Pia tilted her head as she examined the dog more closely. “It’s a he, not an it.” She went to the bed where a crocheted throw lay folded at the foot. “This will smell like home. Hopefully that will be a comfort.” Shaking it out, she knelt to wrap it around the sleeping dog.

“Right.” He pulled out his phone. “I’ll call animal control.”

Pia rose to her feet and turned to face him. “Dragos Cuelebre, you’ll do no such thing.”

He paused with his phone halfway to his ear. “I won’t?”

“We’re taking him home with us.”

An avalanche of reasons for why they shouldn’t piled up in his mind. He said, “Pia—.”

Raising her chin, she held up a stiffened finger. “I don’t want to hear anything you have to say. This dog was loved by a good woman who was kind to our son. She’s dead now, and you can keep him from pining to death and make him eat. We’re taking him home tonight.”

She had called him by his full name, and that stiffened finger meant business. Apparently, now was not the time to bring up the sex and the sleeping, and the indulgent breakfast that had been on his agenda before crossing over to Rhyacia.

Biting the insides of his cheeks, he kept his tone mild. “I see.”

She knelt again to wrap the sleeping dog in the throw. “I’m so angry for not thinking of this sooner. The poor thing didn’t have to go through the last three days.”

“Go easy on yourself. It’s not like you were close friends with Miss Creedy,” he felt compelled to point out. “There were any number of people who knew her better and could also have thought of this sooner—like the principal at her school, and the other teachers.”

“I know. That doesn’t make it any easier. At least he didn’t die, and we can help him now.” She picked up the dog and stood. “Could you see if there’s any dog food we can bring with us? It’ll be better for him if he can eat the food he’s used to, at least for the next week or so. Be sure to grab his bowls.”

“All right.” A quick search of the kitchen unearthed a bag of premium dry dog food along with several cans of wet. Tossing everything into a paper shopping bag, he joined her where she waited by the front door. “This should tide it over until we figure out what to do with it.”

“It’s a him, not an it!” She glowered, but his tact had its limits and he had no true remorse to offer. She sighed. “Okay, let’s go home.”