Free Yappy Hour by Diana Orgain

problem seemed even worse.
    â€œHand me that blanket, would you, Mags?” He pointed at a wool blanket that was haphazardly thrown on the arm of the sofa.
    I stepped over three stacks of newspapers and crossed to the sofa. I handed him the blanket, which he wrapped over his legs. I looked longingly at the window. I wanted to pry it open, but knew that Grunkly hated fresh air. He’d only tell me it was making him cold. As it was, the house smelled of stale cigarettes.
    There was no place for me to sit, except the couch, which was bulging with mail, some flimsy cardboard boxes, and a few soiled t-shirts. I picked my way through some items and moved a few things to the floor to clear a spot for myself in order to sit down. “Grunkly, do you know where Rachel is? Do you know anything about a cruise or her eloping?”
    Grunkly waved the remote control at me. “Two minutes to post, Magpie.”
    â€œGrunkly! I found a dead guy yesterday, at Rachel’s bar!”
    He shook his head. “That’s terrible,” he said, in the most insincere tone possible, which clearly telegraphed he wasn’t listening at all.
    â€œGrunkly—”
    â€œAh ha.”
    â€œIs that all you have to say?”
    â€œIt certainly is exciting.” He held up a finger to silence me.
    I fidgeted on the couch. I knew I had to either turn off the TV and risk his wrath or just wait the three minutes for the race to finish. The bugle sounded and the horses were off. Grunkly’s pick, Winged Arrow, started out strong.
    â€œGo, baby, go!” Grunkly yelled.
    Winged Arrow rounded the first lap fast, neck and neck with Zesty Marzipan. The announcer’s voice blared out through the speakers: “Zesty Marzipan is favored to win, but Winged Arrow is making a good show.”
    â€œGo Winged Arrow,” I cried, getting caught up in the excitement.
    Winged Arrow lurched forward, pulling into the lead.
    Oh my God, Winged Arrow was going to win!
    â€œCome on, Winged Arrow, come on!” I yelled.
    Another horse rounded out the top tier and Winged Arrow fell behind a bit, neck and neck with the other horse.
    Grunkly stood and shook his fists at the TV. “Go, Winged Arrow, go!”
    Another horse approached, and Winged Arrow fell to third.
    â€œOh no!” I said.
    â€œGet the lead out!” Grunkly screamed.
    Suddenly they rounded the last corner and another horse passed Winged Arrow. Then another.
    â€œNo! No!” Grunkly said.
    Winged Arrow gave it all he had, but it looked like he was running out of steam. One by one, each horse passed him.
    Grunkly clasped his head in his hands. “No, no, no!”
    â€œAnd Zesty Marzipan wins by a nose, followed by Night Runner in second and Daisy Mama in third. Winged Arrow brings up the rear,” the announcer said.
    Grunkly slumped back into his chair; his shoulders caved in and he looked completely defeated. “Dead last!” he said.
    â€œYeah, sorry about that, Grunkly.” I surprised myself by actually caring. Watching the horse race had been exciting, not to mention a stress release, but winning would have been much better—now it was just more of a damper on my mood.
    We sat in silence for a moment, and then Grunkly flicked off the TV. He turned to me. “So, how are you doing, Magpie? Any news?”
    â€œWell, yes, thanks for asking. The manager at DelVecchio’s is dead. And Rach is missing. One of the doggie ladies said she thought she eloped.”
    Grunkly scratched his chin. At his age, he was pretty hard to shock, but I got the distinct impression I’d done just that. After a moment, he said, “I can’t believe that. Missing? Eloped? That’s nonsense!”
    â€œBut I don’t know where she is. I can’t explain it. And worse, I think the manager from DelVecchio’s was threatening Rachel about bringing in the health department … it makes it look like she had