Startled by the remark, I lower my gaze. The pup has followed me inside.

“This is not my dog. Actually, I wanted to ask you if you knew who he belonged to.”

“Are you sure it ain’t yours?” The man looks suspiciously at my feet where the puppy has stopped next to me, sitting down as if trained to do so.

“Yes. I was filling the tank, and he came out of nowhere.”

“Well, if it ain’t yours, I’ll have to call pest control.”

“Pest control? He’s no pest he’s just an abandoned puppy.”

“Sorry, but I can’t have no stray dogs in my station.”

“I’m sure there’s a better way to solve the problem.”

“If you’re so worried about the fur ball, why don’t you take it?”

“I can’t keep a dog.”

This statement earns me a desperate, pleading howl from the little mutt.

“What?” I lower my gaze to him again. “You speak English?”

I get a subdued bark as a reply.

“Listen, miss, if you ain’t taking the dog, I’m calling pest control or animal control or whatever you like to call it.”

“All right, all right,” I say impulsively. “Tell me how much it is for the gas, and I’ll deal with the puppy.”

“Thirty-nine dollars.”

I give him my card. “Wait. Do you sell garbage bags?”

“Third aisle behind you.”

I grab an eighty pack of perfumed ones, pay, and exit. Mr. Mutt walks at my heel again.

Back to the car, I kneel down next to the puppy.

“Just to be clear, this is a temporary arrangement,” I tell him. I swear the dog smiles at me. “There’s no way I can keep you in my tiny Manhattan apartment. Understood?”

I get two enthusiastic barks back.

I open the trunk, remove the security shade cover, and line the inside and the rear of the backseats with garbage bags.

“All right.” I pat the bumper twice. “Up.”

Mr. Mutt gives me another excited bark and jumps in.

“Please be good while I figure out where to take you.”

He starts whining again.

Since my skirt is still soaked in gasoline, I line the driver seat with another garbage bag and search for a dog shelter on my phone. There’s one not too far from my apartment. I copy the address in the map app and pull out of the gas station.

Less than a mile from the shelter, blue and red lights appear in the rearview mirror. The police must be trying to pull someone over. I keep driving, being extra careful to avoid any infraction, but the flashing lights stay with me. I check the left lane for suspicious-looking cars, but it’s empty.

Those flashing lights are making me irrationally nervous, so I turn right even if the navigator is telling me to go straight. But I’m out of luck, the police car turns right after me, and not just that, they flash their headlights twice and turn on the siren.

Crap, they were following me. I pull over and watch the side view mirror as a police officer ominously approaches.