On the spectrum of pet owners, from people who shouldn’t be trusted with keeping so much as a snail alive to those who name their pets in their will, Mrs. Perkins is clearly on the end that I will go out of my way to accommodate. “Mom? What do you think?” I already know the answer. Dad always got a kick out of strange requests owners made on behalf of their pets. To this day, I think his favorite story to tell is about the man who insisted my father speak directly to his dog and the man would translate the dog’s responses. Though, in that case, it had nothing to do with meeting the animal’s needs.
“Oh, my Sidney would be more than happy to oblige, I’m sure.” My mom nods her approval, her grin broad and genuine.
“Yeah, the only problem you might have is getting the wig back from him after.”
“That’s a relief to hear.” Mrs. Perkins’s shoulders sink as she tucks the wig back into her purse.
“So, Jackie’s pregnant? That’s why you’re here?” I steal a glance at the Jack Russell, sitting quietly in the chair, her midsection bulging and likely the only reason she isn’t investigating every corner. She looks young—less than a year old—and ready to deliver any day.
“They said there’s three in there. Her first veterinarian wanted to wait a cycle before he fixed her. I agreed, because what do I know? I’ve never owned a dog before. I got her after Ned passed. Anyway, it’s just me at home, my son’s living in California, and I’ve taken to chucking her into my neighbor’s yard to burn off some of that energy with Dax, their husky.” She shakes her head, her face a mask of bewilderment. “No one told me he wasn’t neutered! Imagine my shock when I saw what he was doin’ to my sweet Jackie that day!”
I stifle my laughter.
She peers at her dog, her face a mix of adoration and concern. “I’m eighty-three years old. What on earth am I going to do with a litter of puppies?”
The struggle in her voice tugs at my heart. “We can help you find homes for them, if you’d like.”
“Vets do that?”
“I do that. Sometimes.” When it’s warranted, and in just a few minutes, I’ve learned more than enough about Mrs. Perkins to know that she can barely manage little Jackie, let alone the energy of three Husky Jacks. I gesture toward the first door. “Why don’t you two head into exam room one. I’ll be there in a minute.” Cory squeezed this appointment in before a morning of surgeries, and we have several patients coming in to be prepped for surgery soon, so the sooner I can shuttle Mrs. Perkins and Jackie out, the better for all.
With a smile, she leads the pregnant dog into the room.
“Tell me I didn’t just earn myself three new dogs?” my mom whispers, and I can’t get a read on her tone, whether it’s humor or panic. Maybe it’s both.
“Relax. Puppies are way easier to place than old sled dogs. We’ll figure it out,” I promise around a sip of coffee from my travel mug, reaching down to test a leaf on the fake plant Calla dropped off while I was delivering Nala’s puppies. “What all’s on the schedule for today again?”
“Well, you have an appointment at six tonight at Tyler’s.”
“Yeah, I remember—”
“I’ll bet you do.” Cory leans against the desk, chin propped in her hand. “So?”
Beside her, my mother adjusts her glasses and feigns deep concentration on the computer screen. Clearly, they’ve been gossiping. I don’t doubt that my mother hovered at the kitchen window, noting when Tyler’s truck pulled away just before eleven, much to my dismay.
“So, what?” I try to play clueless, but it lasts all of three seconds before the foolish grin stretches across my face.
“I knew it!” Cory explodes. “I knew it was only a matter of time!”
My mom’s face lights up. “Will he be coming to Sunday dinner again?”
Shaking my head, I leave the two of them to their squeals as I head for the exam room, my hope riding on a cloud.
* * *
I hum to the song on the radio as I coast up Tyler’s driveway, hoping the simple act will allay the nervous flutters in my stomach. Last night was unexpected, and I’m still reeling from it. But I don’t regret it or the possibilities that might transpire.
What Tyler does to my heart …
This is happening, and in the most unconventional way.
So many people find the start of a relationship exciting, but I’ve always found it more unsettling than anything. If you get past the first few dates and decide you want more, you’re in an all-consuming testing stage—uncovering delightful secrets that make you fall harder while discovering flaws that will endear or annoy you, or both, catching glimpses of troublesome things that you downplay or pretend don’t exist because you’re focused on the here and now. You might faintly wonder about five, ten, twenty years down the road, but you can’t see it. You make your decisions for your future based on what you want to see.