A Dog Like Lloyd by Jacqueline Sheehan

Author:Jacqueline Sheehan
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781473550308
Publisher: Ebury Publishing

Chapter 18

PROPERTY. THAT WAS the question. If the dog had been discarded, abused, or shot, couldn’t he then come under the protection of the dog warden, or the ASPCA? Roxanne watched the black dog dance enthusiastically around his food bowl like an overly large tap dancer with a limp.

“Hang on Lloyd … Cooper. I mean Cooper. Cooper, Cooper.” She popped the top off the new garbage can and scooped three cups of dry food into his bowl. She put the bowl down and the dog looked up in what appeared to be gratitude, a slight tilt to his head, eyes softened, a three-wagged thanks.

The sky ignited with a blood red sun peeking over the horizon. She watched for what she knew would be brief moments of red before the sun settled into its daily dress of yellow. The shortest day of the year, December 21, had just passed, and by mid-afternoon, the sun would begin to depart. She had welcomed this time of year with Bob, the turning inward, staying indoors, abandoning all hope of yard work in the dark evenings. She loved driving up to their house when it was just dark, and seeing the golden glow of lights in the house welcoming her, meaning that Bob was home. If she was very lucky and it was his turn to get dinner, the house would be filled with smells of food and the promise of comfort.

Food. Right, she needed to eat. She made coffee and while it dripped, she shook cereal into a bowl, doused it with milk, and set it on the table. She ate and thought about the right thing to do with the dog. First she’d call Isaiah and tell him to hold off on calling the woman’s family in Providence. There was no rush, no need to upset them at this time. Everyone needed to slow down and think. She put her bowl of almost finished cereal on the floor and Cooper licked the remainder.

“Need to go out? You go first, I’ll be right there.” She opened the door for the dog, who headed for the first tree and let loose with steaming relief. She picked up the phone and punched in Isaiah’s number.

“Morning, Charlotte. Is this too early to call? Is the director of public works still drinking his decaf?”

“Roxanne, he was just getting ready to call you. Before he gets on, I wanted to ask you about the holidays. Will you be staying on the island over Christmas?”

Roxanne had tried hard not to think of Christmas, but it loomed with unbearable weight. She was determined to stay on the island, barricade the door, and wait until it passed. “I’ll be here. You two off to see the family?”

“Our son in North Carolina wants to have the big family gathering at his place. Would you stop in and feed our cat? Isaiah is too shy to ask you.”

“Give me the lowdown on the cat, when and what to feed her. She’s an indoor/outdoor model, right? Let me know if there’s anything else I can do while you’re gone,” said Roxanne.

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