22. Madison
22
MADISON
I breathe a sigh of relief when Bigfoot and Bella walk out the door. Well, neither one of them is walking. It’s more like bounding energetically, but I don’t care how they are moving now that they aren’t my responsibility anymore.
I’ve been eating crackers and ginger ale to help settle my uneasy stomach. I need to be on my best behavior because I have two more dogs coming to my house in a couple of hours. They’ll be staying through Christmas. I can only hope that they aren’t as big as these last two.
Samson comes up and rubs his side against me like a cat. “Are you that desperate for attention? You feel like we haven’t played together because I’ve been so busy taking care of everyone else?”
Samson sticks his head under my hand like he’s trying to show me exactly how to pet him. I give him a good scratch behind the ears.
Georgie seems to sense that something is up. He cautiously comes over and sniffs at both of us. When I reach for him, he jumps back and yips .
“You are very scared of everything. You know I give the best ear scratches. You can just ask Samson.”
Samson presses his head under my hand again like he’s showing off for Georgie.
The next thing I know, the doorbell is ringing. Two hours have passed, and the other dogs are arriving. I stand up and immediately feel sick.
I don’t know what I have, but it’s a lingering virus. It just won’t seem to let me go.
I shake off my sleepiness, stretch, and head to the front door.
When I see the two medium-sized dogs, I let out a sigh of relief. Even if they behave badly, they won’t be able to pull my arm off while doing it. The owner introduces herself and her two dogs—Tigger and Piglet.
I absentmindedly pet them as I listen to her instructions. As soon as she is gone, I let the two begin exploring the space, snapping a couple of pictures.
I smile as I look at the pictures. I’m halfway through the process of opening my messages and sending them to Ethan when I realize what I’m doing. Should I really send him dog pictures?
He’s probably working. He doesn’t want that sort of thing alerting his phone in the middle of his shift.
But…after a moment’s consideration, I send the pictures anyway, titling them “Winnie the Pooh’s best friends.”
Ethan responds pretty quickly. Oh, no. These two look like trouble.
No one can be as much trouble as the last two.
Don’t say that. Have you taken them outside yet?
No way. It’s too cold to spend much time outside today.
Ethan doesn’t respond for a moment, so I scroll to my other chain of messages. I have three missed notifications. The three messages are all from Aurora.
Another party prep night tonight.
I’ve made homemade cookies, so bring other desserts to go with.
Please bring crepe paper.
I love my friends. I really do, but I’m feeling so sickish right now that I don’t think I’d be able to have a good time with them.
I type out my “Can’t. Sorry to miss it” text as carefully as I can, rereading it several times before sending it. I am still feeling terrible. Is there anything I can do to help from home?
Zoe responds first, wishing me good health. She also gives me a link to a tea that has helped her fight viruses by loading up on vitamin C.
Aurora responds next. You’re going to miss AGAIN?
I feel a stab of guilt hit me. I’m usually at any and all meetings, but I just can’t this time. I don’t feel well, and I want to be here when Ethan comes to help me with the dogs.
Maybe it’s dumb, but I look forward to every second I get to experience with him.
When Ethan arrives after work, he sits down on the other end of the couch. I extend my legs out toward him while he bends down to interact with Tigger and Piglet. “They are cute, huh?”
“Not bad. Definitely not as strong as those others. Do you want to take everyone over to my yard now?”
I nod and start gathering leashes, trying to connect the right leash to the right dog. They all crowd around me, eager to go out. When I clip a leash to Georgie, Piglet starts whining, sure he’s going to be left out.
“I’ve got him,” Ethan volunteers .
Soon, we have them all hooked up, and we trek over to his backyard. The dogs joyously run free once we unhook their leashes. I check the gate twice to make sure no one can get out.
“Do you think Samson will be lonely after Christmas?” Ethan asks.
“After Christmas? Why?”
“Well, won’t most people be done traveling by then?”
I think about the bookings I have. “I think I have two New Year’s bookings. But yeah, I expect things will slow down a lot in January. Why? Are you trying to get out of your duties?”
It suddenly hits me what this really means. If I don’t have any more dogs, then Ethan won’t have a reason to come see me anymore. Does that mean he won’t come over as often?
“The look on your face says not good things. What are you thinking about?”
Part of me has felt like I can be more open with Ethan recently, but part of me feels like I can’t trust him. He may like spending time with me, but would he really pick me over his daughter if it came down to it?
I don’t know if I’m willing to find out.
Finally, I figure out the best way to answer his question.
“Just all the work ahead of me. One of the dogs is a Dalmatian. Those are huge. I hope he listens better than Bigfoot and Bella.”
“Dalmatian? You’ll be saved in case of a fire.”
“Um, what?”
“Oh, come on, didn’t you ever watch that show as a kid with the firehouse dog? It was a Dalmatian. It would go along with the firemen and go inside and sniff out anyone still in there. I’ll never forget the scene where it saved a five-year-old who was too scared to say anything.”
I laugh. “Well, I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’ve never heard of that.”
And then, I realize why it is. Ethan grew up in a different generation from me. The shows he watched as a kid would have been old news by the time I came along. But I don’t want to mention why I’ve never heard of this mysterious “firedog” show.
Instead, I just nod and scratch Georgie’s head when he comes up to check on me.
It gets me thinking again. Ethan and I are vastly different. We don’t have much in common as far as childhoods. What is really keeping us together?
Samson comes up and shows me a stick he found. I look all around the yard, trying to determine where he got it from. But he crouches, ready to take off as soon as I show any interest in playing with him.
“All right, boy, we can play some fetch.”
I toss the stick, and Samson takes off.
Ethan grins in our direction. “What made you decide to get a dog?”
“So, I could have a dog-sitting business, of course. It’s my dream job.” I infuse enthusiasm into my words. I can’t wait until I never have to do this again. It’s exhausting having dogs who may or may not be well-behaved in my house.
“That was almost convincing.”
“I mean, I do love dogs. Samson and I are tight…”
“But you don’t want to do this forever.”
“No, I mean… I’ve been lucky so far. I haven’t had any mean dogs. None of them have tried to bite each other yet. But I’m waiting for the day when there is some sort of dog scuffle. ”
“True. You’ve had a lot of energetic but mannered dogs.”
“That’s one way to look at it.”
I reach down to grab the stick that Samson has brought back, and my hand brushes Ethan’s. An urge inside me encourages me to grab it.
But I don’t follow through. I have no idea what I’m doing, but I know that encouraging Ethan by making him think we have something other than sex is not the right answer. No, I need to guard my heart against him. He may make me feel good, but I know what kind of person he is. He doesn’t really care about me.