Dog Lived (and So Will I) Read Online Free Page A

ear.
    Destiny had told me he’d been found by Animal Control roaming the streets of a nearby town, and no one had come to claim him at the pound. No one answered the phone when they tried the number listed in the microchip information either. When his time was up at the pound, she saw him and selected him for a second chance, bringing him and three other dogs back to the center where they would stay until homes were found for them. That was two days before she’d called me to give him that second chance.
    Sitting together on my couch, I petted and scratched the dog and found several favorite spots he wanted rubbed—his belly, behind his ears, the top of his round head. He was sweet, soft. And those kohl-lined eyes of melted chocolate melted my heart. He was young—only one or two years old. I’d have plenty of time with him, I assured myself. No more pain. No more heartbreak. Not for a long, long while.
    I continued to pet the dog, softly and slowly. My house wouldn’t be lonely anymore. My alphabet life was back on track. And this was a sweet, sweet dog. After a few minutes, Seamus moved his left front paw over my right leg and, looking up at me, leaning far into me, he claimed me as his own.

Chapter 2
MAN MEETS DOG
    “You got a dog?” Chris sounded incredulous and mildly frightened in our nightly phone call.
    “Yes. Another beagle. He’s soooooo cute. Wait till you meet him. You’ll love him.”
    “Okay. Well, I guess I’m just surprised. You hadn’t really mentioned that.”
    Was I supposed to? Had we crossed some threshold where I was now supposed to be getting his input on—or worse, his approval of—decisions I made? No! No, we certainly had not. “I wanted another dog. I’m sure I’d mentioned that much. Remember, my whole alphabet life? The ‘D’ part of it? That was for ‘dogs.’”
    “Oh, I’m aware of it. I just…well, I guess I thought you’d wait awhile.”
    Wait for what? “I didn’t exactly go looking, but the pet adoption center called and pretty much once they told me it was a beagle, I was a goner.”
    He paused, weighing his words. “I’m not much of a dog person.”
    Not a dog person? How had I missed that? I knew he was a Republican, and I overlooked that. I knew he was inappropriately young, and I was working on overlooking that. How did I miss that he was not a dog person? I looked down at Seamus, curled up on the pillow next to me. Seamus breathed in deeply and exhaled, his breath causing his jowls to flop noisily, as if to agree it was a ridiculous thought. Not a dog person?
    “Wow. I did not know that,” I said.
    “Is it a small dog?”
    “He’s a beagle.”
    “I heard that. But is it small?”
    “He’s not an it. And beagles are beagle-sized.”
    “That’s not helping. How big is he?”
    He doesn’t know how big a beagle is? He really was not a dog person. Further proof this could not be a relationship. “He weighs about thirty pounds. Oh, and I named him Seamus.”
    “I’m sure your cousin will be flattered. The good news is I’m mostly only afraid of big dogs. So we should be fine. I hope.”
    Afraid of big dogs? If I had a yard, now that I lived on my own, I’d have a Doberman and probably a German shepherd and another half dozen beagles, all adopted from the pet adoption center. I’d be that middle-aged, divorced woman stereotype, only with dogs instead of cats. And I was dating someone who was afraid of big dogs? How does my life get away from me like that?
    At least he was willing to meet Seamus. I hoped they’d get along, but I knew which one was staying if it came down to that. My week with Seamus had been challenging, but the little dog had kept me so entertained. My home was suddenly filled with energy. I’d almost forgotten how exuberant young dogs—and particularly beagles—can be. I walked Seamus in the mornings and again when I came home at night, but he’d still race around the house, throw his toys up in the air, and beg me to