“My Billy!”
I ignored Corinne, which was hard because she was doing somersaults in the air. Lovely. Add another skill to her floating repertoire. “Is he sick? What’s wrong with him?”
“Actually he seems depressed. He won’t eat.”
Looking around the doggy jail, it wasn’t too hard to figure. “Could I see him? Maybe he just doesn’t like it here.”
I followed her back out of the hellish bunker. The moment the heavy door clanged shut behind me was a blessed relief on my eardrums. Pure bliss.
The infirmary turned out to be a separate building. It was much quieter and less jail-like. More like a vet’s office. In the back of one of the cages, was a fawn-colored lump.
“Does it have a name?”
“No. Someone left him here in a box. No note or anything.”
“Billy,” Corinne shouted, somersaulting again. “Billy!”
The lump stirred and lifted his head.
“Hi, dog. Um. Billy?” He cocked his head and wagged a curly little pigtail uncertainly.
“I think he likes you,” the woman said. “Talk to him.”
“Hi, Billy,” I said, feeling stupid talking to a dog. “Come on over and see me.” He looked at me. His tail wagged hesitantly. “Can I take him out?” I asked the woman.
Billy spotted Corinne’s ghost. He could indeed see her. I know this because he suddenly leapt to his feet and barked.
“I’ll take him,” I said.
In retrospect, I should have tried to adopt an orphan from Africa. It would have been far simpler. Who knew there was so much paperwork involved in picking out a dog? A dog, for crying out loud.
I practically had to sign my life away. They wanted references and background info and my own freaking pedigree. You’d think they would be glad to unload an animal, but it was worse than wedding vows. I promised to feed him and water him and walk him and vaccinate him until death do us part. Sheesh.
A whole hour’s worth of paperwork and interrogation later, I was the proud owner of one pug. I’d had to purchase a leash and collar there since I hadn’t had the foresight to bring my own, which had shocked the woman. I couldn’t explain that I’d had no idea when I left the house this morning such things would be necessary.
Billy trotted along on the leash, inspecting every pant cuff and curb we passed, lifting a leg to water the ones he found appealing. He had a square body and a massive, comical head. His smushed-up face was black with the biggest, popped-out eyes I’d ever seen on something that wasn’t a squeeze toy. His ears were little velvety flaps.
I gave him a pat. I admit that the ears were quite soft. Maybe a dog wasn’t so bad. He licked my hand frantically. His oversized tongue barely fit into his mouth; mostly it lolled out the side. I wiped my hand on my pants.
Billy seemed thrilled to be on the leash and kept looking up at me like now what? Truthfully, I had no idea. How would I get him home? He was too big to hide in my purse like a Hollywood Chihuahua, and I couldn’t just tuck him under my arm like the old ladies in furs shopping down Hillman Street. He was small enough to be no protection from rapists and muggers, but too big to sneak onto the train. I gave up and called Harry, who grumped and complained and then snickered in disbelief at the idea of me with a dog.
“Just come get me,” I snapped.
It was bitter cold outside the terminal, but I couldn’t go inside anywhere with Billy. Dogs are extremely inconvenient. As I waited, Billy sat there happily blinking. Corinne cooed and baby-talked him. Blech. I would never do such a thing. His curly pigtail wagged in appreciation.
I realized that I had no food and no place to keep a dog that didn’t have thick, soft carpeting just begging to be peed on. I was shivering and pissed by the time Harry finally pulled up in a long white hearse.
“You’re going to ride in that?” Corinne’s eyes were wide.
“Welcome to the family business.” I scooped Billy up. He was surprisingly heavy. “This dog needs a diet,” I said, climbing into the passenger seat.
“No, he doesn’t. He’s perfect,” Corinne said.
“Looks like a ham hock with legs,” Harry said. “What possessed you to get a dog? Shouldn’t you be at work?”
“Don’t ask,” I said. “Just drive. I’ve got to stash this...I mean, I need to take my new darling home. Unless...I’ll bet you’ve always wanted a doggy.”
“Fat chance. I don’t know why you got the damn thing, but I sure don’t want it. I can’t keep a plant alive. And it’ll cramp my dating style.” He put the car in gear and jolted forward into traffic with barely a glance. Indignant horns sounded behind us.
“I thought you were so lonely and unloved.”
“Met a girl last night at a club.” He winked. “Turns out her roommate is even cuter. They think I’m adorable.”
“Lucky you.” I met a bunch of old ghosts playing cards and killing each other. Then I promised Death to try and help solve a murder.
Billy made little snorking noises with his nose, and he drooled on my leg. He stood with his paws braced on the window. I was glad someone enjoyed the ride. I closed my eyes as the hearse weaved in and out of traffic like Harry was playing Grand Theft Auto.
* * * *
I’m not allowed pets at my apartment, but a furtive look around assured me that the place was deserted. I carried Billy in and deposited him on the floor. He immediately ran the perimeter, sniffing everything and making horrible snuffling and wheezing noises. Snork!
“Does he always sound like that?” I asked.
“It’s something pugs do,” Corinne said. “Isn’t it cute? Aunt Susie breeds pugs, you know. She gave me Billy when I moved here so I wouldn’t be too lonely for home.”
I found the pug’s phlegmy noises less than charming, but I was in too deep now. Billy seemed excessively interested in my sofa.
“Oh no, you don’t!” I nabbed him just as he started to hike his leg. Everywhere I looked in my apartment, I saw lovely things waiting to be destroyed.
Over Corinne's objections, I put Billy in the bathroom and sacrificed a pillow for him to lie on. “Don’t pee on it,” I instructed him. “It’s your bed.”
Afraid to check my watch, I trudged back down to the DART station for the second time that day, wondering if I still had a job. Being a secretary at a successful law firm pays well, and I have gotten very accustomed to my creature comforts. The other secretaries aren’t bad to work with and we go out once a week, sort of a ladies night out, but in a more genteel, fine wine-and-dine sort of way than Harry’s wild nights. My apartment isn’t cheap, either. It’s centrally located near good shopping and restaurants.
But my boss. Ginger “Cruella” Deville is the most self-absorbed, impossibly bitchy boss I’ve ever had. I had the stomach flu last year and missed two days. She called me eight times.
My head was down, braced against the cold. As I withdrew my DART pass, I saw it: something large hunched next to the ticket scanner. It had to be eight feet tall and hairless. The amorphous shape reminded me of a slug. Its head raised, sniffing the air. It turned and looked at me. Its malevolent red eyes caused my heart to race. I knew I was looking on pure evil.
Its lips drew back in a snarl, and it unleashed a frightful howl, then flew right at me. I wanted to run, but I froze. My eyes closed, and my purse slid from my numb fingers. I felt the thing pass me like a cold chill stinking of wet dogs and rotten eggs.
An