“Yes.”

“I thought you weren’t an animal person. I’ve been begging you to get a cat for ages, you always said the house was too small for a pet, and now you bring home a dog?” Nikki sits on the coffee table, staring at us accusingly. “Does he have a name? Where did you find him?”

“I call him Mr. Mutt.”

“That’s a horrible name.”

“And I found him at a Chevron…”

Mr. Mutt barks.

“…gas station. What’s up with you?” I ask the dog.

Nikki studies him. “He barked when you said Chevron.”

The pup barks again.

“Chevron?” I repeat.

And again.

“I think we settled that horrible Mr. Mutt name, right, Chevron?” Nikki asks.

“Ar-rooff!”

Nikki finally pats him. “So are we keeping him?”

“No.”

An excruciating howl rips through the room.

“Oh, I forgot,” I say. “The pup speaks English.”

“Right,” Nikki says skeptically. “So what is he doing here if he isn’t staying?”

“The plan was to drop him at Animal Heaven, but by the time I got out of jail the shelter was closed. I couldn’t leave him on the street.”

Nikki is about to pet Chevron again when she stops, hand in midair. “Wait, reverse. Jail?”

“Yeah, jail…” I tell her of my afternoon of misery.

“Aw, so now Mr. Hot Sticker even saved you from prison.”

“Richard didn’t save me from prison. He just had to be there as a witness, and used it as an excuse to hook up with a lady lawyer.”

Nikki scrunches her face. “Ouch.”

“I don’t care.”

“Of course you don’t. Just as much as we aren’t keeping the puppy.”

“Woof!”

Seven

Always Be Responsible

There’s something bulgy on my bed that’s preventing me from stretching my legs. So annoying. I ignore the nuisance for as long as I can until finally I blink my eyes open and find a set of big brown eyes fixated on me.

When Chevron notices I’m awake, he starts wagging his tail like mad. Oh, right! I still need to take him to a shelter. At five thirty in the morning, shelters must be closed, but it’s not too early to take Chevron for a run.

“Let’s see what you’re made of,” I tell him, getting up.

After putting on my running clothes and sneakers, I secure Chevron with the brand new leash I bought yesterday. The pup pants hah-hah-hah happily the entire time, his tail never sitting still. I reward him with a dog cookie and we exit the apartment.

As soon as we’re outside, Chevron stops near a streetlight to relieve himself. Oh, crap! What if he has to go number two? I’ve nothing to pick it up with. Luckily, Chevron lowers his leg and looks up at me expectantly.

“Let’s go.”

“Woof!”

We make our way to the Hudson River. I start with a slow jog to see how Chevron copes as I’m not sure how malnourished he is. From the way he devoured his dinner yesterday, I’m guessing very.