The poodle clambers onto Sue’s lap.

“You’re not dying,” Shelby says. She sounds unconvincing even to herself.

Sue snuggles the puppy and whispers something to him.

“Fine. He’s cute,” Shelby admits. “He’s like a cotton ball.”

“I want him more than I’ve ever wanted anything,” Sue says.

Shelby heads over to the salesgirl, who is letting some teenagers play with the golden retriever.

“We’ve got a problem with the puppy.” Shelby reaches into her backpack and brings out her old ID, from when she was still the manager of a sister store.

“I didn’t know you were a manager.” The salesgirl is nervous.

“I’m taking that puppy to a veterinary hospital. I think it may have some medical issues. Ever hear of kennel cough?”

“I didn’t hear him cough,” the girl says, flustered.

“Get your hearing checked,” Shelby suggests.

Shelby briskly returns to the play area, where she’s left her mother. She picks up the poodle. “Let’s go.”

Sue follows her through the pet food aisle. “We still have the poodle,” she says, confused.

Shelby grabs two cans of puppy food and stuffs them into her backpack.

“Shelby! Are you crazy?”

“We’re taking this dog. We’re liberating him.”

“That salesgirl is going to get fired, Shelby. I won’t have it!”

They’ve come to the checkout, so Shelby stops and shows her ID to an older man working the register. “I’m taking this puppy to be seen by a vet. The girl in the back had no choice but to let me take him.”

The older man glances at her ID card. “Okay, Miss Richmond.”

They walk quickly, and when they get to the parking lot, they run. They get into the car, laughing like wild women.

“He called you Miss Richmond,” Sue says. “That’s a first.”

Shelby hands the poodle to her mother. “Happy?” she says.

“Oh, Shelby, he is the cutest thing. Your father’s going to have a fit, not that I give a damn.” Sue pets the dog curled up in her arms, his nose hidden in her sweater. “Hi, Buddy,” she says.

“Tell me you’re not calling him Buddy.”

“Yes I am. And when I die and you come to get him, I want you to go on calling him Buddy.”

They drive along Main Street. They’re not stopping at the wig store. Instead they go to the park and let Buddy play in the grass. He pees first thing while Sue and Shelby sit on the bench near a picnic table. Shelby takes out the rest of the joint she began in the car.

“Are you going to get arrested for stealing the puppy?” Sue asks.

“The cops have bigger criminals to go after.” Shelby lights up and inhales.

Sue studies her. “I hear it helps people with nausea and pain.”

“So they say.”

Sue takes the joint, inhales, then starts to cough.

“Keep the smoke in,” Shelby advises.

“Kennel cough,” Sue says, and they both laugh. Sue inhales a few more times. “It doesn’t do a thing,” she insists.

Shelby retrieves the puppy and has it sit in Sue’s lap again. She thinks of all the dreams her mother had. “Want to go to California?” Shelby asks. “I’m at your service. I’ll do whatever you want.”

“I don’t care about California. I love you more than anything in the world, Shelby. More than my own life. More than Buddy.”

“You’ve only known Buddy for an hour,” Shelby jokes.

“Love has nothing to do with time or space.” Sue takes another puff. “This is so weird.”

“What?” Shelby smiles. Her mother sounds like a little girl again.

“I really want ice cream. I haven’t been hungry for weeks.”

“Let’s go to Baskin-Robbins.”

They walk back to the car, Buddy in Sue’s arms.

“Your favorite was always cherry vanilla,” Sue says. “I like pistachio.”

“Dad always brought you chocolate.”

“That’s how much he knew me,” Sue says, as if their relationship was already in the past.

The puppy has fallen asleep, wrapped in Sue’s sweater. He looks perfectly comfortable. A white cotton ball.

“This is my perfect day,” Sue says once they’re settled in the car again. She reaches into her purse and brings out a card. “I’ve been carrying this around to give to you.”

Shelby feels a rush of some raw emotion she can’t place.

“From your angel,” Sue says.

“Is it Helene?” Shelby asks.

“No. Helene can’t get out of bed, honey. You know that. Your angel is a big man. Like a wrestler. Maybe a sumo wrestler.”

Shelby laughs.

“He left his car running,” Sue says, “so he could make his getaway if anyone saw him. I was watching through the living room window the whole time. He waved to me.”

Shelby grins. Her mother really is stoned. “And did he have wings?”

Sue laughs. “Of course not! Let’s get serious here. Let’s go get our ice cream. I’m starving.”

Sue hands over the postcard, and Shelby studies the photo. It’s her in her fourth-grade class photograph. There she is, in the front row. She looks so cute, with her long brown hair and her frilly dress. She has a big smile, as if she’s sure of a bright future. Shelby turns the card over. She feels a tightness in her chest. Love something.

Her mother is stroking the little dog. “You’re my baby,” she says.

The afternoon has turned gray. Rain will soon fall. Shelby had planned to take the train back to the city after supper, but she decides to stay and sleep on the couch. She used to read piles of fairy tales. Her favorites were always tales of transformation: brothers who became swans, beasts who hid their kind hearts. She always put her faith in animals rather than in human beings. After they went to Chinco­teague, Shelby begged her mother for a horse. Sue said their neighborhood wasn’t zoned for horses, so instead they went out to a farm in Blue Point, where they fed someone’s ponies handfuls of hay. It has taken her this long to realize how cold it was that day, and how her mother was shivering, but still stood with Shelby in the barn for over an hour.