“Doc’s? Why, are you sick?”
“No…I’m puppy sitting.”
“When did Doc get a dog?”
She was about to launch into the tale of how they worked together to rescue little Jamie when the dog started to chew on her earlobe. Distracted, she shifted the puppy so he couldn’t reach her ear, and told her dad, “It’s a long story and the little guy is nibbling on me. Jack had an emergency call over at Honey’s. I’ll be here until he gets back.”
“I guess you can’t bring the little guy over here, what with Grace’s allergies.”
She paused, unsure of what to say to her father about Grandpa’s truck. Finally, she decided to just tell him, “I’m really sorry, Pop.”
Her shift in topic wasn’t lost on her father. “I know you are, Caitlin.” The disappointment coloring his words added another layer of guilt. “But the important thing is that no one was hurt.”
“But Grandpa’s truck—” she began.
“Is easily fixed and it’s only a few days. By now the people in town know that nothing will keep a Mulcahy from fulfilling a promise to fix whatever is broken. Give a call when you’re leaving Doc’s.”
“OK. Talk to you later.”
Jameson chose that moment to squirm out of her arms and toddle to the middle of the kitchen floor and squat. “Jameson. No!”
The puppy looked up at her, and if he was human, she would have sworn he was smiling up at her…maybe it was his little underbite. But one thing was for sure: he didn’t understand the word no. Either that or he chose not to listen—and peed all over the place.
Grabbing the roll of paper towels, she tore off a bunch and mopped up the puddle and was hunting up the garbage can when she heard him yipping behind her. She spun around and started laughing. Jameson had grabbed a hold of the paper towels and was running in a circle—a wide arc of white following wherever he ran.
After a few minutes, she realized he was scared of the long, flowing white trailing behind him. “It’s OK, Jamie,” she soothed. She scooped him up and walked to the back door. They had been here awhile and he hadn’t had to do any of his doggie business. He probably had to go, especially since he peed. Petting his neck, she remembered he didn’t have a collar. She had to think of something else. She didn’t want to run to the risk of him running away from her in the dark.
Just the thought of that had her turning around to face the mess he’d made in the kitchen. “I guess we’d better look for some newspaper. Can’t have you pooping on Jack’s floor.”
She found what she was looking for in the living room, a neat stack of newspaper beside the fireplace, and wondered if he rolled them up into paper logs to start a fire like her father did.
Taking the time to notice the fireplace, she wondered if it had always been a soft cream color or if the bricks had been unpainted when the house was new. She’d have to ask Miss Trudi; the town’s quirky octogenarian would know.
It was getting darker by the moment, so she crossed the room and lit the floor lamp. The room was bathed in the soft glow of incandescent light, giving it an ethereal quality. She’d have to ask Jack why he wasn’t replacing his light bulbs with fluorescent ones. Her dad had been all for reducing their carbon footprint—and in fact had started a mini campaign in town, doing his part to encourage those who were behind the times to step it up.
That thought had her smiling as she grabbed some newspaper and headed back to the kitchen. She set him down on the floor and spread the paper next to the back door. “OK…go ahead.”
He sat down and tilted his head to the side as he looked up at her. She wondered if he understood anything she was saying. Dogs are very smart animals. “Well,” she said, watching him for a sign that he had to go to the bathroom. When he didn’t move, she laughed. Maybe he couldn’t go because she was watching him. She turned her back and heard him on the paper. “Good dog.”
Giving him a few minutes, she waited before looking over her shoulder. “Jamie!” He hadn’t been going to the bathroom. He paused mid-chew and smiled an adorable little doggy smile; he was eating the paper.
She leaned down to grab it out of his mouth, and he shivered in excitement, leaning down on his front paws with his tail in the air. He was ready to play! “Open your mouth,” she coaxed. He jerked his head and tugged, spreading the newspaper from the back door across to the stove.
“Jamie, no.” He was making a huge mess. She would have to clean it all up before Jack got home, but as soon as she started to reach for the paper, he tossed his head from side to side as if to say no and ran for the living room, shreds of paper trailing behind him.