Whiskey Latte

November, 2016

November, 2016

"Close that fucking door already!"

Dale quickly complied with the scathing command and pushed the front door closed with his back. Ingrid soon emerged into the hallway, bending over as she did to pick up a...puppy? When she straightened up, Dale could see that beneath her beaming grin, Ingrid was indeed cradling a puppy at her chest.

He frowned. "What'd I miss?"

He stepped out of his shoes and advanced towards the kitchen, to put the groceries away. It was Saturday morning and, knowing Ingrid's fridge would be empty by the end of the week, he'd stopped by the supermarket on his way over.

Ingrid followed him, kissing and cuddling her pet.

"I found her in the garden a couple days ago," she said, "sniffing around the food bowl because there was nothing left in it. She was limping a little, so I took her to the vet. Apparently, she's just a couple months old and had been on the street for a while. Possibly abandoned. It's miracle she's made it this far."

Dale, all done with the groceries, walked up to her and scratched the little dog between its ears. Ingrid passed it to his arms and the same brilliant smile she'd had earlier now lit up his face.

"What's her name?" Dog and Dale stared at Ingrid with his question.

She raised a quizzical eyebrow. "I was thinking Dale, just now. You two kinda look alike."

His own eyebrow rose in response. Then it lowered with the grin splitting his mouth.

"Because we're both too damn cute?" He lifted the little dog's head to be level with his own and offered his best puppy-eye rendition.

Ingrid actually laughed.

She reached up to pat and peck the puppy's forehead, which made Dale pout. Ingrid bit her lip. Dale dipped his head lower and she wrapped a hand around the back of it, leaning into the kiss. The ignored puppy began to whine and grumble, until its two humans separated and paid attention to it again.

Dale set it down, but it jumped up Ingrid's leg and when she tried to walk, it restlessly circled her feet.

"I think she loves you," Dale said.

Ingrid crouched down and got the dog on its back, to scratch its belly. "Yeah, well, too bad I can't keep her."

"Well, why not?"

"Well, for one, I don't want her wrecking the place." Ingrid stood up and went to wash her hands at the kitchen sink. "But mainly, I don't really have time for her. I just picked her up from the vet today, she'll need constant care for a while and that's not something I can provide. Not the way work is going right now."

Ingrid sat down and her puppy came to paw at her toes.

"I can look after her," Dale suggested. "I can stay here when you're not home, make sure she's fed and whatnot. I've got dogs of my own, you know. Back home."

Ingrid looked like she began to consider it.

"You can help me foster her for a while," she said in the end, "but she can't stay. I'll find her a family who can love her forever."

A stretch of silence passed between them, save for the pup panting and grunting.

"Still," Dale said, "you should give her a name."

Ingrid stared down at the excited mutt clawing its way up her knees, its tongue hanging out between its tiny fangs.

"Lassie," she blurted.