When I buzz the front door, the daytime manager lady smiles at me sympathetically when she lets me in. “Mr. Bridges. Welcome back—what a nice tan you have.”
“Hi, thank you. Is he ready to go?”
“Oh yes, we have all of his things together, and he’ll be so happy to see you.” She pats me on the shoulder. “I’ll call back to have someone bring him out.”
“Great.”
I sign for everything and try to shake off the nerves when the lady isn’t looking. If I can win Foxy Roxy’s heart, then I can win the love of a labradoodle, for Christ’s sake. The door to the back rooms opens, and I’m so excited to see the little fucker, it’s just stupid. “Hey, buddy! Hey, boy!”
He’s wagging his tail, so cute and happy and energetic and then…he sees me, and he stands still and whimpers. He turns to jump up and paw at the closed door he just came out of.
“Look who it is, Jackpot! Look who it is, you good boy!” the guy who’s holding on to his leash says. He tries to pull Jackpot toward me while reaching out to hand me my duffel bag with his belongings. Including the unwashed T-shirt of mine that I asked them to leave in his room so he’d remember how I smell. Well, that worked. Thanks, Internet.
“Jackpot!” I say, crouching down—because maybe if I’m more on his level, it’ll be easier for him to realize how much he missed me. “C’mere, buddy!”
He whines and licks his chops, looks up at the guy and the lady, who both signal with their heads for him to go over to me. And he does. He trots on over to me and stands in front of me, staring just to the right of me while he lets me pet him. It’s like when I was a kid and my mom was all, “Go give Aunt Bunny a hug!” and I’d trudge over and stand there to let my Great Aunt Bunny hug me while holding my breath so I didn’t choke on the overwhelming scent of gin and vermouth, Parliament Lights, and Chanel No. 5.
But I’m feeling like the king of the world again. This counts as bonding. “He looks great!” I say. “Let’s go home!”
My dog gives his friends one backward glance, sighs, and leads me to the door. He just wants to get this next part of his life over with, but I’ve got a trick up my sleeve, and I’m hoping it will score me some points with the asshole.
Sure enough, as soon as Roxy opens the car door, Jackpot is wagging his tail and jumping and barking a happy greeting. “Hey there, handsome! Get in here!” She pats her lap twice, and my dog springs up from the sidewalk right into her lap. I had no idea he could do that. Roxy gives him a thorough rubdown, and I’m not sure which one of them I’m more jealous of.
I shut the door and go around to the other side. I guess I’m happy for them. He’s giving my girlfriend’s face a tongue bath when I get in. I drop the duffel bag on the floor between my legs. “I guess we go to Roxy’s building now,” I tell Manny. “Drive slow, for Jackpot’s sake.”
“Oh, you have such nice breath,” she says to him. “Your fur smells so good too! Did they give him a bath?”
“Several.”
“I wanna know what kind of shampoo they used, because it smells so good!” she says to Jackpot in a tone of voice she would never use with me.
“Roxpot foreva, I guess,” I say under my breath.
Roxy hears me and pulls her head back, away from Jackpot’s adoring tongue, trying to get him to turn around on her lap and face me. “Hey. Jackpot,” she says authoritatively. “Sit here. Right here.” She pats the seat between us. He steps off her lap and sits up straight exactly where she was pointing. “Good boy,” she says, stroking him on the back of his neck. She motions for me to touch him.
We pet him, together, until we pull up in front of her building.
“You sure you don’t want to spend the night with us?”
“Not tonight,” she says as she leans across the dog to kiss me.
Manny parks and gets out to take her bags out of the trunk.
“Call me,” I say.
“When?”
“As soon as you realize how much you miss me.”
She scoffs at that. “I’ll see you in just over twenty-four hours.”
“And you’re going to miss me the whole time. I want you to know that I won’t judge you or think you’re needy just because you call me in the middle of the night, wanting to hear my sexy reassuring voice. I’ll be fine with that.”
“Okay, pal. See you tomorrow.” She gives Jackpot a kiss on the top of his head. I can tell he’s getting anxious. “I will see you very soon,” she says to him.
“Here,” I say, pulling my unwashed Wharton T-shirt out of the duffel bag. “You can take this. It smells like me.”
She laughs a lot harder than necessary because I’m only half joking. She does not take the T-shirt. “I’ll text you later,” she says, shaking her head.