A Better Man(25)

"Okey-­dokey."

"Go ahead. I'll wait here until I hear the deadbolt."

Mrs. B closed the door and Lucy sighed with relief when she heard the bolt slam home. It was only a matter of time before her neighbor would need professional assistance. In the meantime, Lucy planned to help out as much as possible.

She crossed the lawn and opened the door to her little Victorian cottage. In the distance she heard the click-­click-­click of nails on the hardwood floor. Without thought, she knelt down for the onslaught of poochie smooches from Ziggy. Her golden retriever didn't disappoint as he came around the corner of the kitchen, tail sweeping side-­to-­side.

Ziggy had come into her life at a time when great changes had been taking place. And though he'd never know, he'd saved her from herself more than once.

After she'd picked him out at the animal shelter three years ago, David Bowie's "Changes" had come on the radio. She hadn't missed a beat in the irony and immediately named him after Bowie's alter ego. Because of the surname she'd taken for a fresh start after her divorce, her students called her "Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds." Adding "Ziggy Stardust" to her life had been like having a friend sent down from heaven at a time when she'd really needed one.

Ziggy's job was to protect her against the spiders from Mars. Aka mean, scary people. Her job was to protect Ziggy from ending up in another animal shelter and giving him all the love he deserved. They had an understanding and a loyal relationship.

Perhaps the first in Lucy's entire life.

Ziggy just had one little problem.

He tooted.

A lot.

She'd changed his food and treats several times but it hadn't helped. The vet said his digestive system just created a lot of gas.

Whew. She'd say.

"Hey, Zigmeister." She rubbed his large head between the ears, then wrapped her arms around him for a hug. "How'd your day go? Find any squirrels to chase?"

Ziggy gave a quick bark, then moved his big body closer. Lucy ended up on her butt while her dog smothered her in canine worship.



       
         
       
        

Coming home now was so peaceful. Her little cottage was the one-­the only-­place she felt safe. And it was all hers. Not only did she not have to share it, she didn't have to ask permission for anything. She didn't need to seek approval on how to decorate or what to cook for dinner. She didn't need to ask for authorization to go into another room so she could focus on her studies, watch her favorite TV show, read a book for leisure, or work on the romance novels she'd begun to write in search of at least some kind of happily-­ever-­after. During her marriage she'd had to tread lightly in fear of setting off her ex-­husband's volatile temper. Somehow she'd survived.

Barely.

She pulled herself up off the floor, dusted off the dog hair, and dropped her bag into the chair by the door. Next, the deadbolt slammed shut and she took a deep breath.

"Who wants a treat before dinner?"

Ziggy's tail wagged in quick response and Lucy went to the kitchen cupboard for a Beggin' Strip. She broke the treat into four pieces and fed each one to him after he performed his tricks of rolling over, shaking hands, lying down, and covering his nose with his paws.

"Good boy."

He rewarded her by passing gas.

"Whew! What have you been eating?"

He gave a silly bark and got down on his front paws like, Yeah, I reek, but aren't I cute?

He was. Which was the only reason she forgave him for the constant stinkage.

After a thorough wash of her hands, Lucy rummaged through the freezer and pulled out the small tub of Dove Unconditional Chocolate ice cream. The best part of living alone was you didn't have to share, hide, or explain the reason you were munching on your guilty pleasure before dinner. She grabbed a spoon from the drawer, flipped off the top of the ice cream, and dug in.

"Mmmmmmm."

The smooth chocolate rolled over her tongue while Ziggy cocked his head.

"This is sinful, Zig. Be glad you're a dog and you don't have to try to refrain from stuff like this when your day goes from bad to haywire. Lord knows you don't need anything else to stink up your insides."

Studying the vintage enamelware on her reclaimed wood shelves, she snuck another bite and wished the sweet deliciousness could rewind her greeting to Jordan Kincade at The Muddy Cup. She hadn't meant to sound so snippy when he'd sat down five minutes late for their meeting. She hadn't meant to make herself look like a snob. Had it not been for her heart pounding like a captured rabbit, she could have handled the encounter much easier.