Josh and Fletcher curl up on the futon in the living room and wait out the next few hours, keeping each other company, watching reruns of Dog Whisperer
Could Fletcher pick up some pointers about his on-again, off-again mischievous doggie habits?
Josh cringes when he hears about how people should not feed dogs table scraps.
“We won’t tell daddy about the bacon,” he tells the dog.
Fletcher’s ears fly back at the mention of food, his body fidgeting eagerly, his tongue swiping his bottom lip.
“Don’t get any ideas, Fletcher.” He rubs the dog’s ears. “The bacon is between us, remember.”
By ten-thirty, Josh is startled awake at the all-too familiar sounds of heavy footsteps thudding up the stairs, a key sliding into the slot, the lock rotating and clicking into place. The apartment door creaks open.
Fletcher leaps off the futon and bounds across the room into Eddie’s arms.
“That’s my good boy.” Eddie showers Fletch with smooches and hugs. “I didn’t forget about you.”