Chapter 63
Chapter Sixty-Three
WYATT
“I think it came from over here.”
I peer around the side, and sure enough, there’s a little dog sniffing my tire. It’s probably ten pounds and the exact color of rainwater and mud mixed together. I look back to Nash, but she’s already rounded the corner calling to the dog. I grab her wrist to stop her. “It could be rabid.”
“It looks lost.”
There’s no stopping Nash from saving this dog, I know. She’s always had a soft spot for animals, but with volleyball, she hasn’t ever had a chance at getting a pet of her own. “Just be careful,” I say, releasing my grip on her arm.
I watch as she crouches down and approaches the dog slowly.
It’s a little hesitant at first, but she coos at it, and it eventually steps up to sniff her outstretched hand.
She strokes its head gently. “I’m going to pick him up.
” I watch as she moves her hands under the little dog’s chest and lifts it into her arms. “That’s a good boy,” she murmurs. “I think it’s a boy, at least.”
She stands and turns to me, and when her eyes meet mine, I about keel over at the softness and care I see in them. Her face is warm as she takes in the dog’s matted fur. The dog seems to relax in her hold like he’s been wandering a long time and is finally able to rest under her care.
I know the feeling.
“We should walk around with him and see if any neighbors recognize him or know the owners,” I say. I can see Nash’s attachment forming to this dog in real time, but I have to make sure we do our due diligence so she doesn’t get her heart broken when she has to give him back.
Colin is still here, talking to John, so I call to him, “We found a dog. We’re going to try and look for his owners. We’ll see you at your house later.”
“See you then,” he says and goes back to his conversation.
We head in the direction we were originally going to walk in. Anytime we pass someone, we show them the dog and ask if they know him. Again and again the people of the neighborhood tell us no.
The walk is not a pretty one. The streets are full of trash from the flooded houses waiting to be picked up.
Yards are full of people’s undamaged property covered in bedsheets.
Some have ‘we will defend’ spray painted on cardboard signs or on the sheet itself.
Others have signs that say ‘do not take’.
It’s crazy and a bit disturbing to see. Not only seeing what should be inside houses out here on the front lawn, but the idea that there might be altercations over property.
The sun is quickly setting over the trees, and with the power still out there won’t be any streetlights.
I suddenly feel the size of this city, the amount of strangers who live here pressing in on me.
“We should head back. It’s getting late. ”
“But we didn’t find his owner.”
“Tonight we can give him a bath and some food. Tomorrow we can take him by the vet and get him scanned for a microchip.”
“Come on, Arthur. Let’s get you something to drink.”
“Arthur?”
“Yeah, after the hurricane.” She smiles at her own cleverness, and I have to admit, I’m basking in it too.
I eye Arthur, who looks perfectly content being carried around in Nash’s arms. Lucky bastard.
Like he knows we won’t take him to the pound.
What do they call it when you just find an animal and they decide they’re yours?
The animal distribution system. I think it’s mostly cats, but dogs aren’t unheard of.
I put my hand on her lower back to guide her back in the direction we came.
I’m surprised to find how far we’ve walked.
It hits me just a little ways back how nice it is.
To be out for a walk with Nash and a puppy.
Maybe it won’t be this puppy if he belongs to someone else, but in the future, it could be a different dog.
Maybe during the two months we both have off we could walk down the street to the coffee shop by my house on Sunday mornings to get a latte and a pastry.
Us holding hands and taking turns walking the dog.
I don’t have any problem being a big man walking a little dog, if that’s what she wants.