You can read Chapter One here.
"What the hell am I supposed to do with a dog?"
An hour and a half later, the dog I'd inadvertently hit sat in the passenger seat of my Firebird, looking quite happy to be there. The veterinarian I'd taken him to had performed x-rays and determined that nothing was broken, much to my relief. She had also informed me the dog was a male (a fact that was not immediately obvious, due to the long fluffy coat). She'd offered to turn him into a shelter, but I couldn't allow that. I felt a responsibility for the beast. I decided to take him home and try to find his owner, and if that failed, I'd find someone to take care of him.
The vet's assistants had cleaned him up and brushed out the worst of his tangles, and he no longer looked quite as scruffy, though the odor in the car was still overwhelmingly canine. He didn't stink, exactly, but he definitely did reek of dog.
He was, the vet had guessed, half rough collie, half... well, something. He had a vaguely Lassie-like look to him, what with the long brown fur, the white ruff around his neck, and the stripe on his face, but (judging from the quick glance I'd taken at the collie breed standard on my phone) his ears didn't stand up quite like a collie's, and his body was thicker and chunkier than I seemed to remember Lassie's being. It didn't seem to matter all that much, though. He might not be a purebred, but he was nevertheless a very pretty dog.
I mean, I thought Gabe would think so. To me, he just looked like a nuisance. A furry nuisance.
The dog ignored my question, perhaps judging correctly that it had been rhetorical in nature. Or perhaps he just wasn't all that interested in me right now. He seemed enraptured by the car ride, staring at everything we passed, sniffing the air that flowed in through the window I'd cracked open. He looked like riding in my Firebird was the best thing that had ever happened to him.
"If you like this," I told him, "wait till you get to ride in a Mustang."
A slight wave of the tail was my only answer. Not that I had expected much of a reply, all things considered. I don't know much about dogs, but I do know they're not especially articulate.
Anyway, this dog was never riding in my beloved Mustang Boss. Never. Ever. Ever.
"You're a lucky animal," I said, turning onto the road that led toward home. "You got hit by a car, and all you got out of it was a sprain and some bruises. Not even cracked ribs. You should be grateful it wasn't worse."
The tail waved, but the steady regard out the window never wavered.
"You could also try being grateful that I paid for your treatment. You know, I didn't have to do that. Some people would've just left you there on the side of the road."
The dog turned his head and gazed at me over his shoulder. There was a look of steady trust in the deep brown eyes, a look that said, I know you wouldn't do that.
"I could have, though. That's the point I'm trying to make here. I could have."
But you wouldn't have.
"I don't think you appreciate the remarkably fortunate situation you've fallen into," I grumbled, unaccountably annoyed by the trusting look in the dark eyes. "I don't know much about dogs, but I do have the money to feed you gourmet dog food. You can wear a diamond-studded collar, if you happen to want one. And while I'm not a dog person myself, I have a fiancé who will spoil you absolutely rotten."
The tail waved again. Sounds good to me.
"Glad you approve," I huffed, and turned into the gated driveway that led home.
***
"Oh. My. God. You got a dog."
Somewhat to my annoyance, the dog had followed me into the house. I had had intentions of perhaps having a kennel (heated and air conditioned, of course) constructed somewhere in the back yard, some distance from the house, tomorrow. Until then, I thought, the dog could reside in one of the many sheds on the property. But before I realized it, the dog had leapt from the car and followed me into the foyer, and once Gabe saw him--
Well, it was all over. I knew it, and so did the dog. Until we located its owner, this animal was going to reside in the house, eat in the dining room, and very probably sleep in our bed. I decided not to argue about it. I suspected it was prudent to avoid any sort of debate on the topic, lest Gabe decide to make me sleep in a kennel.
Gabe was down on his knees, cooing to the dog, rubbing his ears, and the beast immediately lost the cool and restrained dignity he had been demonstrating toward me. Scant seconds later, he was rolling around on the hardwood floor, waving his feet in the air, while Gabe rubbed the white fuzzy belly.
"I did not get him," I answered at last, unaccountably miffed that the dog liked him better. Well, of course it did-- what did I know about dogs? I hadn't so much as petted the creature. Maybe I should have tried that. "If anything, he got me. He saw my car coming and decided to run right out in front of it. He's damn lucky to be alive."
"Awwwwww, poor baby." Gabe cooed to the dog, who waved his feet in the air more enthusiastically than before. Really, he looked ridiculous, and so did Gabe. "Why were you running around loose, silly dog?"
"He doesn't talk," I grumbled.
"No kidding." Gabe looked up for a moment, flashing his brightest, happiest grin. "But I bet he listens."
His words reminded me of how I'd been talking to the dog in the car, and I felt my face redden with embarrassment. Or maybe it was just a response to Gabe's obvious joy, a response that made something light up inside me and heated my cheeks.
Dogs are useless, dirty, destructive creatures, I reminded myself, echoing my father's words deliberately. I hadn't always agreed with my father, but in this case, he'd been right. This dog smelled, and I could see dirt he'd tracked in already adorning the clean floor, along with long tufts of hair that had apparently just fallen off when Gabe rubbed its belly. My father had definitely been right. Dogs had no practical purpose whatsoever.
And yet I couldn't help thinking that maybe, just maybe, it would be worth sharing the house with a odoriferous, rackety, furry canine, just to keep that smile on Gabe's face.
More to come...
