Mr. Townsend appears and pulls the dog from the glass to open the door.

The dog jumps against Mr. Townsend’s legs and scratches her front paws against him so he picks her up. She’s white and fluffy, with big black eyes that have gross eye gunk in them.

“Raquel, right?” he asks.

“Rachel,” I say.

“Oh, right. Are you here about the pet-sitting job?”

The term sounds so funny. I picture Chablis trying to tie me up like the Grayson twins did and grin. “Yes,” I say.

Another little dog that looks like a much older version of Chablis only darker in color wanders over to us and also scratches at Mr. Townsend’s leg. “Oh, Malbec, I can’t hold you, too.” He looks at me. “Would you mind?”

I pick up the little dog and hold it the way Mr. Townsend is holding Chablis. The minute he’s near my face, I nearly gag. He smells terrible, especially his breath.

Mr. Townsend sees me make a face. “I know — the old thing smells like death,” he says. “We’ll be taking the dogs to the lake with us, of course, so you don’t need to worry about these little stinkers.” It’s an insult, but he says it in a sweet way, like they could smell twenty times worse and he would still love them.

We set the dogs down and go out a back door. We stop at the new horse barn first, where two beautiful big horses stand patiently in the shade. “This is Ben and Gil,” Mr. Townsend says. “They’re retired workhorses. Aren’t they gorgeous? The old farmer we got them from was sad to see them go, but they did their time and need a nice place to be put to pasture. We’ll spoil them and give them a happy end of life.”

I reach out my hand, and Ben gently nuzzles my fingers, looking for a treat.

“We have apples and carrots in the fridge,” Mr. Townsend says. “Let me show you.”

I follow him into a third stall, which they have set up as a tack room, and he shows me how to measure the grain, then points out a mini fridge stocked with apples and carrots. I think these must be the only horses in the country that have their own mini fridge stocked with treats. Poor Rainbow. I’m glad he doesn’t know what he’s missing.