From Lexie, With Love was entered in round two of the NYC Midnight Short Story Contest, 2023.

It was just a stupid chew toy—one of the many things her beloved rottie had rescued over the years. The squeaker in it stopped working a while ago, but she had to find it. She’d never lost any of Lexie’s treasures, and she refused to start now.

By the light of the range hood, Marie shoved aside the stack of vet bills. The hot pink dog collar, precariously balanced on the edge of the table, fell, hitting the kitchen tile with a sharp click.

Marie scooped up the collar and set it safely beside a matching leash at the other end of the table.

The clock over the sink read 5:26. Her neighbors would be awake in an hour or so.

Unwashed coffee mugs piled in the sink—not that she needed the caffeine to stay awake. Not since that last visit to the vet two days ago when she’d had to put her sweet Lexie to sleep.

Marie left the kitchen and rifled a box of dog toys near the couch, but the pink duck wasn’t in it. She should check the dog park again. Lexie might have taken it with her last week and not felt well enough to bring it home.

On the way to the bedroom to retrieve her purse, Marie almost knocked over the dented watering can she’d transformed into a flowerpot—another of Lexie’s prizes. It had been in the neighbor’s trash when Lexie saved it.

Sweater on and purse in hand, Marie reached for the front door.

Outside, something scratched twice, paused, scratched twice more. The same way Lexie used to.

But Lexie was gone.

Marie prepared to scold the neighbor’s golden retriever for escaping again, but when she opened the door, a rottweiler nosed inside. Its bright brown eyes and the lighter fur that tipped its tail were just like…

“Lexie?” Marie choked.

The dog planted its front paws on her shoulders, but Marie didn’t have to hold up eighty pounds of rottie this time, even though Lexie’s paws were firmly set, and she leaned close to lick Marie’s tear-stained cheeks, leaving them soft and dry.

She buried her face in Lexie’s silky fur and sobbed. “I missed you girl. I missed you so much!”

Lexie wagged her tail so hard it was an indistinct blur.

“Let’s get your collar on.” Though she didn’t want to, Marie let go of Lexie long enough to grab the collar and leash from the kitchen and run back to where Lexie waited, near the door, tail still wagging, tongue lolled a few inches to one side, just like she’d waited nearly every day for the past eight years.

A shaft of light from outside fell across Lexie, surrounding her in a golden glow.

“Want to go to the park?” Marie held up Lexie’s leash and collar.

Lexie yipped with the same excitement she’d had before she got sick.

Marie fastened Lexie’s collar and clipped on the leash. They were almost ready, but Lexie always brought her favorite toy with her to the park. “I’m sorry, girl… I can’t find your duck.” Tears stung her eyes. In admitting she’d lost Lexie’s toy, she was letting down her best friend.

Lexie didn’t seem concerned, and she happily trotted out the door, carrying nothing.

As they walked down the silent street, Lexie tugged Marie along faster, and they reached Midland Dog Park just after 6:15. No one was there, but Marie hadn’t expected anyone to be out this early.

Once inside the gate, Marie sat on a nearby bench, unclipped Lexie’s collar, and pocketed the leash.

Instead of racing into the open field, Lexie hopped onto the bench beside Marie and draped her head across her lap.

“I still have that clock—the one you found buried behind the house when we moved in.” Marie stroked Lexie’s soft ears and muzzle. “And the red frisbee you saved from the lake two years ago. I never told you, but it’s in the closet next to my garden shoes.” She pulled Lexie close. “I can’t sleep without you. You kick me and make it impossible to keep the covers…” Her voice thickened. “But I don’t know what to do now.”

Lexie nuzzled Marie’s hand and licked her face until she laughed.

Lexie jumped off the bench and raced into the park. She ran circles, leaped into the air, and flipped with the energy of a puppy before galloping back to Marie, grabbing her sweater sleeve, and gently tugging her off the bench.

Marie followed Lexie into the freshly cut grass.

Within seconds, Lexie brought Marie a sturdy maple stick and sat at Marie’s feet, staring up expectantly. The look of pure focus on Lexie’s face made Marie laugh again.

“You always did love to chase things.” Marie shook the stick until Lexie danced in anticipation. When she flung the maple branch toward the other end of the dog park, Lexie zoomed after it and raced back. “I wish I could find your duck,” Marie said as she took aim at another spot a little farther away than the first throw. “I searched the house ten times over the past two days, even came here twice, but I just can’t find it.”

Lexie waited for Marie to throw the stick. The instant it left Marie’s hand, Lexie was after it, and in moments, she was back with the stick.

“You always loved finding treasures for me.” Marie kneeled in front of Lexie and wrapped her arms around the dog’s neck. Though Lexie was panting from the run, no puffs of breath warmed Marie’s neck. She let go of Lexie and sat in the grass. “You looked out for me every day, didn’t you?”

Lexie seemed to smile just before she covered Marie’s face with more dry kisses. Before Marie could say anything else, Lexie darted away, heading across the park and disappearing into a stand of trees just inside the fence.

