Nenee swears as something falls into the street. She shoves it back in and slams the door shut. Her face is red and sweaty when she turns back to me. “There. Done.”

I stand up, Splints at my side, and walk to the back of the car. Lucy and Oscar are standing on the footpath, looking solemn.

Nenee looks at Splinter. “You’d better take him back to the house now.” She nods toward Lucy and Oscar’s.

“What?” My stomach drops away, the sensation making me slightly dizzy.

“He’s staying here, isn’t he?”

I mustn’t be hearing right. “What?”

“I thought the dog was staying here?” She glances at Lucy in confusion. Oscar’s beaming from ear to ear, while trying not to. Lucy catches my look, turns him around and walks him back into the house.

I sit down on the curb.

“Come on, up you pop! We’d better get going. We want to be home before it gets dark.”

Splinter sits next to me. Neither of us look at her.

“Rae? Come on, it’s time to go.”

“I’m not leaving without Splinter.”

Lucy’s back; she squats next to me and puts her hand on my knee. “Rae, he still needs his stitches out and some follow-up care. I thought we’d take him to the vet for you. You can come and get him when you’re all settled.”

I turn my head away and wrap my arm more tightly around Splinter’s shoulders, his cone digging into my cheek.

“Rae, we’re just trying to make this as easy as possible. For everyone.”

“For her, you mean.”

I glare at Nenee.

“Rae—” But Nenee waves Lucy away.

When she’s moved back toward her house Nenee starts to speak. “Rae, sweetheart.” She uses that fake-reasonable voice adults use when they’re pretending to negotiate. “Be sensible. My house isn’t set up for a dog, certainly not for a dog with special needs.”

“He doesn’t have special needs. The vet said when he’s adjusted to three legs he’ll be fine. He just has to adjust.”

“Exactly.” She doubles down on the tone. “He needs some time to adjust. It’s much better for him to do that here, with his vet nearby and in more familiar surroundings.”

“You’re transparent.” I spit the word at her.

She steps back slightly. “What?”

“You’re pretending to be reasonable to make me the difficult one, when the truth is you just don’t want him.”

I watch her feet step closer again. “No, I just want what’s best—”

“For you. Yes. I get it.”

“No.” Her toes scrunch up in her shoes.

“Yes. What’s best for him is to be with me. I’m his familiar surroundings. Not their house.” I point to where Lucy’s standing, pretending not to listen. “He barely knows their house. He needs to be with me.”