The lady was walking toward them, holding out her arms to take Betty. They walked back through the rain to the car, which was parked in an apartment building parking lot very close by. The man drove and the lady cradled Betty and whispered. The kids, from the back seat, asked questions and tried to squirm out of their seats to pet Betty and kiss her sweet ears.
The girl started to cry and the boy covered his ears, just to hear that Betty was groggy and had an incision that would take time to heal. When they got home, the man went ahead to unlock the housedoor, but the lady stood with Betty curled in her arms, while the two kids cooed and petted her nervously. It was only three in the afternoon and they had homework to do, but they could think of nothing but Betty. It was odd to see her so calm and still like this.
The kids made a bed of blankets on the couch and the lady set her gingerly on it. Betty stayed there, curled on the foggy couch while the kids did their homework on the coffeetable and watched her. The man worried that she hadn't eaten, hadn't gone outside, but the lady said wait. Just let her sleep now. Betty wasn't thinking of eating or peeing or puppies or even wounds that would heal. She was dreaming with her eyes open, about a foggy house and a pile of blankets that smelled like the kids and the man's voice surrounding her like music and the lady's soft kisses on her head.
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