“You could have, you know,” I told him. “We could have put him in with Frida and the puppies, since they all seem to get along so well.”
Ben shook his head. “No, he would have gotten wet. I wouldn’t want him to track mud all over your floors.”
It was debatable how much mud one small dog could track into a house — especially since there really wasn’t much in the way of mud between Ben’s house and mine — but I didn’t protest. There would be plenty of time for Rufus to have a play date with Frida and the puppies, since they would be with us for at least the next six or seven weeks, possibly longer.
“It’s interesting what you’ve done with the house,” Ben went on.
I lifted my glass of wine and took a sip. Still holding it near my mouth, I said, “‘Interesting’ in that you actually find it in
