The Promise - By Danielle Steel Page 0,38
had told her that he was making her his “ideal.” It was an uncomfortable feeling, but still, she liked that smile. She slipped the camera over her shoulder and took the elevator downstairs.
It was a crisp breezy evening, with no fog—she knew it would be a good night for taking pictures— and she headed slowly down toward the wharf. The streets were mostly deserted. Everyone was recovering from Christmas dinner, recuperating in easy chairs and on couches, or snoring softly in front of the TV. The vision she created in her own head made Nancy smile, and then suddenly she tripped, making a little shrieking noise as she stumbled. Peter had warned her to be careful of falling. She couldn't indulge yet in any active sports because of that danger, and now she'd almost fallen on the street. Her arms had gone out to save her and she had regained her balance before hitting the pavement. And then she realized that she wasn't the only one who had shrieked. She had stumbled over a small shaggy dog, who looked greatly offended. Now he sat down, waved a paw at Nancy, and yipped. He was a tangled little fur ball of beige and brown. He stared at her and barked again.
“Okay, okay. I'm sorry. You scared me, too, you know.” She bent to pat him and he wagged his tail and barked once more. He was a comical little dog, barely older than a puppy. She was sorry she had nothing to give him to eat. He looked hungry. She patted him again, smiled, and stood up, grateful that she hadn't dropped her camera. He barked at her again and she grinned. “Okay. Bye-bye.” She started to walk away, but he immediately followed, trotting along at her side until she stopped and looked down at him again.
“Now listen you, go on home. Go on …” But each time she took a step, he did, too, and when she stopped he sat down, waiting happily for her to go on. She stood there and laughed at him. He was really a ridiculous little dog, but such a cute one. She stopped down to pat him again and felt his neck for a collar, but there was none. A totally naked dog. And then suddenly, in amusement, she decided to snap some pictures of him. He proved to be a natural, prancing, posing, waving, and having a marvelous time. Nancy had made a new friend, and at the end of half an hour he still showed no sign of deserting her. “All right, you, come on.” So off they went, to the wharf, where she shot pictures of crab stalls and shrimp vendors, tourists and drunken Santa Clauses, boats and birds and a few more of the dog. She had a good time, and never succeeded in losing her friend. He remained at her side until at last she stopped for coffee. She had gotten quite good at going into coffee shops and fast food places, lowering her head so she concealed most of her face beneath her hat, and ordering whatever she wanted. Now she even had a smile to go with the thank you, and it wasn't as hard to pull off as she once had thought. This time she ordered black coffee for herself, and a hamburger for the dog. She put the red paper plate on the sidewalk next to him, and he gobbled it up and then barked his thanks.
“Does that mean thank you, or more?” He barked again and she laughed, and someone stopped to pat him and ask his name. “I don't know. He just adopted me.”
“Did you report him?”
“I guess I should.” The man told her how and she thanked him. She would call from her apartment if the dog stuck with her that far. And he did. He stopped at the door of her building as though he lived there, too. So she took him upstairs and called the ASPCA, but no one had reported losing a dog that looked like him, and they suggested she either resign herself to having a new dog, or drop him off at the shelter and have him put to sleep. She was outraged at the thought and put a protective arm around him as they sat side by side on the floor. “You look a mess, you know, kid. How about a bath?” He wagged tongue and tail simultaneously, and she scooped him up in her arms