Brigit
Brigit loved this place!
The front porch was shady and cool, the perfect place from which a dog could keep watch over the neighborhood or lie down for a nap. So much better than their current digs, where she had to stand guard at a narrow window that gave only a partial view of the apartment complex parking lot. Hard to work under those conditions.
The floors were sturdy hardwood in the living room and bedrooms, linoleum in the kitchen and baths. Brigit would have preferred nice, plush carpet to lie on, but she knew Megan would put down a soft rug or bed for her. Besides, her partner let her up on the furniture, so the floors weren’t a deal-breaker.
The kitchen contained fading, residual smells of bacon grease and pork chops, making Brigit’s mouth water. Too bad her partner was a vegetarian. Still, those soy sausages Megan sometimes made for breakfast weren’t half bad. They weren’t half good, either. But a dog who’d gone without a meal for several days under the negligent care of a previous owner knew better than to ever turn down food, no matter how it tasted.
When Megan opened the back door for her, it seemed like a portal to heaven. Brigit saw a deep yard with a gnarly live oak and a tall pecan tree that, from the smell, served as home to an extensive squirrel family sure to provide Brigit with hours of entertainment. As soon as Megan unclipped her leash, Brigit had bolted into the space, running around and kicking up her heels, thrilled to have room to roam and romp. The dirt was soft under her feet, perfect for digging and hiding bones in. A rrrruf! from next door told her she’d have a friend in the neighborhood, a terrier judging from what she could see through a small gap in the fence boards.
The only downside was that darn cat. The stupid thing had followed them all through the house, had tried on several occasions to get Brigit’s attention by swiping at her tail. Pathetic. Brigit sensed the poor thing might be lonely. Heck, she’d been there herself, back when she’d lived with her first owner, who rarely gave her attention. While Brigit would have preferred to share her home with another dog, she’d learn to tolerate the feline if she had to.
As Megan led her back to their cruiser, Brigit slowed to sniff the ivy, scenting two rats hiding in the foliage. Had she not been on a leash, she would’ve eaten one as an hors d’oeuvre, the other for dinner.
Or maybe she would’ve shared the second one with that cat …