Chapter 101

My mother’s doctor firmly says, “The answer is still ‘no.’ It’s way, way, waytoo risky.”

He overshot his wad with that third “way.”

I tip off Ruthie, who thinks she still might be allergic unless she’d outgrown it. She takes two Benadryl in advance.

Hayley is thankfully compliant when, after seeing that asshole’s car gone from his assigned space, I smuggle her into the hospital within a workout bag.

I am as thankful to the aide in the hallway who hears and ignores the small yips from the bag as I measure my pace toward 2012.

I place Hayley, freed, on the bed.

Her foxlike face sniffs Mom’s hand. She immediately lies down.

I take Mom’s hand to Hayley’s head, which bobs with joy at the reunion.

“Will you raise my Hayley?” Mom asks.

Hayley and I have mostly considered each other like two gunslingers on an endless final draw. I don’t know that I want another dog, ever, and not someone else’s.