Now he holds his wife and wonders if he will ever know her again. Losing Stacy had unhinged her. For a very long time, it seemed like he would never get Alice back from the dark place she had gone. He can’t go through that again. Buddy may only be a dog, but this new creature in their lives, this object of their affections, has lightened up the days and made smoother the nights. Buddy isn’t a replacement for Stacy. What he has become, in this short time, is a willing receptacle for the flow of love that has been dammed up behind the silence in this house. Even now, the dog stands at attention, his ears turning like radar dishes, his unmatched eyes focused on them. His mouth is a little open, and his breaths are shallow, audible. Like he’s worried about them. Like he wants to say something.

Ed keeps Alice tight against his chest as he reaches out to touch the answering machine. He feels her quiver against him, so afraid of hearing that message again.

Ed feels like Michaelangelo’s God in the Sistine Chapel, one finger reaching out to change the world. He hits the delete button.

*   *   *

Buddy can’t quite figure out how the people went from all relaxed and happy, pouring kibble in the bowl for him and talking to each other, to this, this wounded sound coming from Alice, and the stiff fear-aggressive posture from Ed. He whines a little, trying to get their attention, trying to understand what’s going on. Humans are so changeable. You just can’t trust them.

Finally, the crisis seems to be over and Alice drops to the floor to pull him into her lap and embrace him so hard that Buddy almost whines. He understands then that she is sad again, and that disappoints him. Alice hasn’t been sad for a few days and he’s thought his job here was done. Buddy licks her face, tastes the salt from her eyes, and licks again. Then Alice laughs, pushing him off and letting Ed hand her back to her feet. They sit down at the table and he’s free to go eat his delayed breakfast.

The people sit in silence, facing each other. He’s not sure, but they may be touching hands. He can’t see from his low elevation; he’d have to be rude and jump up to see, but he’s not that curious about the state of their touching. Things seemed better and now this, this return to the gloom that permeated this house when he first arrived. He’s worked hard to be a good guest, and even a good pet, if that’s what they needed.