He lifts his chin weakly from the ground, and I offer a few scratches and pets. His coarse fur is much softer than it looks.
“My house isn’t huge, but there’s a dog park across the street.” I scan his kennel. “You’ll have a hell of a lot more room than you do here.”
His tail begins slapping the gray unforgiving floor.
“And I’m not calling you Dogmeat. You’re not a walking joke, that bullshit stays here.”
He stands to his full height and I blink.
“Goddamn, you’re massive.” I shake my head. “Just when I thought you couldn’t appear any bigger.” I’m not crouched all the way down, yet I find myself looking up to meet his vacant stare. He’s easily over a hundred and fifty pounds.
His gaze burrows into mine, but there’s an emptiness in his eyes, like he’s given up hope. I recognize that kind of surrender. He’s been to hell and back.
This is my dog.
After forty-five minutes of paperwork with Carol, I’m walking out the door with a new dog. My truck jerks when he hops up into the cab, giving my suspension a run for its money. With the way his tongue is lolled out of his mouth, it almost looks like he’s smiling. This started because of Kelly, but maybe this will be good for me too. Kelly has always said I should adopt a dog.
“Wanna get something to eat?”
His tail thumps.
“Yeah, me too. I’m fuckin’ starving.”
Before we get on the highway, I swing through the drive-thru of a fast-food joint and order four burgers—two for each of us—a cup of water, and a shake. When we park to eat, I expect him to snarf them down in a single gulp, but he eats at a respectable pace, almost like he’s savoring every bite. I’m well aware this is bad for him, but damn, poor guy has been in jail for a year.
“I’ve tattooed a few guys who’ve been in prison,” I tell him, swallowing. “One of them told me that the second thing he did when he was released was get a burger.”
The dog looks at me with raised eyebrows, ears twitching.
“The first thing? The first thing he did was blow out his girlfriend’s back. I don’t know who your girlfriend is, but I hope you enjoy these bail burgers as a consolation.”
I finish my first burger and crumple up the wrapper, tossing it in the brown bag. Then I unwrap the second one and hold it out for him. He takes it from me, biting it clumsily. The bottom part of the bun drops onto the seat, but he manages to finish the rest of it before dipping his head to gobble up the remainder.
“Thirsty?” Gingerly, I remove the lid from the paper cup filled with water. My new buddy leans down and slurps up a few gulps, then sits up straight. Water drips from his muzzle when he pants.
“Life is good on the outside, huh?” I take another bite of my burger and shift into gear. “Ready to roll?”
With us back on the highway, he smears his snot all over the passenger glass as he watches the world pass by. “Aw, come on, man.” I lower the window, and he thrusts his giant head into the fresh air, letting his tongue flap in the wind. The corner of my mouth turns up in a smirk. He needs a name, but I might leave that to Kelly.
“Tomorrow is going to be a little weird . . .” He’s not listening to me, far too interested in the cornfields. “I’m going to need youto play along. You’re just gonna have to trust me. At first you’re gonna think I’m a huge asshole, but I promise it’s not what you think it is.”
The big brute pulls his head back in and faces me. Oh, now he wants to listen. I roll up the window. We’ve got six and a half hours to kill before we get home.
“So, there’s this girl . . .”
“Oh come on!” I shout when my hair dryer trips the breaker, causing my house to fall silent. I forgot to unplug the microwave first. The old wiring in this house is going to drive me mad. I once had a guy come out and do an estimate and the number was so big I almost pulled a muscle laughing.
“Ugh!” I stomp my foot like a toddler. “I don’t have time for this. I have a client at eleven!” As if whatever gods are controlling my day can somehow fix it because it’s inconvenient for my schedule.
After the world’s fastest shower, I just want to dry my hair. I try to brush through the knots while racing out of the bathroom. Working little sections at a time toward the ends doesn’t even seem to make a difference, because I ran out of conditioner and now the texture is all wrong. Maybe I didn’t rinse all the shampoo out. Or maybe the water softener is busted again. Great.
Last night I was up late working on the realism drawing of my mom. Something was off with the shadows and I spent far too much time trying to fix it—without any luck. This morning I looked at it again, hoping fresh eyes would help, but it was no use. I lost track of time, and now I’m running late for work. I hate being late, it throws off my whole groove. I make a note to ask Casper to help me with my drawing when I get to work. He’ll know what to do.
I bolt down the hall, skidding on one foot to stop in front of the breaker box.Flip. Click. Slam.The lights turn on again. Detouring through the kitchen on the way back, I yank the microwave cord from the wall, producing a small pop of a spark, and sprint back into the bathroom to resume drying my hair, this time with success.
Flipping my head upside down, I hold the hair dryer in one hand and my phone in the other to check the traffic report. There’s an accident on the highway,because of course there is. Looks like I’ll be taking the back roads until I get ahead of it.
Black jeans, black tee. My usual uniform. Someday I’ll start wearing more colors, but today is not that day. I grab my hairbrush and tear it through the tangles. Close enough.
