I blink once. Then twice. That explains the fur around the head. But… “Can a golden retriever and Pomeranian…” I make a circle with one hand and stick an index finger on the other hand in and out of the loop.
“Apparently.” Kim gestures at Champ.
“Wow. How does that work?” I ask, trying to imagine the deed with that size differential.
“I don’t know, and I didn’t ask.”
I squat down so I can run my hand along his soft body. “I didn’t know you wanted a dog.”
“I didn’t. Annie—you know, the building owner—asked me to keep him and take care of him. He’s her mom’s dog, but she passed away last Thursday. Annie told me she just couldn’t deal with the dog because it reminds too much of her mom. She’s devastated.”
“Oh no, that poor woman,” I say, my heart aching as I imagine what it must be like to suffer such a loss. I don’t know if I’d be able to cope in that situation.
“She says she can trust me to be good to him.”
“She’s right. I can’t think of anybody more responsible than you.”
“Anyway, so I’m stuck with him.”
Champ wags his tail and gives her another doggy smile. Meanwhile, Princess wraps herself around Kim’s ankles, while mewling loudly and—unless my imagination is being overactive—possessively. Did she follow us in? I didn’t even notice.
“So I guess that narrows your roommate search to people who like dogs. You know what? I’ll continue to pay for my portion of the rent until you find someone.”
“Nah. Annie gave me a break on the rent for taking care of Champ. So I’m good. I actually think it’ll be good for me to have the place to myself for a bit.”
“Oh. Well, cool. That’s great,” I say, relieved she’s all set. I’ve been feeling a bit guilty about abandoning her before the lease is up.
We go to my room. Kim helps me pack up my things. We avoid stuffing each box, since I’m not sure if lifting heavy things is okay or not. As we go through my stuff, Kim asks me if I want to throw anything out. We find a bottle of expired lotion, aged hair product samples that I’m certain aren’t good anymore and a couple pairs of worn-at-the-heels socks, so I toss them. The rest gets organized into boxes and labeled, while we gossip about people, TV shows and movies. Kim’s been plowing through so many on Netflix.
“You want the vase?” she asks me suddenly.
Pausing in the middle of writing shoes on a box flap, I lift my head. “What vase?”
“The one that one of your online dating guys gave you.”
Ugh! The pink-and-green monstrosity looks like a bloody snot tower. “I thought you threw that out.”
“I didn’t, just in case.”
“Don’t want it.”
Her eyes gleam. “Perfect.”
“Who is that slightly evil expression for?”
“No one.”
“You planning something?”
“Nope.”
She’s definitely planning something, but it doesn’t look like I’m the target. So okay.
I carry a small box with my shirts to the living room and almost drop it when there’s a sudden black streak right in front of me. “Does Princess hang out here a lot?” I ask, curious why she isn’t in her own place and left to wander around the building’s halls.
“She likes to be with me when her home’s empty.”
Aw, that’s cute. The cat’s just lonely. Champ is wagging his tail and looking happy in a corner, while panting like…well, an excited dog. And that makes me realize…