Axel’s hot dog breath made me roll the window down a few inches. And that was some sort of a cue for him because he scrambled to his feet and put his head on my shoulder so he could sniff the air rushing in.

“I’m sorry. He loves car rides, only after he’s pulled a Shawshank Redemption, of course.” Taylor leaned closer to me and tried to force Axel’s head back. He was still gnawing on the tennis ball I had in the car. I was pretty sure it belonged to him now anyway.

“He’s fine. I felt like this shirt was too dry anyway.” I headed to the next turn because that would take me on a shortcut to Taylor’s driveway. That was a plus and a curse of being a licensed driver in a big family. I was considered part of the transportation solution for all the different social activities any of my younger siblings participated in, so I knew where everyone lived, but I had to visit those places a lot.

“It looks like he rolled in some burrs.” I tried picking a few off his paw. They stuck to me and I had to shake my hand to get them to release.

“Oh, I hate those things. Rocket’s fur eats them. And then Rocket absolutely hates to get them removed. The only people in my house that have the patience to get them out are my mom, Teddi, and me.”

I made a few turns and signaled to pull down her driveway. It occurred to me that I had never seen Taylor’s house in all the years we knew her. She was always ready at the driveway’s end. That’s part of why she was the favorite of my sister’s friends. She said thank you and respected the time table I was usually on.

When I glanced over at her, I saw her tense up. She grasped the door handle like I was going off a cliff.

“You good? This okay?” I never wanted to make her uncomfortable. I just assumed that door-to-door service for Axel made the most sense.

“I’m good. And he won’t walk now that he’s tired. He weighs over a hundred pounds, so I couldn’t carry him.” She put a finger to her mouth and chewed on her nail.

“Okay.” I slowed down. I knew Taylor had a younger sister, though I never met her before.

We passed a small pond and a few ramshackle sheds before the driveway ended.

“Sorry,” Taylor offered. I gave her a look that I hoped was filled with nonchalance and lack of judgment.

Taylor’s house was a hellhole. The stuff gathered around the property was the most random assortment of shit I’d ever seen in one place. This had to be a hoarder situation. It was a mess of rusted metal and furniture and appliances outside.