Her plastic après-surgery cone lay shredded in the center of the foyer, but no other damage met Carrie's eyes. She even walked through the house, checking in each room for ripped clothing, torn bedding, destroyed plaster and light fixtures, or half-eaten furniture. Nothing. Not even a pile of poop. Pretty amazing, considering she'd left the dog alone for twelve hours. Still, she felt guilty. She gave Ellie a big bowl of kibble and a dish of fresh water. While the dog ate, Carrie took a shower and thought about where to take her for a walk. Someplace close, where Ellie could run off her energy and she could make plans for moving back to Rhode Island. Back home. "I'll take you to the beach," she told El Beast, who walked sedately at the end of her leash and jumped into the van without one tug. Something had changed, Carrie thought, something that made her more of a pack leader and less of a tug toy. Zack.
