A found dog, an annoying flatmate and a dying father converge in this short story that kicks off with a 33rd birthday
By Laura Catherine Brown for Flash Fridays by Tin House, part of the Guardian Books Network
A week after I turned thirty-three, I was listening to cello music on internet radio, contemplating that this was my Jesus year, when my roommate called to say she’d found this dog wandering alone, tagless, no collar, by the Hudson River. She’s sweet and friendly, my roommate said. What should I do?
Don’t bring her home, I said. Take her right to the shelter. But my roommate had logistical reasons for coming home: no purse, no cash, needing to change her shoes. So, that day, I got a fuzzy little mutt with one crooked ear.
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