Page 25 of No Strings
“What is that?”
She doesn’t look at me, just continues to play with the dog. “You went to school, right?”
“No.”
“No? No, you didn’t go to school or no you don’t know what this is? I’ll help you.” Looking at me, she then proceeds to sound out ‘puppy’. I’d laugh if she was directing this attitude at anyone else.
“Very fucking funny.”
“Thank you, no one recognises how funny I am.”
I close my eyes and take a deep breath. I have to call Shane and see where he’s at with finding her scumbag ex. Opening my eyes I watch as she encloses the head of the thing and puts on a baby voice while rubbing its ears. “You just ignore Mister Grumpy; you can stay with me.”
“That isn’t staying here.”
“Why?”
The yellow-sandy colouring of its fur has me questioning whether it’s a dog or a dingo. But then its ears directly pointupward, and it’s a dead giveaway. “Because it’s a fucking dingo!”
“And?”
Slowing it down I restate my previous comment, “It’s a fucking dingo, Morgan.”
“The poor thing is a stray.” Completely ignoring what I said, which would point her to the fact that it’s a wild animal, but she continues, “And I thought that was ok.” She shrugs.
I feel my face twist up in question, “What?”
“Well, you brought that stray back the other night.” She deadpans, still not looking at me, but I can see the smirk slowly forming on her face. She’s proud of that comment.
“You mean… fuck. I can’t remember her name.”
“Shocking.”
“Yeah, well she was, is, a human. That is not.” I point at the pup.
“She was still chasing a bone.”
That’s actually pretty funny, but I bite back a laugh, “Let me break this down, Morgan. You are not keeping that mutt here.”
“Yes I am.”
“Morgan Rae Elliot.”
“Fuck off Rhys.” And with that, she is walking into the house. My fucking house. With the fucking animal. This fucking woman is pushing every button I possess.
Brent rounds the corner. Thank God, it’s his station, he can tell her to get rid of it. Molly is close behind him.
Shit. The fucking dingo is staying. I know it.
“So, we have some men coming in the next few days to help with the muster.” He looks at me. “What?”
“She found a fucking pup.”
“Morgan?”
“Who else?”
Molly squeals and runs inside asking to see the puppy. I hear Molly’s gleeful, “She’s so cute!” from out here.
