Excerpt: 'Dog Crazy' by Meg Donohue

Meg Donohue, author of Dog Crazy, shares an excerpt from her new release.

Meg: In Dog Crazy, narrator Maggie Brennan is a pet bereavement therapist who uses a mix of humor, empathy and insight to guide her patients through difficult times. When Henry Ravenhurst asks her to help Anya, his teenage sister, Maggie realizes that she will have to employ unusual tactics to help the girl. Anya refuses to grieve for Billy, her long-missing dog, and will not take time away from her search to visit Maggie's office. In lieu of office visits, Maggie agrees to walk with Anya as she looks for her dog. At first, Henry is skeptical of the plan — he feels that Maggie is only encouraging Anya's denial — but eventually he comes around to see that Maggie has found a way to truly help his sister. In this scene, Henry arrives at Maggie's apartment to apologize for his frustration with her, and it's the first scene in which they become aware of the spark that burns between them.

EXCERPT

"Well, you better decide one way or the other," I say. "It appears some of my toes are turning blue."

Henry smiles. "I won't take up too much of your time."

I wave him inside and shut the door behind him. "Have a seat. Can I get you something to drink?"

Henry sits in the yellow armchair. "Actually," he says, sounding a bit sheepish, "I brought this." He unzips his bag and pulls out a bottle of wine.

"Well, that's terribly selfish. Did you bring anything for me?"

Henry looks confused. Then he laughs. "I suppose I could share," he says. "If you're thirsty."

I take a few moments longer than necessary rifling through a kitchen drawer for the wine opener, trying to gather my thoughts. Other than Lourdes, Leo, and my patients, Henry is the only person I've invited into my apartment since I moved in. My pulse quickens. I'm not anxious, though; I'm nervous. It's an important distinction. I take a deep breath and head back into the living room with the opener and two glasses.

"So," I say, setting the glasses in front of him on the coffee table and handing him the opener, "to what do I owe this pleasure?"

Henry's sheepish look returns as I settle into the couch across from him. "The wine is an apology," he says, maneuvering the cork out with the opener. He pours the dark red wine into the glasses and passes one to me. "And a thank-you. Now that I think of it, maybe I should have brought two bottles."

We clink our glasses together. The wine is rich and warming, perfect for a foggy night like this one, and I feel it in my head immediately. I remind myself that it's my third glass; I'll have to be careful.

"One bottle is plenty," I tell Henry. "A bottle of wine is like the word 'aloha,' it can mean several things at once. Hello, good- bye ..." I trail off. The other thing "aloha" means, of course, is "I love you." S***, I think. I might already be drunk.

"Slow down, Maggie," he says, his eyes full of good humor. "We barely know each other."

I take another sip of wine as I recover from my embarrassment. "So tell me more about this apology."

Henry nods. "It's overdue, really. I didn't get a chance to say anything after that walk to Kite Hill because we had to race off to the hospital—"

"I was so glad to hear from Anya that Rosie is doing better."

"Well, she's out of the hospital at least. I hope Anya doesn't think that means she's in the clear, though." He shakes his head. "But I'm not here to talk about Rosie. I just wanted you to know that I saw how Anya responded to you during that walk. She really does think of you as a friend. She didn't want to see a therapist, and you could have left it at that. You could have just written her off. But you didn't. You found another way to help her, and you won't even accept payment for it." He looks down, studying his hands. "I'm ashamed of the way I acted when we first met. So I want to apologize."

"You were only trying to protect Anya. She's lucky to have you in her life, looking out for her."

"Well, now I realize that she's lucky to have you in her life. I'm sorry I didn't see it sooner. Anya told me that she went with you to take photos of that dog. Apparently, after she left you, she spent the rest of the day working on her computer. Not wandering around the city looking for Billy, not lying in bed and staring at the ceiling—working on those photos. Rosie's nurse said Anya even came downstairs at one point to make a grilled cheese sandwich. When I went over there tonight to check on Rosie, I saw the empty plate in Anya's room. She'd eaten it. The whole sandwich."

"And she survived?"

Henry laughs. "Yes, she ate something that she cooked, and lived to tell about it." His voice softens. "Really though, I'm just so relieved that she's starting to take care of herself. And that she's using her camera again ... Thank you."

"She's the one doing me a favor with the photos."

He gives me a look. "Maggie."

"Okay," I say, smiling. "You're welcome. And apology accepted. Now can I ask you something?"

"Of course."

"Did you buy her that camera?"

He nods. "For her fourteenth birthday. Did she tell you?"

"No, but I had a feeling. Billy, the camera ... you seem to anticipate your sister's needs."

"Except in your case. I didn't realize she needed a friend."

"You found me; you reached out to me. I wouldn't be in Anya's life if it weren't for you. I'd say you're three-for-three."

Henry smiles. He sits back in the armchair and turns his head from side to side, looking around the living room. "Where's Giselle?"

"Upstairs. She's not mine—I said that, didn't I? She belongs to my friend Lourdes, who lives upstairs. I rent this apartment from Lourdes and her husband, Leo."

"You mentioned it, but I thought maybe you were just saying it."

Find out more about Meg and her books at www.megdonohue.com.