Bill brought Rusty home the day after Christmas, the year of the record snowfall, a plump white puppy too cute to resist, filled with an abundance of exuberance. The two were best buds from the first night.
Ten years later, I was the Interloper who came onto the scene mid-way into the act and it was not love at first sight, not on Rusty’s side of the equation. Oh, he was charming enough during the initial greetings, it was later, after Bill and I sat down on the couch to watch a movie that his jealousy showed.
He wormed his way between us, giving me a look that said, "No one comes between me and my Dad."
When Bill gently moved him to the other side of the couch, he got down, shot us an insulted look and headed for the bedroom. I did not think much about it, but I should have. My purse was lying on the bed.