Last Chance Saloon
After the meal Nora went back to Dylan’s house to watch the Ryan Bailey movie.
They had a half-drunk bottle of wine that the restaurant let them take home.
Her self-justification regarding going to Dylan’s was that he was sweet and open
and would reveal a lot about their life without having to pry too deep.
He lived in a small terraced house on Huxley Avenue that he had inherited from his mum.
The house was made even smaller by the amount of dogs there. There were five that Nora could see, though there may have been more lurking upstairs.
Nora had always imagined she liked the smell of dog, but she suddenly realised there was a limit to this fondness.
Sitting down on the sofa she felt something hard beneath hera plastic ring for the dogs to gnaw on.
She put it on the carpet amid the other chew toys. The toy bone. The foam yellow ball with chunks bitten out of it.
A half-massacred soft toy. A Chihuahua with cataracts tried to have sex with her right leg.
“Stop that, Pedro,” said Dylan, laughing, as he pulled the little creature away from her.
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