Page 35 of Love in Mission City
As predicted, he reappeared a moment later. He handed over Rosebud’s leash as well as Sheffield attached to his leash.
The dog nearly jumped to my waist in his enthusiasm to see me.
“Hey buddy, you get the whole day with me.”
His tongue lolled.
I straightened. “You rest.”
Byron rolled his eyes, muttered, “Thank you,” then shut the door.
I clipped Rosebud’s leash to her collar and eased her gently down to the floor. “Oh, this is going to be so much fun. Where should we go first?” I figured up the hill and into the residential neighborhood with all the tree-lined streets and funky houses. Many were from the sixties and seventies while some homes were more recent. Clearly the old houses had been torn down so new ones could be built. That always made me a little sad. A little nostalgic. Possibly because a builder bought my childhood home after I moved my parents out and promptly tore it down and built a monstrosity. I’d considered keeping it for myself, but one, I had needed the money from the sale since my third book hadn’t been published yet, and two, a single guy in his mid-twenties didn’t really need a family home. Well, for some guys that was the dream. Not for me.
So I moved my family into a rancher-style home where everything was on one floor, but with bedrooms in the basements for when Aisha and Lindy came home for a break from school, but wanted privacy.
Except they never did. They visited to help Mama with Tansy. Giving her a few hours’ respite.
We exited the building, and Sheffield immediately booted to what was obviously his favorite planter. As he created art, I bent and scratched Rosebud’s ear. “You look like you’ve had a rough morning. Are you a sensitive dog who doesn’t like it when Daddy’s sick?”
She cocked her head.
Bowser might be a huge dog—a lug even in his puppy days—but he stuck like glue to Tansy except when he had to go out. My parents alternated who walked him—in order to give each other a break. As soon as they were back, though, Bowser was off to check on my sister.
I dreaded the day we lost him. And, in the back of my mind, I hoped I didn’t outlive my sister. I didn’t want to be in a world without her.
I did some quick calculations. My parents’ house was three miles away. Still on this side of town, but farther north. I eyed the dogs. No doubt Sheffield was up for the walk, but was Rosebud? I could carry her the last couple of miles. Although I sat at the computer all day, I had some resistance bands and small hand weights in my condo that I’d brought from home. I also planned to make liberal use of the weight equipment—one of the reasons I’d bought a unit in this particular building. Also because the thing was newer and—hopefully—had fewer problems. “Let’s go.”
Sheffield, clearly understanding that command, charged ahead.
Rosebud eyed me for a long while before finally agreeing.
The walk took longer than it did when I made the trek alone. But then I wasn’t sniffing, peeing, and pooping along the way. Fortunately we passed a gas station where I could discreetly drop used doggie bags.
Although the walk invigorated me, near the end, Rosebud wasn’t quite so spry. “Do you want me to carry you?”
She kept right on walking.
Whether she understood, of course, I couldn’t be certain. Still, we arrived at my parents’ house and both made a beeline for the fresh water my parents always kept by the front door. Not just for Bowser, but for any dog in the neighborhood. That meant welcoming people near our house, but my parents believed most dog owners were good people. That most people were good.
I’d bought them a good security system they often forgot to turn on.
Oh well.
My dad opened the door, clearly having spotted us from Tansy’s perch by the front window. I could’ve bought them a more isolated property, or even one with trees in the front yard. My sister, though, loved to watch people. She chose that over even watching television. On sunny days, we’d slather on the sunscreen, put her under an umbrella, and just let her hang around outside with Bowser and either Mom or Dad for company. Fortunately, most people didn’t stare at the wheelchair. They’d smile and wave. Tansy would wave back enthusiastically and some neighbors took that as an invitation to come visit.
That always made me happy.
Dad eyed the pups and arched an eyebrow at me. “Something you want to tell me?”
I grinned. “Company for Bowser. I think Tansy might like them as well.” I gestured to Sheffield. “He’s excitable, while she’s calmer.”
“Oh, that’s lovely.”
“They’re not mine.”
“That’s…unfortunate. You need a dog. Your condo is in a dog-friendly building.”
“So I can be friends with the dogs.” I grinned. “Mission accomplished.”
