way.”
“Can I help you?” A woman in a blue smock with handy pockets for treats stood at the ready. “What’s your baby’s name?” She bent over to Billy, who flopped over exposing his belly. She rubbed it as he snork-snorked appreciatively.
“His name is Billy. I’m looking for dog food,” I said. Duh. “I don’t know what kind to get.”
“I just told you,” Corinne said.
I ignored her. “I adopted him today, and I’ve never had a dog before.”
I obviously said the magic words, because the clerk lit up like a kid at Christmas. “Oh, how wonderful! That is wonderful. Good for you. You saved a life today.” She beamed at me. “Now this is what the vet recommends.” She pointed to the same pricey bags Corinne had tried to steer me toward.
“Hah!” Corinne said.
“Why is it so expensive?”
“It’s very balanced nutrition.”
“What’s wrong with this kind?” I pointed to a yellow bag. “I see them on TV.”
The clerk gave me a pitying look. “Nothing wrong with it, if you don’t mind feeding your dog corn and fillers.”
“Corn is bad?”
“It’s a common allergen. It adds bulk to the food, but it isn’t digestible. So you know what that means.” She looked meaningfully at Billy’s rear. “What goes in must come out.”
“Gotcha. So this expensive stuff makes less poop.”
“Exactly.” She gave me a huge smile. She had me, and she knew it. I looked at the prices and shook my head again. For that price, Billy had better shit gold bricks.
I had thought I would buy a little sack of food for a few days and maybe a water dish, because he wasn’t drinking out of my good china. Turns out, my arms couldn’t carry everything I ended up with. Billy needed food and the gravy for his coat—if the food was so balanced, why did he need supplements—a dog bed that was guaranteed to be rip-tear proof, chewy treats and toys to keep him from destroying my apartment, pooper-scooper supplies. Ugh.
I balked when it came to buying animal parts for him to gnaw on. I said no to pig’s ears and cow hooves. Billy was thrilled with the bins of bones and bits. His smashed-up little nose was going crazy whuffling and snorking.
“What’s that?” I pointed to a long, slender thing that looked an oddly shaped rawhide chew. “A bull stick?”
Andrea blushed and whispered in my ear.
“Ew! Who buys things like that?” Dog lovers had a lot to answer for in my book.
I left with my arms laden with packages and my bank account considerably lighter.
Corinne was insufferable all the way home. Where’s a demon when you need one?
Chapter 5
I woke the next morning with two thoughts. First: I had no place to go. No one was expecting me to show up anywhere. I could lie in bed all day long and no one would care or would even miss me, which was both liberating and depressing. Second: The whining at the door was a dog, and if I didn’t take him outside immediately, he would do something vile to my carpet, assuming he hadn’t already.
So much for lying in bed. I pulled on some ugly sweats, jammed a wooly striped hat on my head and grabbed a leash. Billy danced at the door, snuffling with either joy or desperation. It all looks the same on a pug.
A quick peek outside showed me the coast was again clear. I opened the door wider and Billy darted out, half-dragging me through the parking lot. He stopped abruptly, sniffed and watered the tires of the closest SUV. Then he started to squat.
I panicked and dragged him over to the row of scraggly evergreens that passes for landscaping. I should have scooped the poop and taken the evidence away, but I’d left the supplies inside, and quite frankly the prospect was too horrible to face first thing in the morning.
I glanced at the steaming pile. There were little bits of blue in it that resembled the color of my towels. I thought I had left a washcloth in the bathroom yesterday.
This was the dog that needed forty-dollar dog food? So far he had eaten
“Can I help you?” A woman in a blue smock with handy pockets for treats stood at the ready. “What’s your baby’s name?” She bent over to Billy, who flopped over exposing his belly. She rubbed it as he snork-snorked appreciatively.
“His name is Billy. I’m looking for dog food,” I said. Duh. “I don’t know what kind to get.”
“I just told you,” Corinne said.
I ignored her. “I adopted him today, and I’ve never had a dog before.”
I obviously said the magic words, because the clerk lit up like a kid at Christmas. “Oh, how wonderful! That is wonderful. Good for you. You saved a life today.” She beamed at me. “Now this is what the vet recommends.” She pointed to the same pricey bags Corinne had tried to steer me toward.
“Hah!” Corinne said.
“Why is it so expensive?”
“It’s very balanced nutrition.”
“What’s wrong with this kind?” I pointed to a yellow bag. “I see them on TV.”
The clerk gave me a pitying look. “Nothing wrong with it, if you don’t mind feeding your dog corn and fillers.”
“Corn is bad?”
“It’s a common allergen. It adds bulk to the food, but it isn’t digestible. So you know what that means.” She looked meaningfully at Billy’s rear. “What goes in must come out.”
“Gotcha. So this expensive stuff makes less poop.”
“Exactly.” She gave me a huge smile. She had me, and she knew it. I looked at the prices and shook my head again. For that price, Billy had better shit gold bricks.
I had thought I would buy a little sack of food for a few days and maybe a water dish, because he wasn’t drinking out of my good china. Turns out, my arms couldn’t carry everything I ended up with. Billy needed food and the gravy for his coat—if the food was so balanced, why did he need supplements—a dog bed that was guaranteed to be rip-tear proof, chewy treats and toys to keep him from destroying my apartment, pooper-scooper supplies. Ugh.
I balked when it came to buying animal parts for him to gnaw on. I said no to pig’s ears and cow hooves. Billy was thrilled with the bins of bones and bits. His smashed-up little nose was going crazy whuffling and snorking.
“What’s that?” I pointed to a long, slender thing that looked an oddly shaped rawhide chew. “A bull stick?”
Andrea blushed and whispered in my ear.
“Ew! Who buys things like that?” Dog lovers had a lot to answer for in my book.
I left with my arms laden with packages and my bank account considerably lighter.
Corinne was insufferable all the way home. Where’s a demon when you need one?
Chapter 5
I woke the next morning with two thoughts. First: I had no place to go. No one was expecting me to show up anywhere. I could lie in bed all day long and no one would care or would even miss me, which was both liberating and depressing. Second: The whining at the door was a dog, and if I didn’t take him outside immediately, he would do something vile to my carpet, assuming he hadn’t already.
So much for lying in bed. I pulled on some ugly sweats, jammed a wooly striped hat on my head and grabbed a leash. Billy danced at the door, snuffling with either joy or desperation. It all looks the same on a pug.
A quick peek outside showed me the coast was again clear. I opened the door wider and Billy darted out, half-dragging me through the parking lot. He stopped abruptly, sniffed and watered the tires of the closest SUV. Then he started to squat.
I panicked and dragged him over to the row of scraggly evergreens that passes for landscaping. I should have scooped the poop and taken the evidence away, but I’d left the supplies inside, and quite frankly the prospect was too horrible to face first thing in the morning.
I glanced at the steaming pile. There were little bits of blue in it that resembled the color of my towels. I thought I had left a washcloth in the bathroom yesterday.
This was the dog that needed forty-dollar dog food? So far he had eaten
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