But what on earth was it doing here? Rudy was ridiculously devoted to the beast. If he was spending the night at Pru’s, he’d stop at home after work to feed the cat and play with it. He did this even though it took him an hour out of the way. She’d thought of it as a good sign, when they’d first met, and, in fact, HAS CAT was listed in the pro column of the Rudy list. It meant he could care for something. Of course, the morning after it spat at her, HAS CAT appeared on the con side, too, thereby canceling itself out.
McKay wasn’t in the Puppy Playground. She found him in the Doggie Den, kneeling in front of what looked to be a dirty dust mop on four legs. Like the Cat Condo, it was much quieter here, almost eerily so. The cage behind them was opened, and McKay was letting the dust mop lick his hand.
“What are you doing?” she said.
“Nothing,” he said, mock innocently.
“I think I saw Rudy’s cat, in there. In fact, I’m sure it was Rudy’s cat. In the Cat Condo.”
“Rudy Fisch? What’s his cat doing in the Cat Condo?”
“I don’t know. Playing shuffleboard?”
“Do you think Rudy dumped him?”
“I wouldn’t have thought so, but I can’t imagine how else he’d get here. I’ve never seen the cat leave the couch, much less the apartment. I guess maybe he did. He’s in something of a dumping phase, isn’t he?”
“So, what did you do about it?” McKay said.
“About Rudy’s cat? Nothing.”
McKay looked genuinely appalled. “Prudence Whistler. You just left that poor thing there?”
“I didn’t dump the cat. Hell, it never even lived with me. Why is this my problem?”
“I don’t know, but it is.”
“I’m not really a pet person.”
“So? Just call Rudy and tell him it’s there. Maybe he doesn’t even know.”
“No,” she said firmly. “No way. I wouldn’t call Rudy if I’d found his mother in a cage at the Humane Society. Although, frankly, it would be easier to understand.”
McKay shrugged. “All right,” he said. “But this is on your head. Look at her eyes,” he said, raising the dog’s face so Pru could see. “Aren’t they intelligent? Huskies are supposed to be very smart dogs.”
The husky’s fur was matted and gray. She performed no tricks, emitted no grunts, exhaled no sweet warm puppy breath. Her teeth were yellow. She sat there and panted, wetly. Leave it to McKay to choose the dog that looked most ready to keel over. He really was a ridiculously soft touch.
“You’re not getting attached, are you?”
“Oh, no. Of course not.”
“I promised Bill . . .”
“Just relax. There’s something going on between me and this here girl.”
McKay stood and moved a short distance away, then snapped his fingers. Slowly, the dog stood and obediently dragged herself over to him, then sat at his feet, swaying a little.
“Look at that,” McKay said, delighted. “She already obeys me.”
“Stop,” Pru said, dryly, automatically. “You are not going home with this dog.”
“Don’t be silly,” said McKay. “They kill animals that are left here, you know. I can’t do that to poor Oxo.”
“What’s an Oxo?”
“Her name!”
Pru looked at the tag on the cage. “It says here ’Debbie.’”
“Well, now it’s Oxo.”
“You’re naming her after a can opener?”
McKay bent low to the dog, running his hand over her head and cooing, “You’re coming with me, aren’t you, girl? Aren’t you, girl? Yes, you are! Yes, you are!”
Five
On Monday morning she sat at the little desk in her living room, chewing on her pen and staring out the window. She’d made herself change out of her pajamas, into her comfiest pair of Lucky jeans and a peasant blouse. She’d even made herself put on shoes, the ones that laced up her legs, under the jeans. She thought she looked very work-at-homey. It was cooler than it had been in weeks, but still warm enough that she kept the windows open.
She used to love this time of year, back-to-school time. She loved the smell of sharpened pencils, the clean sheets of paper in her three-ring binder. The night before the first day of school, she and Patsy would sit at the kitchen table, folding book covers out of brown paper bags and decorating them with magic markers. Everything would be new and shiny and ready for the next day. She’d have picked out her outfit for school before she went to sleep.
But now she was feeling restless and antsy. Since she’d lost her job she’d had the odd sense of carrying around a big bucket of water. The bucket was filled to the brim and almost too heavy to lift, and she couldn’t figure out where to put it down. Ordinarily she would have left it next to her desk, at work. Or she’d have given it to Rudy. But now she just had to keep slogging that bucket around with her, from one place to another, everywhere she went.
On the drive home from the Humane Society, while McKay talked to the happy, loudly panting dog in the rearview mirror, she’d come up with a better plan than finding another full-time job: consulting. She liked the dignified sound of it. She’d be her own boss, and she could do almost all her work out of her apartment. Maybe she wasn’t cut out for an office job after all. It was true, she missed her old desk, with its neatly
