3. Ethan
3
ETHAN
I push open the front door and squint against the harsh sunlight that invades my vision. The remnants of last night’s bourbon still linger in my system. My head is pounding.
I don’t have to leave my house to have a good time, but this morning, my body is reminding me of my age. I can’t just knock back drinks like I used to. I have to slow down and pace myself, something I couldn’t remember last night as I was trying to forget my stupid error with Madison.
There’s a layer of frost on everything, and I can already feel my feet protesting even though they’re in pretty lush slippers. It doesn’t get too cold here on Oak Island. It never even snows, but there is definitely a difference between stepping outside on a fifty-degree morning and an eighty-degree morning.
I wince as my headache comes back with a vengeance. I need a cup of coffee. I don’t really need to get my mail, but there’s something about a walk in the cold morning air that wakes me up. My driveway is a quarter of an acre away, and it’s good to stretch my legs .
As I head down the driveway toward the mailbox, something small and fast catches my eye. At first, I think I’m imagining it, that the alcohol is still playing tricks on me, but then I see it again. It’s a little furball darting across the lawn.
I stop, blinking hard to clear my vision.
“What the hell?” I mutter, bending down slightly to get a better look. I should have put in my contacts before coming outside.
The creature comes into focus, and it’s a tiny, energetic puppy. The little pug is running full speed like I’m its best friend and it’s been missing me for a long time. Its nose is mashed up against its face, and I shake my head, looking at it. It’s kind of ugly, but also kind of cute. The puppy’s tail, which looks more like a pig’s tail with the way it’s curled, is wagging furiously.
I stand there, curious to see what the little fellow is going to do. I’ve seen stray cats, pelicans, and even turtles on my property before, but never a runaway puppy. Clearly, this is not a wild dog.
The puppy skids to a stop in front of me, looking up with bright, expectant eyes. It’s panting, its little tongue hanging out, and for a moment, all I can do is stare down at it, wondering where the hell it came from.
But then, there’s something innate in me that suggests I bend down and pick it up. It’s cute, in its own ugly way, and he looks like he’s probably lost.
“Well, hey there, little guy.” I crouch down to get a closer look. The puppy immediately jumps up, placing its tiny paws on my robed knee, as if it’s been waiting for this exact moment all its short life. “Where’d you come from?”
The puppy tilts its head, as if trying to understand me, then lets out a playful bark, as though it’s answering me .
I reach out to check the collar, hoping for some kind of identification. Maybe a phone number or an address that can tell me where this little runaway belongs. Maybe it belongs to a new neighbor. I’ve seen people walking dogs up and down the street, and I’ve never seen this one.
But when I turn the tag over, there’s no identifying information for the owner, just the name “Scout” engraved on the metal.
“Scout, huh?” I say, looking down at the pup. “That’s all you’ve got? No address, no phone number?”
Scout just barks again, wagging his tail so hard his whole body wiggles. I can’t help but chuckle. This little thing is full of energy, and despite my slow, painful morning, I feel my mood start to lift.
“All right, Scout. Let’s get you inside. Someone’s probably out looking for you right now, and they don’t want you to get run over by some car.” I scoop him into my arms. He can’t weigh more than ten pounds max.
As I walk back toward the house, Scout squirms in my arms, clearly excited by all the new sights and sounds. I can feel the warmth of the puppy’s small body against my chest, and I realize it’s been a long time since I’ve had something this innocent in my life.
Aurora grew up and left me years ago, and her mother had issues before that. I don’t want to say I’m damaged goods, but I’ve dealt with a lot. The idea of having a little puppy to play with, just for a short while, is annoyingly exciting.
I push the front door open with my shoulder, carrying Scout inside, realizing once I’m in that I completely forgot to get the mail after all.
The puppy immediately starts wiggling again, desperate to explore his new surroundings. I set him down on the floor, watching as he sniffs around, investigating every corner of the foyer.
“If you pee on the carpet, I’m charging the cleaning fee to your owner.” I watch as Scout curiously investigates everything, biting the sofa experimentally before deciding that it’s not a threat.
The puppy seems fascinated by everything, and I follow him around curiously as he explores my house.
I can’t help but smile as I watch the puppy explore. There’s something refreshing about the way he’s so completely absorbed in the moment, oblivious to anything else. I could use a little of that right now—getting lost in the present, not thinking about everything I have to deal with later.
Scout barks again, this time at a mug that is right next to the bar cart. The puppy pounces on it, knocking it over. The little clattering noise it makes is enough to make Scout start barking at it again. I laugh, shaking my head at the sight.
“You’re a fierce little thing, aren’t you?” I say, walking over to pick up the mug. Scout continues to bark at it like his high-pitched bark is making the mug acquiesce.
The puppy growls, but it’s playful as I set the mug in the sink. Scout jumps up and beats his little paws against my pant leg.
“You’re going to be trouble, I can tell. Now, how are people supposed to find lost puppies? That’s the real question. I don’t suppose people put up fliers around the neighborhood anymore. There has to be something online about this.”
I settle into a kitchen chair, keeping half an eye on Scout as I peruse the internet, trying to figure out what people are supposed to do when they’ve found a dog. The first suggested answer is taking the dog to a pound, but I don’t like that idea at all.
I look at Scout over the top of my phone. “I know what happens to puppies at the pound. I don’t need a dog right now, but I will hold onto you until something better pops up.”
Scout runs over, gazes at me adoringly as though he’s soaking up every word, then runs back toward the sunroom to continue exploring.
The next answer is to check if he’s chipped. That actually seems like a good idea, and I start making a plan for how I can do that. The problem is that it’s Sunday, and all vets except emergency vets are closed. They probably don’t need me wasting their time checking for a chip when they have dogs bleeding out.
I decide to wait until tomorrow to check for his chip.
Meanwhile, I stand up and start making a pot of coffee. My head’s still buzzing a bit from last night, and I could use the caffeine. As I wait for the coffee to brew, I glance back into the living room, where Scout is now trying to climb onto one of the chairs, but his short legs are struggling to get any kind of grip.
“You’re not going to make it up there, you know,” I call out, but the puppy is too determined to give up.
I shake my head, grabbing a mug and pouring myself some coffee.
Once I’ve taken the first few sips and I can feel the coffee working its way through my body, I set my mug down and walk back into the living room. Scout is now lying on the floor, exhausted from all the excitement. The puppy looks up at me with those big, brown eyes, and I feel something in my chest tighten.
“Guess you wore yourself out, huh?” I say softly, crouching down to pet Scout’s soft fur. The puppy leans into my touch, closing his eyes as he lets out a contented sigh.
For a moment, everything feels calm. Peaceful. It’s a rare feeling for me, and I realize just how much I’ve been missing it.
I sit down on the floor next to Scout, letting the puppy curl up in my lap. As I stroke his fur, I think about how different this morning turned out from what I expected. A part of me had dreaded getting out of bed, knowing I’d have to face the world again, but now, with this little pup by my side, everything seems a little more manageable.
Scout soon falls asleep, and he has this little snore that’s kind of cute. I don’t stop petting him as I drink my coffee and wonder what will happen if he’s not chipped and no one comes for him.