How to Change a Life by Stacey Ballis

Author:Stacey Ballis [Ballis, Stacey]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Berkley
Published: 2017-08-14T18:30:00+00:00

I’m on my way.

• • •

I knock on Lynne’s door and hear a flurry of activity and the unmistakable sound of barking. Suddenly things are starting to make sense. The door swings open and there is my elegant friend Lynne, sweating and looking panicked, her hair a rat’s nest, holding a wiggly Dalmatian puppy, who is chewing on Lynne’s ponytail and scrabbling at her arms, already covered in red welts, with his rear paws.

“Hi,” she says. “This is your fault.”

I try to prevent myself from laughing.

“Well, hello there. Who is this?” I say, coming inside to see that her apartment looks like a crime scene. There are feathers everywhere, presumably from a destroyed throw pillow, unmistakable pee stains on the rug, scratches on the hardwood flooring, and what appear to be the remains of at least two different shoes.

“This is Ellison. Who I am about to fucking kill. Can you take him for a minute?” She holds out the beastie to me as I put my purse safely on the counter. I receive the warm weight of puppy, cooing to him softly, and hold him tightly with his back nestled against my front and his legs supported from underneath. I spot a small bully stick on the side table and pick it up, holding it while he chews it, and he calms immediately.

“Hello, Ellison. Are you a terror?”

“He’s a fucking terrorist.” Lynne begins to pick up the detritus from her little Tasmanian devil. “Look at my house! He’s gonna destroy everything!”

“Well, yeah, he’s a puppy. When did you get him?” I say, settling into one of the club chairs in the living room. Ellison readjusts himself on my lap and accidentally nips my hand, and I adjust the bully stick to keep his razor-sharp puppy teeth farther from my tender flesh. He snuggles into the wide expanse of my thighs, using his front paws on my hands to help hold the chew toy.

Lynne collapses on the couch, where I can see that one corner of the arm closest to me has been well chewed. “Over the weekend. I picked him up Friday afternoon. Took yesterday and today off to get him settled. He was so sweet. Calm and quiet, just spent the last four days as a lovely, mellow little guy. Then I went upstairs to the workout room this morning after his walk and came home to this!” She sweeps her hand around the apartment.

“Didn’t you have him crated?” I can see the large black crate in the corner of the room.

“He was sleeping on his little bed when I left. I was only gone forty minutes.”

I chuckle. “Yeah, that’s all it takes.”

“Clearly.”

“How old is he?”

“Twelve weeks. He’s had a month of puppy training at the breeder, so he can handle the leash, and knows ‘sit.’ But I would have thought he would be more housebroken than this.”

Oh, Lord. “Lynne, I know I said you should get a dog, but didn’t I specifically say you should go to the pound and get an older rescue dog?”

She narrows her eyes at me.

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