Page 2 of Rangers Mountain Rescue

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And fallen asleep in my favorite chair.

“This is temporary,” I announce to the room.

The dog opens one eye.

Does not move.

Saint looks at me over Emmy’s head. “What if he belongs to someone?”

“Then someone should come get him,” I say.

The dog sighs and puts his head on my boot.

Traitor.

By nightfall, the mutt has:

A blanket

A name Saint’s fault — “Ranger”

And a place on the couch

I am not responsible for any of this.

I am just… apparently where he stands.

I kneel down and look him in the face.

“You can stay one night,” I tell him. “Then you’re gone.”

He licks my nose.

I close my eyes.

“This is a mistake,” I say.

The dog wags.

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