Page 12 of Something Like Shelter

She was dressed in a cream-colored cardigan with big brown buttons over another of those matching pajama sets. But she was dry. Her hair looked clean and pulled back into a neat braid.

She watched me with a curious look before disappearing to come and open the door.

“Owen, hey,” she said, smile soft as she moved aside.

“I wanted to check on the drying process,” I told her.

“Of course. Um… did you mean to leave your van running?” she asked.

“I have my dog with me.”

“Is he friendly?”

“Well, he’s a Golden Retriever… so yes.”

“You don’t have to leave him in the car.”

“He’s not hypoallergenic or anything,” I said, glancing over to the playard where I assumed the baby was sleeping.

“That’s okay. Studies have actually shown that babies who were exposed to dogs before a year old have better immune systems, fewer allergies, and less respiratory infections. Sorry, totally spouting things from books at you. But he’s welcome to come in. I try to make my family bring their dogs as often as possible when they visit.”

“Well, he did just come back from the groomer, so he’s as clean as he can get.”

“Good. Bring him in then,” she offered.

She stood there in the doorway as I walked back to the van. I could feel her gaze on me like it was something weighted as I reached in to cut the engine then grab Tuna’s leash.

He’d been half asleep, but found his ample energy as soon as he realized he had a new friend to meet. And a new house to sniff.

“Oh, you’re so handsome!” Willa said in that singsong voice women always used on dogs. “And you smell so yummy, yes you do,” she said, rubbing Tuna’s head as his tail threatened to wag right off his backside. “What’s your name, sweet baby?”

“Tuna.”

Willa’s gaze cut up to mine.

“Tuna?” she asked, lips twitching.

“The rescue named him. His mama was dumped when she was pregnant down South somewhere. They shipped her up here, and she had twelve puppies. All named after fish. So I guess I’m just grateful I didn’t get Mackerel.”

“Or Tilapia,” she said.

“Snapper would have been pretty unfortunate too,” I said, getting a tinkling little laugh out of her. “I know I could’ve changed it, but it felt wrong. He had a name. I kept it.”

“Well, Tuna, you are very welcome to come in and explore.”

“You don’t know what you’re offering,” I warned. “He can clear a coffee table with his tail.”

“Then it’s lucky for me that I just cleaned up,” she said, reaching down to unhook his leash as I moved in and closed the door.

Tuna took off like a shot, sniffing every corner, curtain, chair, and inch of floor as he went.

“My cousin had her two Great Pyrenees over yesterday,” Willa explained. “He probably smells them all over.”

“I see you invested in a white noise machine,” I said as we followed Tuna into the living room where a fan sat a few feet from the playard, but pointed up at the ceiling.

“Actually, I stole yours,” she admitted. “I tried three different ones. She didn’t like any of them. So I took yours out of the bathroom and put the one I bought up there.

“Which is my way of saying please, please let me buy it because I got a whole five hours of sleep last night because of it. Five hours. I know it doesn’t sound like much, but five hours all put together feels like I was in a long, restful coma today.”