Page 28 of Fang Fatale

The staff gathers to say goodbye while I wrestle Barnaby into an oversized orange sweater and clip on his tiny harness. He leans against my legs as if he's already decided I'm home.

Maybe...

I've decided the same thing.

He's heavier than I remembered, or maybe I've simply forgotten what it feels like to carry something precious instead of burdensome.

Either way, I don't mind.

I settle him carefully into the passenger seat before climbing behind the wheel.

For a few quiet moments, neither of us moves.

Barnaby sniffs the dashboard.

I stare through the windshield.

Leland always said pets were distractions.

"They're expensive."

"They're messy."

"They demand too much attention."

At the time, I'd believed him.

Now I know the truth.

He didn't want anything competing for my affection.

Not friends.

Not hobbies.

Certainly not a dog who might remind me that love isn't supposed to come with conditions.

I reach across the console and scratch beneath Barnaby's graying chin.

"You're my first real pet, little man."

His tail gives one lazy thump.

I start the engine.

Instead of taking the quickest route home, I choose the scenic one. Partly for the view.

Partly because I'm still getting used to making choices simply because I want to.

Barnaby sticks his nose toward the cracked window, inhaling the cool morning air before sneezing three times in rapid succession.

Then he pees all over my passenger-side floor mat.

I blink.

He blinks back.

"Well," I sigh.