I’ve had puppies before. I mean real puppies, the kind whose shit stinks like puppy shit. Puppy, I should say, not puppies. Rex died about seventeen years ago, now, the only dog I’d ever had. Got him as a puppy and had to do that whole training thing. Once was enough. And now it appeared I’d acquired another, and I wasn’t happy about it.

I opened the back for of my Volvo for her. Made her sit on the floor.

“No hair on the upholstery, Fido,” I said.

She crawled in. Just barely fit in between the back of the front seat and the bench seat behind, but she squeezed and tucked herself in there, kind of curled up, with this big goofy smile on her face. Shit.

All the way back to my flat in Jersey I was trying to think of a way to get rid of her. And then I thought what an idiot I was. All I’d have had to do is have her tell me where she lived and drive her home and make her get the fuck out of the car. So you can see where this is going. I began to wonder, was I th...

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