“Maybe . . . I don’t want to get into that. I can’t honestly say how much longer Spike’s got. This seems better than calling you one day with bad news and have you not prepared.”

“Thanks,” I said. “I mean it.”

“If you’d like, you can come see him. Or I can bring him over sometime.” Pause. “If Allison doesn’t mind.”

“Allison wouldn’t mind.”

“No, she’s sweet.”

“How are you doing?” I said.

“Not great.” A beat. “Tim and I are over.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s for the best,” she said. “But this really isn’t about that, it’s about Spike, so if you do want to see him . . .”

“I’d like to if you think it would be helpful for him. Last time I dropped by he was pretty eager to have you to himself.”

“That was ages ago, Alex. He’s really not the same dog. And deep down he loves you. I think competing with you for my attention gave him a reason to get up in the morning. The challenge of another alpha male.”

“That and food,” I said.

“I wish he still stuffed his face. Now I have to coax him . . . the funny thing is, he never paid much attention to Tim one way or the other . . . no hostility, just ignored him. Anyway . . .”

“I’ll get by soon,” I said. “Where are you living?”

“Same place,” she said. “In the physical sense. Bye, Alex. Be well.”

* * *

Eeny meeny miny mo made it canned soup. Chicken noodle. The decision shouldn’t have taken fifteen minutes. I was opening the can when the phone rang.

Allison said, “Hi, it’s me. Got a problem.”

“Busy? I was thinking we could get together, but tomorrow’s fine.”

“We have to get together,” she said. “Now. That’s the problem.”

* * *

I was at her waiting room twenty minutes later. The space was empty and softly lit. I pushed the red button next to the sign that said Dr. Gwynn and she emerged.

No hug, no kiss, no smile— and I knew why. Her hair was tied up and the day had eaten most of her makeup. She ushered me to the small side office usually occupied by her assistant.

Perching on the edge of the desk, she twisted a gold bracelet. “She says she’s ready.”

“Your patient,” I said. “I still can’t believe it.”

“Believe it,” she said. “Five months of therapy.”

“Can you tell me how she came to you?”

“I can tell you everything,” she said. “She gave me carte blanche. Not that I’ll use it, because in her present state she can’t be trusted to make optimal decisions.”

“I’m sorry, Ali— ”