“Here,” I said. I put a hand out. Dale stared at the hand. I waited. Our long shadows in the morning sun were sentient on the grass before us.

Dale put his hand, palm up, on mine. I tipped some mixture onto his palm. He crouched, and the birds flocked to his hand, long necks shivering with excitement, ducking and pecking at the mixture in turn, great gobbling beakfuls.

I thought I heard Dale laugh.

Dear Diary,

I walked to Penny’s front door with the dog in my arms like a fairy-tale peasant come to put an offering before the queen. I remember the feel of her, warm and struggling against my chest, a young dog who just wanted to explore the new sights and smells of the front of the house. I thought she’d have plenty of time to do that. I thought I was bringing her to where she’d belonged all her small and miserable life, the pencil drawing of the dog made real as though by magic.

Penny’s mother, Andrea, opened the door, and it all went wrong in a matter of seconds.

“I live next door,” I explained after the initial smiling pleasantries, the white dog licking my ear. “I know this is a bit weird but my … my sister owns this dog here, Princess, and she’s taken off to England with her husband. I know your daughter—Penny, is it?—I know she’s wanted a dog for a while now, so—”

“I’m sorry.” Andrea shook her head once like she was struggling to understand. Her expectations of what I’d come to the door for turning, flipping. “What’s going on? Your sister…”

“My sister’s abandoned this dog.” I laughed, and knew it sounded forced. Tried to reel it back. “She’s kind of dumped it on me. She’s in England now. She went with her boyfriend. Her husband.”

“Is she coming back?”

“No.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t understand how I can help.”

“Well, I know your daughter has wanted a dog.”

“How do you know my daughter?” Andrea pulled back, her mouth hardening. This wasn’t going the way I’d planned. I could feel the muscles in my neck and shoulders pulling tighter and tighter. I dropped the dog at my feet, maybe too hard.

“We talk over the fence,” I said, pointed to the back of the house. “I’m Kevin. Your next-door neighbor.”

“Well, Kevin, I don’t know how I can help.” Andrea glanced down at Princess, the cold bitch eyes of a woman without a soul. “We can’t have a dog here. I work. There’d be no one to take care of it during the day. And Penny’s not old enough—”

“Penny is very responsible,” I snapped. “She’s a very mature person.”

“That may be,” Andrea said carefully, eyeing me with the stillness and caution a person reserves for a madman on the street. “But Penny is not having a dog. Not this dog. Not any dog. If your irresponsible sister has dropped this animal on you and gone away, I suggest you keep it yourself or you take it to the pound.”

Princess was straining on her lead, trying to sniff the flowering bushes to the side of the doorway. I yanked her back to my feet. The dog yelped. Andrea took a step back in the doorway, holding on to the jamb.

“Don’t you think it’s important,” I said slowly, “to listen to what Penny wants? She wants a dog. This is the perfect dog for her. It’s not hard to care for a dog. You feed it. You pick up its shit. It’ll bring Penny untold fucking joy. What kind of a mother are you?”

Andrea stiffened. I’d gone too far. I felt sweat breaking out on my temples. I needed to rescue the situation before it got out of control. Before I got out of control.

“I’m sorry.” I wiped the sweat on the collar of my shirt. “I’m really sorry. I just—”

“Take the dog to the pound,” Andrea said. “And don’t talk to my child anymore.”

She slammed the door in my face.