"The dog. On the ladder."
"Not exactly. So, the guy is going up the ladder backward, one arm around the dog, which is kind of hanging onto whatever portion of lap the guy can keep available. The guy hitches himself up slat by slat, very slowly, very carefully, while the woman stays a couple of slats below him on the ladder so she can break the fall of the dog if the guy can’t hang onto it."
He lifted his pack, set it to his left so it was no longer between us, and pulled a phone out of one of the pockets. He shifted himself close to me as he swiped through his photos.
"You gotta see this."
He’d shot a short video of the trio. Their progress was slow and looked painful.
Conroy leaned closer. "Watch the expression on the dog’s face."
I could smell Conroy’s sun-warmed skin. It was hard
