The Dog Year by Ann Wertz Garvin Page B

long and ragged, changed from mud colored to a pale seashell pink. Lucy pulled several dish towels out of the drawer. When she had finished drying her, she said, “Now let’s get you something to drink.”
    Lucy filled a bowl and set it down near the back door, then mopped up the water from the bath. After collecting the towels and placing them in the laundry room, she turned, searching for the dog. “Here, girl,” she called. She followed the wet footprints out of the kitchen, down the hall, and into her makeshift first-floor bedroom. There, in a doggie circle on her bedspread lay the damp bundle of brown and white fur, burrowed into Lucy’s powder-blue robe. Her snoring had a slight whistle at the end of each breath.
    Ever since Richard’s death, Lucy had been unsure of what to do in her own house. It was a feeling she’d gotten used to. But this time, there was another being to accommodate. A being that she found she didn’t want to disturb.
    She noticed the blinking message light on her phone, but ignored it and crawled into bed next to the little animal. She reached out a tentative hand and rested it on the dog’s paw. The dog articulated a very clear, almost human
woof
, and just before Lucy closed her eyes she saw the outraged face of her cat, glaring at her from her bureau. The righteously indignant jut of her tail broadcasted her disapproval, and Lucy mouthed, “Oh relax, Mrs. Bobo. Go lick your privates.”

10
Smoke and Mirrors
    W hen Lucy woke from her nap, it was dusk. A wonderful smell floated in the room: bacon. She rubbed her eyes and wrapped herself in a shawl. She called out, “Charles?”
    As she padded into the kitchen, her brother pushed an omelet onto a flowered plate. “Happy Halloween.”
    â€œDo I need to change the locks?”
    â€œI guess I would if you don’t want Meals on Wheels wandering in and cooking you a gourmet meal while providing sparkling, low-conflict conversation.” Charles raised his eyebrows and said, “I didn’t bring this dog with me, but she seems to know her way around. She said I could stay.”
    Lucy knelt to pet the soft, downy animal. “She got her ass stuck in a gate,” she told her brother. “That’s how we met. I gave her a bath.”
    â€œAre you keeping her?”
    â€œNo. I’ll try to find out where she lives. Put posters up or something.”
    â€œSo Stewart from frozen foods just needed to get his ass caught in your gate and he would have gotten inside?”
    Lucy looked up. “Huh?”
    Charles gestured toward the phone. “He called while you were sleeping.”
    â€œOh. Ugh. What did he say?”
    â€œListen for yourself,” he said.
    The answering machine registered two hang-ups, followed by Stewart’s voice. “Hi, Dr. Peterman. Um, Lucy. This is Stewart. From frozen foods? Um. Sorry I missed you the other night. I always do that. Come on too strong, I mean. I—I hope you’ll forgive me for putting you on the spot.” There was a pause and Stewart went on. “Please don’t feel bad.” There was another pause. “See you in the frozen foods. No harm, no growl, as they say in football.”
    Charles grimaced at Lucy. “No harm, no growl?”
    â€œHe’s got a real way with words.” Lucy’s face fell. “I am the social equivalent of a chronic dieter. I vow to do better, dream of the perfect friendship, but I’m unable to muster the hyper-vigilance needed to put down the sabotaging behavior and reach out for help.”
    â€œYep.”
    â€œI need to go to People Anonymous. ‘Hello, my name is Lucy and I suck at interpersonal relationships. It has been two years since my last dinner with someone not related to me.’”
    â€œAnd Stew was that chance?”
    â€œHe was a start, I guess.” Lucy rubbed her eyes, “You know, once, when I was flying somewhere to