Chapter 103: It's No Good

It does no good. By the time I'm able to pull open her jaws and look inside her mouth, the bar of soap is gone.

"Oh no. No, no, no." I jog to the bathroom off the master bedroom. "No, no, no."

I rip the curtain back. A few rings come loose, so it sags in the middle. There, on the edge of the tub, where my rather expensive, homemade, all-organic soap normally sits, is an empty space. It's cute little porcelain dish empty, the dish unbroken but laying sideways on the bathroom mat.

"Oh, Frankie."

A few seconds pass while I mourn the loss of my favorite oatmeal soap. The heavenly bar is only available during the summer farmer markets every Thursday in downtown Pelican Bay. Every fall, I buy two bars. It's enough to get me through the winter months. Thankfully, Frankie caught me at the tail end of my first bar, so she didn't ingest an entire thing.

Still, organic soap or not, it can't be good for dogs.

Frankie nudges the back of my leg with her nose. She looks the same, but I ca