“Coming!”
I head back to the front but stop myself, turning back and grabbing a hard plastic chew toy that says it’s supposed to be good for dogs’ teeth and a soft plush hedgehog. I give it a squeeze, and instead of a squeak it makes a huff sound.
Outside, Niki yelps and glass crunches at the front of the store. The dog stands in the doorway, his head quirked to the side and one ear up.
“You heard that, huh?” I ask him. I squeeze it again and his thick, fluffy tail sways back and forth. “You gotta follow us if you want it.”
I probably should get a leash and collar, but it’s not like he’smydog. And he’s been surviving on his own well enough, it seems, so I decide to just let him come with us as long as he wants and leave when he wants.
He jumps up for the hedgehog toy and I pull it out of his reach. He sits down and lets out a little whine.
“Don’t torture him,” Niki says. She seems to be coming around now that he hasn’t decided to attack us.
“Okay, go get it?” I toss the hedgehog into the parking lot, and he bolts after it, scooping it up, giving it a shake and making it huff before trotting back and placing it at our feet. I pick it up and throw it for him, only this time when he launches after it, Niki and I follow. When the dog realizes we’re coming with him, he runs ahead a bit, then turns back and circles around us, chomping down on the hedgehog.
Huff. Huff. Huff.
We both laugh as he circles us with his new toy. I don’t think either of us has laughed or even smiled in weeks. It feels odd. And it reminds me of when I first met Andrew, how he tried to make me laugh, but it didn’t feel appropriate after everything that had happened. The thought only makes me smile more, and this time it’s a little easier.
Niki points us in the direction of a housing development near a river. While she settles into a house, I head to the river with our bottles and a bucket I found in the house’s linen closet. The dog follows me, probably not realizing what I’m grabbing the bucket for. I fill up our bottles and the bucket and head back to the house, where Niki has already set a fire in the fireplace.
She joins me on the back deck because we’ve already decided the dog isn’t coming inside until he’s cleaned off. And given how cold the water I splashed on my leg is, he’s probably going to decide against sticking with us anyway.
“I put an empty pot by the fire,” Niki says, closing the sliding glass door behind her.
“I’ll refill the bottles when we’re finished cleaning him,” I say.“Then we can boil it to drink.”
I try to wrestle the hedgehog away from him, but he latches on tightly, shaking his head.
“What should we call him?” Niki asks.
“I don’t... know. Drop it!”
He drops it.
“I don’t think ‘Drop It’ is a very good name,” she says, snorting.
I tell him to sit, and he does but then promptly stands back up when I set the hedgehog on the railing. “Where are we again?”
I take off my shoes and socks and roll up the bottoms of my jeans. It’s probably about forty degrees out, but I’d rather be cold for a bit than coldandwet. I take off my jacket and shirt and gently take the dog by the scruff of his neck. He doesn’t pull away, just keeps his eyes on the hedgehog.
Meanwhile, Niki has the road atlas in her hands and is skimming pages, trying to find where we are.
“Newton, North Carolina,” she finally says.
“Oh, Newton is a cute name.”
“Newt. I like it.”
I turn the dog’s head so he’s looking at me. “What about you? You like the name Newt?” He pants, his tongue sticking out of his mouth, which is probably as much confirmation as we’re going to get. “Newt it is. Now that we have a name for you, I have to say sorry for what I’m about to do, Newt.”
I let go of him and pour a bit of water from the bucket over his hindquarters. He lets out a whine and immediately starts trembling.
“I know, buddy,” I whisper. “But it will make you feel better, Ipromise.” I cup a little of the cold water in my hands and pour it over his head, then start shampooing.
Newt trembles, shakes, pants, and whines the whole time, but he stays put. And after I have a nice lather worked up around his ears, he seems to enjoy it a little. At least until I rinse him off with the rest of the water. When I’m done, I tell Niki to back up as he does a big shake and water goes flying everywhere. I can see flecks of dead fleas in the suds on the wooden deck, so the shampoo seems to have done its job.
“I’ll go get more water,” Niki says. “You go inside and warm up.”
