Page 37 of Love Me

I crouch down to her level and listen, giving her patience even though I know we’re behind schedule.

“Munchkin, I don’t hear anything.”

“No! Shh! Don’t talk. Listen.”

She puts her little hand up to her ear, cupping it around and leaning forward. She can be extremely bossy when her mind is set on something. It’s difficult not to encourage her to use her voice because I don’t ever want her to feel like her’s isn’t important or valued. But right now? In an alley in the freezing cold when we’re running late? I need to pick my battles, and unfortunately, this is one of them.

Releasing my hand, she starts to walk away. Trailing close behind her, I start to hear the faint whimpers and scratches of a small animal. Moving on instinct, I scoop Charlie up with one arm around her waist, holding her sideways like a sack of flour. She immediately starts to flail.

“Charlie, it’s a rat, and they carry diseases. Let’s get going.”

“No, listen! It’s crying. Rats don’t cry! Ms. Katie said so!”

“Your teacher told you that rats don’t cry?”

“Yep!” she pops the “p” for good measure, the little fibber. Deciding to indulge her, thinking back to the last time she had all her immunizations and wondering if any of them cover feral animals, I put her back on her feet and follow her into the alley. A little bark echoes through the dank space and Charlie looks back at me with an iconic “told ya so” face that she could have only gotten from her mother.

“Okay, okay. Let’s investigate.”

“What’s investigrate?” she whispers, butchering the pronunciation.

“It’s when you check something out closer.”

Grabbing the hood of her raincoat, I pull her behind me while I move some boxes away from the dumpster. Sitting in the corner, shivering, is a tiny, dirty dog that looks more like a large rat than anything else.

“A puppy!” Charlie squeals as she barrels out from behind me, reaching for it.

“Hey, hey! Freeze, little miss! Did Ms. Katie teach you about rabies? Cause that thing could definitely have it.”

“It doesn’t have the raybeez.” And I can’t help the laugh that comes out of me at her pronunciation. “It’s sooooooo cute!” she squeals as she balls her little hands into fists and shakes her head violently, eyes large and wide.

I squat down and hold out my hand for the little rat-dog. The dirt and grime matted to his short fur is so thick it’s hard to tell what the natural color is but I’m assuming it’s a mixed breed. Knowing I can’t leave it out here to starve, the moment that tail starts wagging wildly and its nose bumps my fingers—clear signs it’s not going to try to bite me—I scoop it up into my arms.

Still on my haunches, I turn so Charlie can see it better. She jumps from foot to foot, clapping her hands and squealing.

“Calm, Charlie, calm. We don’t want to scare”—I lift it really quick and check the undercarriage—“him.”

“’Kay. Whisper voices.”

“That’s right.”

“Hi, Garbage. We’re taking you home now.”

The chuckle that I release is far from quiet and booms through the alley as I study her. Dark brown eyes, the color of rich molasses, blink back tears as she oohs and aahs over the ball of matted fur in the crook of my arm.

“Garbage?”

“Yep! That’s where we found him.”

I laugh again.

“That doesn’t mean we need to name him Garbage, munchkin. You were born on a kitchen floor, but your momma didn’t name you Kitchen.”

“I like Garbage. His name is Garbage.”

“We’re going to have to talk about this.”

Standing to my full height, I pull the dog close and grab Charlie’s hand, walking the rest of the way up Main Street. We take a short path between two buildings and climb the stairs to the second-floor door so we aren’t waltzing through Bean Haven with the dang thing. Hannah is going to kick my ass.

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