Betsy pulls herself up onto the plush couch and settles at one end with a loud, bored sigh.
“What is it girl?” I ask out loud. She responds with a yawn.
She wants to go outside. I know this because she always wants to be outside, and she’s been sitting by the open back door for an hour, whining a request for someone to play with her in the small backyard.
I don’t neglect her; she’s a well-cared for dog. Perhaps not as well these days, though, since Harry left. She was his dog really. He picked her out and brought her home without ever even thinking to ask me if I wanted a pet.
“I thought you’d like her. She can keep you company while I’m at work.” He had said, smiling that ‘love me’ smile of his.
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