My phone rings, the sound distracting the pup long enough for her to drop Kayla’s hair. I pry the device from the pocket of my jeans, a number I don’t recognize flashing on the screen before I answer the call.
“Hey, Doc,” a deep, hoarse voice replies. “It’s Ron Phillips.”
“Mr. Phillips,” I say over June Bug’s shrill barks, as Kayla tries to quiet her with a stuffed donut toy. “It’s good to hear from you.”
“Call me Ron,” he corrects me with a soft chuckle. “Mr. Phillips makes me sound old, and heaven knows, I don’t need any help with that. Sounds like Junie’s showing you her vocal range.”
I laugh. “That she is.”
“How’s she doing?”
I grit my teeth as June Bug drops the toy and heads straight for Catrick Swayze, who’s sauntered into the living room. Before my sweet orange fluff ball knows what’s happening, the pup is mounting him, but because she’s knee-high to a grasshopper, she ends up hugging his back leg.
“No,” Kayla shout-whispers. “You’re breaking the first rule of being a good houseguest. Thou shalt not hump the cat.”
I choke on a laugh as Kayla manages to distract the pup long enough for Catrick Swayze to scamper away.
“She’s doing great,” I say. “I examined her as promised and got her up-to-date on her vaccinations.”
Technically, the little Maltese/Yorkie mixishealthy, but I’m convinced the pup is also part alligator. Her mouth is maybecapable of opening two inches wide if she tries really hard, yet she managed to chew the bottom corner off my bathroom door while I was in the shower this morning, and the little devil barked for hours last night. She’s the cutest holy terror that ever existed, and I cannot wait for her to go home.
“How are you feeling?” I ask.
“Well, I had surgery yesterday evening.” His voice is still raspy, undoubtedly from the breathing tube they’d used during his procedure. “I’m still pretty weak, as you can imagine, but they’re kicking me out of here tomorrow.”
“I’m sure you’ll be glad to get home,” I say. “And I know June Bug misses you.”
There’s a long pause on the other end. “Well, that’s actually what I called to talk to you about. My son, Hudson, came down from Cincinnati, and he’s insisting I go home with him for a few days while I get back on my feet. He’d stay with me, but that would be a little too long for him to be away from work.”
“Oh, okay. Does that mean he'll be picking her up?” I ask.
“That’s the thing.” Another pause. “His wife is a bit particular and won’t allow animals in the house, so I was wondering if you and your sister would mind keeping her a little while longer? And of course, I would pay you for the trouble.”
Now I’m the one pausing.
“I can see if I can arrange to have her boarded somewhere,” he goes on. “I know she’s a handful.”
“No, no.” I wince, summoning all the holiday spirit I can muster. “I’ll keep her, and there’s no payment needed. You focus on getting better, okay?’’
“Are you sure?” he asks tentatively, as Kayla rises to her feet and folds her arms across her chest, wearing a stony expression.
“Absolutely. Just let me know when you’re back, and I’ll get June Bug home to you.”
“I owe you one, Doc.” Ron breathes a sigh of relief. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome, Ron. Feel better, and we’ll talk soon.”
I end the call and stare at the phone in my hand for a moment.
“Ow!” Kayla bounces away from the pup who has decided to attack her ankles. “Please tell me the Fluff Ness Monster is going home.”
“Um…well…”
She yelps, seeking refuge by jumping on the sofa. “No! How much longer?”
“A while.”
“How long is a while?”
