I eased into the Uber’s back seat, spotting a hint of white fur.

“Her name’s Sandy,” the driver offered.

“Ah!”

I peered over, the front passenger seat revealing a sleeping pup.

“Are you a dog person?” he asked.

I shifted uncomfortably.

“I’m not anti-dog. I’m more of a cat person though.”

He didn’t seem fazed. He had a spiel ready.

“Well, I find that even cat people take a shine to Sandy,” he said.

“Ah…”

I poked my head over the seat again, taking her in.

She didn’t smell like some dogs did. Nor was she jumpy.

“You can hold her if you like.”

He wanted me to like her.

“Oh, thanks! OK!”

We were stalled in heavy traffic. My trip felt longer by the minute.

No phone scrolling for me.

He scooped Sandy up with his left hand and passed her to me.

Geez.

I had to respond to this “gift” of an Uber pet.

She fell easily into my lap.

“She’s very calm,” I offered.

Sandy’s ears popped up and she leaned her face towards the window. The wet, city night drew her eyes outside.

“She loves the view,” I said.

“Oh, she does!” he said.

He told me all the things he and Sandy did in a day.

They had regular clients, including a sex worker who felt safer when Sandy was in the car.

He spoke of women falling in love with him due to the way he cared for Sandy, and people who stayed in the car hours after their trip ended. Just to spend time with Sandy.

“She’s a healer,” he said.

“She heals people.

“I’ve had women sobbing in the car because all they needed after a night out was someone who’d love them unconditionally. And that someone was Sandy.”

“That’s beautiful,” I said.

“Sandy is beautiful,” he said.

My eyes scanned her white fur.

Her small frame.

She was trusting.

So trusting.

“Sandy helped me recover from my worst break-up ever,” the driver said.

I patted her head, watching the way her eyes darted from car to shiny car.

The traffic hardly moved as the rain came down in sheets.

I’d had a long day.

My head felt fuzzy from trying hard to prove myself.

Yet all that mattered now was Sandy.

I had nothing to prove to her.

And it felt good.

“That’s amazing,” I said, remembering his break-up story.

“Sandy has special powers.”

“She sure does,” he replied.

I realised that Sandy was helping me breathe after a day of holding my breath.

“Thank you, Sandy,” I whispered as she rested her little head on my chest. My eyelids started to flutter shut.

When I woke up, I was home.

“We’re here,” he said.

“Oh! Thank you.

“And thanks to you, Sandy,” I said as I passed her back over the seat.

“You helped me a lot.”

“She has that effect on people,” he said.

I stumbled out of the car, my skirt shimmering with patches of sleek white fur.

I felt lighter.

Freer.

Maybe dogs were, in fact, better than cats.

And maybe it was true.

Maybe Sandy really did have healing powers…