I thought, hey, why don’t I bring some out to my puppy friend. Can that be you, good boy?”
The tail thumped again.
Feeling encouraged, Amy set down the flashlight, then reached out and touched the dog’s head.
He snapped at her, catching her fingers. They both yelped in surprise, and she fell backward in the snow. The peanut-butter spoon fell, and Amy clutched her hand tightly. It stung, but he hadn’t broken the skin. Even now, as she watched, the blind dog’s head bobbed and he sniffed the snow, looking for the spoon. He was still hungry, just scared. And here she was, the dummy that tried to touch a blind, scared dog. Of course he snapped at her.
“You’re coming inside with me,” she told him. “I have a plan.” Amy gently tossed the spoon closer to him, and when he began to lick it hungrily, she crept back toward the house and grabbed her only blanket. Mental note: she needed more linens. Maybe she’d look for some at estate sales this weekend. For now, her scared dog friend needed it more than she did. She grabbed the jar of peanut butter, too, and took it with her as she went outside. The dog was still there, licking at the spoon, and before she could lose her courage, she marched up to him and set the jar of peanut butter down and opened it under his nose. When it distracted him, she wrapped him in the blanket and picked him up.
He snapped at her. She expected that, because he was scared. And even though he twisted and yelped and scratched at her arms, Amy made soothing sounds and carried him inside despite everything. When she was finally in the house, she set him down and began to rub him with the blanket. “It’s okay,” she promised him in a soft voice. “It’s warm in here and no one will hurt you.”
He hunched his shoulders and slunk over to a corner, where he huddled, shivering. She draped the blanket over him, then went outside and retrieved her flashlight and peanut butter. By the time she sat down, she was wiped and smelled like wet dog. Had she eaten? Did she care? She was exhausted, but she might as well put something in her stomach before she figured out what to do with her new friend. Maybe a neighbor was missing his buddy. She’d look online after she had something in her growling stomach.
The moment she got the ramen out of the microwave, though, the dog started sniffing and looking interested, so she made another bowl and then sat near him on the floor while they both ate.
“I don’t suppose you know how to fix ceilings, do you?” Amy murmured between forkfuls of noodles. “Because I could use a guy.”
The dog ate messily and didn’t answer. He was clearly starving, though; that much was obvious. By the time he licked the bowl clean, half the broth was on the floor and he was still hungrily looking for more, so she gave him hers. Under all that matted fur, she’d bet he was pitifully thin. If someone was missing their dog, they’d been missing him for a few days now.
All right, her new buddy would stay with her tonight, and if she couldn’t find a missing dog description of him on the neighborhood forums, she’d get him some dog food and some dog shampoo—they made that sort of thing, didn’t they? And she’d have herself a new roommate.
Her new town and new life seemed a little less lonely now. Amy looked around the bare house, at the secondhand love seat with the ugliest floral pattern ever and the broken CRT television in the corner that weighed more than she did. Her house was as bare as her social calendar, but she was determined to change that.
“Isn’t that right, Donner?” She smiled at the dog. He wasn’t a Rudolph or a Vixen, but maybe he could be a Donner. It was just Christmasy enough, she decided.
She and Donner were going to have a great holiday, Amy decided.
CHAPTER THREE
She woke up to Donner licking her face, which made her sputter and realize that she’d slept on the floor . . . and she’d overslept for work. After walking and feeding Donner using rope for a leash, Amy raced out of the house with her hair in a bun and her blouse unironed—luckily she could throw a cardigan over it and complain she was cold. The day breezed