Several minutes passed, and Lexie didn’t return.

Marie dusted off her jeans and headed toward the trees. “Lexie?” she called. “Where’d you go, girl?”

The glaring streetlights lit ten feet into the trees. Sunrise was approaching, and already the gray of dawn tinged the horizon.

A faint whine came from farther inside the clump of trees.

“Lexie? Are you okay, girl? Lexie?” Marie hurried toward the sound. If something had happened to Lexie again—

Marie swiped away tears as she rounded a maple and almost tripped over a dirty puppy, huddled behind the tree. The dog stared at her with scared eyes, ready to run, but afraid to move.

“Hey, sweetie.” Marie stayed still. “Where’s your family?” The puppy was so dirty it was impossible to tell the shade of its coat, and it was too thin to be someone’s pet, but the dog looked to be a lab mix. “It’s okay, baby. I won’t hurt you.” She held out her hand, easing it toward the puppy slowly enough not to spook it.

The puppy, a girl, didn’t run, but it shook as Marie’s hand hovered closer.

When her fingers were inches from the puppy’s nose, the little dog took a cautious sniff. She must have smelled Lexie because she snuffed every inch of Marie’s palm and fingers with curiosity before her fear shifted to wary interest, and she licked Marie’s hand.

“You want to help me find my Lexie?” Marie whispered to the puppy as she crouched in front of her. “She came this way a few minutes ago.” She reached for the puppy, ready to stop if the little dog became upset or afraid, but the puppy eagerly shoved her head into Marie’s palm.

The puppy pulled away seconds later and pulled an object out of the dirt. In the dark, it was hard to tell what it was. Probably something the poor thing had found abandoned in the park.

“Lexie?” Marie called into the lightening gloom. “Where’d you go, girl?” She didn’t want to scare the puppy by calling too loudly, but she had to find her dog. The park fence was close, so Lexie couldn’t be much farther away, unless she’d jumped the fence, which wasn’t like her.

Marie called again, but still no Lexie.

She stood and backtracked. The puppy trotted after her, dirty prize still in her mouth.

Lexie’s pawprints should still have been fresh, but the only tracks Marie found were from a raccoon and a few squirrels.

As she approached the tree for the second time, the growing light of morning illuminated something pink and glinted off a bit of metal near the base of the tree. In the dirt, where the puppy had hidden, lay Lexie’s dog collar. The little heart-shaped tag was engraved with her name, and Marie’s phone number was etched on the back.

Marie retrieved the collar, brushing damp dirt off it as the puppy circled her legs and held up the old toy she’d found. Now with better light, Marie realized the puppy was carrying a smudged duck.

“Can I see that?” Marie tapped the duck before gently wiggling it from the puppy’s mouth. She rubbed a patch of dirt from the duck’s back.

The exposed rubber was bright pink.

Marie squeezed the duck, ready for an obnoxious honk.

Nothing.

It was Lexie’s missing chew toy.

“Where’d you find this, little girl?” Marie said to the puppy as she dried her eyes on her sweater sleeve again.

The puppy stared up at her and tipped her head to one side when Marie didn’t give the duck back right away.

Marie used her sweater to wipe clear more bits of damp dirt. Lexie had carried this thing everywhere: every trip to the store, every park visit, every vet appointment except those last few. And everything she’d rescued was unique, just like her, but more than that, she’d given every treasure to Marie. The only one she’d kept for herself was this silly pink duck, and now she’d given her favorite toy to another dog, one that had nothing. The puppy wasn’t even wearing a torn bandana or string of rope. No one wanted her.

“You knew I hated being alone,” Marie whispered over the battered toy, “so you brought me someone who needed love.” She surrendered the duck to the puppy. “If Lexie picked you…” Marie’s throat tightened as she adjusted the pink collar until it was small enough to fit the puppy. “I suppose it’s time… to take you home.” She clipped the collar around the puppy’s neck and clicked the leash on.

The puppy followed her out of the trees as the sky shifted from gray to orange, and streaks of vibrant pink hung on the horizon. A few people passed them as they took the sidewalk home, but no one commented on the mud-caked puppy.

When they got back, Marie put the puppy in the back yard with some food and water before dumping baby soap in a washtub and running the hose.

The puppy insisted on keeping Lexie’s duck with her, even when Marie plopped her into the tub and scrubbed dirt and grime out of her fur as the little dog played in the water.

Marie dodged the first few splashes, but soon the puppy doused her and made a game out of seeing how many times she could shower Marie. By the time the puppy was clean, Marie was soaked. She remembered the first bath she’d given Lexie, in this same washtub. She’d gotten drenched then too.

Without the layers of dirt to disguise it, the puppy’s beautiful black coat—the same color as Lexie’s—shone in the morning sun, and the muddy duck was as clean as a brand new one.

Marie rubbed the puppy dry with a thick towel. “All done.” She sluffed off muddy shoes and socks and stood barefoot on the back step, holding the door open until the puppy went in.

As the last bits of pink faded from the sky, Marie stepped inside too.