Stanley was oblivious, too immersed in the scents that lined Foxglove Street to pay him any heed.
They arrived at Grace’s house just then. Stanley seemed to recognise the place instantly and pushed his nose against the front gate in an attempt to open it. When the latch prevented him from getting inside, he sat down and glanced up at Grace for help.
“I can’t believe he remembers this is where I live,” Grace said. “He’s only been here once before. How can he remember this is where I live, after just one visit, and yet he’s lost and missing from his own home?”
“Who knows? We’re assuming there’s an owner out there looking for him. For all we know, he was dumped by someone who didn’t want him anymore and left to fend for himself.”
“I hate that idea,” Grace said, patting the dog’s head. “Poor Stanley. Why would someone want to dump you? You’re so lovely.”
Stanley yipped in agreement. As Grace pulled her house keys from her bag, Ryan followed her to the door and handed over Stanley’s dog bed.
“Thanks again for a great dinner tonight,” Grace said. “And thanks for helping with Stanley today, and tomorrow, too. I don’t know what I would’ve done without you.”
“See you in the morning.”
“See you then.”
Ryan gave a wave goodnight and turned to leave. As he stepped through the garden gate, he caught sight of Stanley dashing into the house and heard Grace laughing as she followed him inside with the dog bed clasped in her arms.
The door closed, cutting off the sound of her laughter. Yet, as he retraced his steps along Foxglove Street towards home, Ryan heard it still ringing in his head, the sound like a melody in search of lyrics only he could write.
