Free Sleep With The Lights On by MAGGIE SHAYNE Page A

Rache. You’ve got all this room. The place is already fenced in. You can afford to hire someone to take care of her—hell, I’ll take care of her. For free. And she’s just such a great dog, and she’s so quiet you don’t even know she’s here.”
    Not you won’t even know she’s here, but you don’t even know...
    “Just meet her, okay?”
    I closed my eyes. “She’s in my house, isn’t she?”
    “Once I saw her, I just couldn’t say no. She’s in the garage.”
    Of course she was. It’s not like I had a fleet of cars taking up space in the attached three-car garage. Hey, there was a notion. I could buy a car now. Of course I’d need a license first, which would mean learning to drive. Who the hell would have the patience to teach me? Fuck them, I’d teach myself. Practice in the driveway.
    Amy took my hand. “Come on.”
    Right. The dog. The invader in my domain. I would nip this little scheme in the bud right now.
    Amy all but dragged me across the huge kitchen, enthusiastic now that she’d broken the news. It was stainless steel and white. In fact most of the rooms on this floor were white, and that was going to have to change. The place needed color. Or maybe I needed it. Splashes of brightness everywhere. Why waste eyesight on white? We stopped at the door that led directly into the garage, Amy opened it up and said, “Myrtle?”
    Myrtle? Is she fucking serious?
    Something moved in the shadows. There was a snuffling, a snorting and then, I’m pretty sure, a fart. Amy reached around and snapped on a light switch I hadn’t even known was there— note to self, find and memorize locations of light switches . And then it came shuffling and snuffling toward us, and my newborn eyes widened as this short, fat, squish-nose creature that did not really look much like any dog I’d ever seen waddled closer, not stopping until its head bumped my shin. And then it sniffed and looked up.
    “Playing tricks on the formerly blind girl, are you, Amy? Thinking I don’t know a dog from a potbellied pig?”
    “She’s an English bulldog,” Amy said, hunkering down to scratch its fat little head. “Aren’t you, Myrtle? Yeah, you’re just a pretty little boodog, aren’t you?”
    Myrtle closed her eyes, sucking up the affection like a sponge.
    “Did you just say ‘boodog’?” I asked.
    “She needs us, Rache. She’s old.”
    “She smells it.” The dog’s earlier emission was wafting to my nose now, and I waved a hand in front of my face and tried to blink back tears.
    “And she’s blind.”
    I looked down again. I didn’t notice the smell anymore, and I was pretty sure that was because she’d sort of skewered my heart with that last revelation. “That’s not even close to fair, Amy.”
    “Look, if you don’t want her, fine. Just let her stay until I can find someone else to take her. Please? She won’t last a day in the pound.”
    The dog hit me in the shin with one forepaw.
    “I should fucking fire you for this,” I told Amy, struggling to hold on to my bitchiness and not reveal that my insides were melting like ice cream in the sun. “Fine. Fine, one week. You find this dog a home in one week.” No way in hell is anyone else getting this dog in a week . “Got it?”
    She smiled at me, and I realized I hadn’t been close to understanding what a “shit-eating grin” looked like until right then. Bitch knew me too well.
    * * *
     
    Amy left. Myrtle did not. Amy had efficiently left a royalty check’s worth of dog supplies in the garage. I had no idea where they’d been before, but they were all over the place now.
    I decided not to let this momentary digression distract me from doing exactly what I had planned to do. I walked through my house, taking it in visually, loving it more than I ever had before but making a mental list of things I wanted to change. To brighten up. To decorate differently, or decorate at all. My bedroom and office were all but barren.
    I did all of this with