One Day My Boyfriend Said He Didn’t Know Me Chapter 10
Six months later, I rented a small studio with a window in the south end of the city.
Three pots of mint lined the windowsill.
Downstairs was a pet shop.
In the afternoons, I could always hear the sound of dog paws tapping across a wooden floor.
After the touring exhibition ended, the organizers wired the first-place prize money in two installments.
I used one to buy a new camera.
The other covered six months of rent on the studio.
The landlady came by with the keys and happened to bring a bag of dog food.
“The pet shop next door picked up a yellow dog. Getting on in years. Apparently someone found him wandering.”
She looked at me.
“Want to go take a look?”
My hand stopped on the key.
A string of bells hung above the pet shop door.
When I pushed it open, several small dogs burst into a chorus of barking.
At the very back, beside the last cage, an old man was crouched down, brushing a yellow dog’s fur.
The dog lifted its head. Its ears twitched.
I froze where I stood.
The old man turned around.
“You know this one?”
I reached for the cage door, my eyes burning.
The yellow dog inched closer and pressed its nose against the back of my hand.
It was thinner. A patch of fur was missing on its right leg. But its tail was wagging fast.
I crouched down and called to it softly through the bars.
“Buddy.”
He lunged against the door, his paws gripping the bars, a low whimper rising from his throat.
The shop owner unlocked the cage with a key.
Buddy burst out, circled me once, then buried his head in my arms.
I held him tight.
His fur left gray streaks all over my coat.
The old man stood nearby and explained.
“About six months ago, someone dumped him near the old market. A car spooked him, and he hid under a vegetable stall. I was the one who picked him up.”
“I’m too old to take care of him, so I had someone bring him here to find a new home.”
The shop owner handed me a registration form.
“He had no tag and no name. We checked with several pet shops—couldn’t find anything. That’s the only reason he’s still here.”
Buddy nuzzled his head against my knee.
I rubbed his ear.
“Let’s go.”
The shop owner smiled.
“You sure you want to take him?”
“I’m sure.”
“He’s getting old. He might get sick down the road, and he might not adjust well to a new place.”
That was fine.
As long as it was Buddy, none of that mattered.
Buddy looked up at me, tongue lolling, his warm breath brushing against my wrist.
I filled out the registration form and signed my name.
The shop owner handed me the leash.
As I took it, the bells above the door chimed softly.
That night, I gave Buddy a bath.
He didn’t like the blow dryer and retreated to the corner of the couch, burying his head inside my coat.
I turned off the dryer and toweled his ears instead.
Buddy lifted his head from the coat and nudged my hand with his nose.
I draped the towel over his head.
“Hold still.”
He shook it off. The towel dropped to the floor.
I laughed and carried him to the window.
Down below, someone walked by with a dog on a leash, the chain clinking lightly.
Buddy pressed his face against the glass and watched for a while, then turned and dove back into my arms.
I held him close and shut the window.
“We’re home.”