I fall to my knees, palms hitting the wood as my head drops forward, heart breaking.
“Dolly,” I whisper.
I feel the wet nudge of Ranger’s nose against my cheek. Then he lowers himself to his belly beside me, snout resting on the back of my hand as he looks up at me, big brown eyes mournful and comforting at the same time.
I hiccup out a sob, then another.
I know there are people who say that it’s just a dog, but I’m guessing maybe those are the people who’ve never had a dog. Or maybe they have kids to absorb some of their love. But it’s just me and Dolly, and she has all my love. And now she’s gone.
I tuck my elbows into my sides, covering my face with my hands, trying to get it together, but I just can’t. I feel like I’m going to splinter.
Dolly.
I’m sorry, Dolly.
My brain does that clichéd thing where it flits through a montage of memories. Her thrashing her toys. Barking at leaves. Curling up on my pillow even when it means no room for my own head. Her playing hard to get with Ranger, and the way she’d follow Noah around like a faithful servant when he was working inside the house.
The visions are so vivid that I can actually hear her bark.
Over and over I hear her bark, and I start to cry harder, until I realize…
That is her bark.
Ranger’s already off the porch, his barks loud and manic as he darts off into the darkness.
I stand, starting to follow the big Lab, when I see him.
The porch light doesn’t give me much, but I see Noah, walking toward me in the dark, slow and steady.
In his arms is a tiny fluff ball, barking madly.
“Dolly!”
I lose a flip-flop running toward them, but barely notice. My dog squirms when I get close, and I carefully pull her from Noah’s arms, burying my face in her damp, slightly smelly fur.
“Where?” I choke out.
“The cotton ball managed to get all that ridiculous fur behind her front legs completely tangled in some sort of prickly bush on the far side of the property. Even if she heard us calling, I don’t think she could move.”
“Thank you,” I whisper. I step closer to him, all but crushing my dog between us as I press my face into his neck. “Thank you.”
Noah gathers me to him. “Always,” he whispers against my hair.
We stand like that for several minutes, Noah stroking my back soothingly, letting my heart cease its panicked gallop, before he gently steps away and turns me toward the house.
He nudges me forward, only to stop me once more, his grip tightening as he pulls me to a stop. “Princess. Your feet.”
I peek down, register that they’re covered in mud and blood. “I’ll take care of them inside.”
I start to move forward again, but he holds me back, grumbling something about me being an idiot, and then scoops me up in his big arms.
I squeak in surprise, adjusting my grip on my dog, but as he carries me toward the house and up the steps, I can’t help but giggle at the picture we must make, him carrying me, me carrying Dolly.
Only Ranger is left out, and his pissed-off bark lets us know he knows it.
Noah gently sets me down outside the door, opening it for me and the dogs before following me inside.
“Let me take her,” he says. “I want to check her paws. I think she’s okay, but she was pretty tangled. Had to cut some of that stupid fluff with my pocket knife, so don’t go getting pissed at me because she has a bad ‘do.”