“Oh, please, Arch, I’m not going to mistreat him, and this is for Marla—”
Arch turned to go up the stairs. “C’mon Jake, let’s go to my room.”
“Wait, honey, wait.” He stopped and gave me a hostile gaze. “Okay, Arch, you can come. But you have to promise to obey me if we get into a dicey situation.”
“Dicey how?”
“I’m not quite sure yet. Please just go pack up clothes for an overnight. As if you were going camping,” I added.
I ran up to Tom’s and my room. The clock said three-fifteen. Dicey how? Good question. I packed some warm clothes. In the kitchen, I loaded paper bags with Jake’s spare leash, kibble, homemade dog biscuits, and large plastic bags as well as small ones that zipped closed. I scribbled a note to Tom, telling him not to worry, no matter what happened. Then I glanced arou
