“No!Bad boy.That’s enough out of you.”
The loud barking as soon as I started climbing the stairs had been a firm clue as to the elusive Ragnar’s identity, so when the door opens and I see Bess struggling to control a dog, it’s not a surprise.Whatisabit of a shock, is the size of the animal.
“I’m in over my head,” Bess blurts out by way of greeting.
Hard to hear her over the incessant barking of the dog, but my eyes were already fixed on her mouth, remembering the last time I was standing on her doorstep.
“Ragnar!Quiet!”my voice booms.
To my amazement, the dog promptly shuts up and sits down in front of me, his tongue lolling from his mouth.I reach out to scratch his head and notice Bess has one hand still on the door, and is clutching the dog’s collar with the other.
“How did you—” she starts, when I interrupt her.
“Can I come in?”
My question appears to catch her by surprise, but she rallies and releases her hold on the door.
“Yes, of course.”
It’s not until I step through the door, I realize I’ve never been inside her apartment.It smells like her, with hints of cinnamon and citrus.But at the moment the scent of wet dog is almost overwhelming everything else.
Towels are draped over every piece of furniture, and I see the remnants of what I’m guessing were once the guts of a pillow strewn across the floor.
“I had to give him a bath, but he won’t stay off my furniture,” Bess explains, her voice wobbly.
I get the sense she’s on the verge of a meltdown.
A sharp whistle coming from the kitchen area triggers the dog again.He starts barking furiously and struggles against the hold Bess still has on him.
“Let the dog go, I’ll handle him,” I tell her.“You take care of whatever that is.”I nudge my head to the kitchen.
I manage to snag the pup before he bolts after Bess and drag him to me as I sit down on the towel-covered sofa.The ear-piercing whistle, I’m guessing was a water kettle, stops abruptly.
“Ragnar, quiet,” I repeat my earlier command, hoping for the same result.
Whether he was following direction or stopped because the noise did, I’m not sure, but the result is the same.Peaceful quiet.At least, until the dog decides to climb on my lap to show me some love.
“Hey, you mutt,” I grumble, dodging the large pink tongue trying to lick the stubble off my face.“We don’t know each other that well.”
I shove him off my lap and he immediately curls up beside me, his body pressed up against my thigh.Almost instantly his eyes close.That’s when I hear the sound of someone blowing their nose.
The dog doesn’t budge when I get up and walk over to the kitchen, where I find Bess wiping her nose with a tissue.She looks like she’s been crying.
“Like I said, I’m in over my head,” she says by way of explanation.
I could ask her what she was thinking, taking on a dog who is more like a teenage version of a puppy, and not little or even average by any stretch of the imagination.I could admonish her for letting Buck con her into adopting the animal—since there’s no doubt in my mind the single-minded vet is behind this.But I’m pretty sure she doesn’t need that from me.
“Nah, it’ll all work out,” I assure her, tucking a stray hair behind her ear.“I remember when we first brought Carson home from the hospital.Shit, I couldn’t even recognize our house.Diapers, laundry, dirty dishes, I mean, the house was in a constant state of chaos, as were we, trying to fit a kid into an existing routine.It took a while, but a new routine evolved that included him.I’m guessing adopting a pup wouldn’t be that much different.Except it looks like it might be more like adopting a three-year-old than a newborn,” I joke to lighten the mood.
With some success, since her pretty mouth spreads in a smile.
“The difference is, we were kinda stuck with Carson, but you always have the option of finding him a new home.”
She shakes her head adamantly.“No, I couldn’t do that.I couldn’t give him away.”
“Understandable.”
I knew she wouldn’t, but I wanted to make clear there was that option.
