Page 1 of Single Dad Dilemma
Chapter One
Lily
New people, in general, were not my favorite thing in the world. Some could be nice. Friendly and genuine and all that shit. Their desire to get to know you was well intentioned and everything, but in order to do that, God, it involved questions and conversation, and I’d never been all that good at either of those things.
My dog—little asshole that he was—was a phenomenal conversationalist. Well ... a great listener, maybe. I’d long begun to suspect he was an introvert too.
He wasn’t friendly. When approached by someone new, he’d do this little brow-furrowing thing and back up a step. There was no tail wagging, no jumping up and down at the attention from a stranger. Usually, he’d just give me a long-suffering look that conveyed a general sense ofWhy the ever-loving hell are you letting them touch me, human?
In my head, Larry swore a lot. Not that anyone else could know this about him. All they saw was his fuzzy little face, and they lost all sense of polite personal boundaries.
It didn’t matter where we lived, peoplealwayswanted to meet the dog. It didn’t matter that I could’ve won every award in existence forResting Bitch Face, or that I put out the welcoming energy of a cactus—the dog fucking reeled them in.
In general, I was convinced that people could not help themselves, given that he looked like a troll doll/gremlin hybrid on a leash. Fluffy, weird hair. Big, buggy eyes. So ugly he was cute. Sort of.
And it’s why, at the moment, there were two small human faces staring at me through the fence separating my current living situation from the neighbors’. For a while, they’d played coy, acting like they weren’t desperately trying to get the dog’s attention while I walked him around and pleaded with him to do his business out on the grass.
Larry did not feel much like listening to me. We were still in a tiff from earlier in the day.
He was old as shit, and we’d long since passed the time when wearing a diaper was the best bet to avoid public embarrassments, and I’d been on the receiving end of more than one Larry glare when I affixed it to his little ass.
“It’s cold,” I told him. “I know it’s cold, you know it’s cold, let’s just move on and not make a big thing of it, okay? This is far more dignified than me changing your diaper, don’t you think?”
Larry looked up and stared at me, unmoving. Like literally, he would not move, and I know his dime-size bladder had to be full. My eyes narrowed, but he didn’t do shit. I could practically hear him:You’re the genius who took a new house-sitting job in Buffalo, New York, in December. Of course it’s fucking cold, but I shouldn’t be expected to pay the price for that.
Basking in the sun like a cat was more Larry’s style, but unfortunately for him, there’d be a bit less of that during our time here, what with the ever-present cloud blanket that never seemed to go away. I sent an ineffectual glare in the direction of that cloud and shifted on my feet, praying that when I looked back down, Larry would be doing his little forward-lean pee stance.
“Your dog is really cute.”
There it was.
The fence kids had finally saddled up enough courage to say something. I raised an eyebrow and glanced over. They were tall and gangly, all long legs and big eyes and brown hair. Sort of like Larry, except the kids were cute and not terrifying. The girl had a white hat shoved on her head, and the boy wore a similar style in blue.
“Thanks,” I told them. “He knows it too.”
The boy sniffled, likely from the cold, and ran a hand under his nose. “Why isn’t he moving?”
“Because he hates me.”
They both laughed, unaware that I was telling the honest-to-God truth.
It was one of those incontrovertible facts of life, like gravity. The sun rose in the east and set in the west. And Larry lowered his personal standards to tolerate me, simply because I was the one who fed him, sheltered him, and clothed him (see previous comment about the diapers). I even bought him the fancy dog food that had to stay in the fridge, because his old-man teeth couldn’t handle kibble.
“No, he doesn’t,” the girl said on a giggle.
“Sure he does. Watch.” I crouched down and extended my hand. “Come here, Larry,” I cooed in the nicest voice I could manage. “Come here, little man. Let’s cuddle.”
He plopped his ass down in the cold grass and gave me a haughty look.
I glanced over at the kids. “See? A cold heart in this one.”
“Can we try?” she asked. “Maybe ... maybe he likes kids?”
For a second, I stared at her, a dangerous cavern opening up in my chest. I didn’t want to prod at what was hiding there in the dark, but even with my aversion to new people, I found myself nodding. “Yeah, you can try.”
Her brother whispered something fiercely, and she paused with a great heaving, dramatic sigh.
His little chest puffed out. “We don’t know who you are. You might be a kidnapper. Dad always tells us to be careful about strangers.”
