When a Scruffy Little Dog Refused to Let an Old Woman Disappear

of Clara, the eighty-year-old widow who sat in booth four every morning.

But today, booth four was empty. And Barnaby was alone.

He wasn’t wearing a collar. Instead, strapped around his small chest was a homemade denim saddlebag, faded and fraying at the edges. He shook the snow off his coat, let out a sharp bark, and trotted purposefully toward the continue reading …