding no grudges while finding genuine joy in the world around her. Anyone who’s been through tough times and is finding their way forward can probably relate on some level. If people with widely varied backgrounds and personalities can draw inspiration from comic book superheroes, why not from a dog?
CAMERON:Holy s**t
HANNAH:Right? Your dog’s an inspiration
CAMERON:I mean... OF COURSE SHE IS!
HANNAH:Going to make it hard for you to keep avoiding social though
CAMERON:I guess. Though I can’t possibly reply to all of these comments
HANNAH:Of course you can’t. Just do what feels good for you
CAMERON:Like hire a social media manager?
