He backs away, chuckling. “Oh. Someone’s testy. I didn’t know you were a biter. Maybe you’re a bad, bad boy.”
“Among other things,” I chatter, share another growl.
Mr. Gray goes for a hearty sniff and lick between his legs. I can’t believe how far his long and pointed snout gets buried inside Putnam’s thighs; I’m sort of jealous. Why won’t Putnam let me bury my snout in his privates? Grrrrr.
He laughs, pushing the pooch away. “No…no…no, puppy.” Once he’s free of Mr. Gray’s intrusive sniffing, he looks up at the purple-blue-pink-red heavens, and asks me, “Beautiful evening, isn’t it?”
“Never had a better one here in Fairmont. Wish they were all like this.” I have a weak grip on Mr. Gray’s leash, point to the notebook on the steps, and inquiry, “Working on a new book or short story?”
“A
