I had no comeback for that.
Sharon sipped her coffee, clearly enjoying my suffering. “At least tell me the mare's okay.”
“She'll be fine. Gave her some mineral oil, walked her for two hours until things started moving.” I grimaced at the memory. “I still smell like a horse despite a shower, and my boots are in the truck bed airing out.”
“Lovely.”
The phone rang. Sharon grabbed it without looking, still watching me with that motherly concern that made me want to crawl under something.
“Sterling Animal Clinic.” Her tone shifted from maternal to professional in half a second. “Yes, Frank. Slow down—what?”
I pulled up the appointment schedule on my phone. Eight o'clock, Mochi. Standard checkup for Mrs. Yamamoto's ancient Persian who ate better than I did. Nine-thirty, Sullivan Farm. Buddy's annual checkup. Walt always had coffee ready and paid on time. Two bright spots in what was shaping up to be another brutal day.
“Behind the dumpster? How long has it been there?”
My attention drifted back to Sharon. Her expression had gone soft, which meant?—
No. Absolutely not.
“Eating trash... yes, I understand. Hold on.”
She pressed the phone to her shoulder. “Frank found a puppy behind the diner. Sounds young. Terrified. Won't let anyone near it.”
I stared at my coffee like it held answers. It didn't.
Twelve dogs. I hadtwelve dogsin the barn already. The roof leaked in three places. Two of the kennels needed new latches. I was feeding them with money that should've gone toward fixing my porch before someone fell through it.
“Cal?”
“The barn's full.”
“I know.”
“I can't—” The words stuck in my throat like they always did.Can't take another one. Can't afford it. Can't keep doing this.
Except I could see it already. Some scrawny puppy digging through garbage because it was starving. Flinching away from people because humans had already taught it the world wasn't safe.
You're an idiot.
“Tell Frank I'll swing by after Mochi's appointment.”
Sharon's expression didn't change, but something in her eyes looked almost sad. “You sure?”
“No.”
She relayed the message while I tried to calculate how I'd fit another dog into a barn that was already past capacity. The math didn't work. It never did.
Sharon hung up and immediately opened a notebook. “We need to get some of these dogs adopted.”
“I know.”
“I'm serious, Cal. You can't keep taking in strays if there's nowhere to put them.”
I drained my coffee, wishing it would magically refill itself. “There aren't that many people looking to adopt.”
“Doesn't help if they don't know about the dogs.” She clicked her pen with the precision of a woman preparing for battle. “We should put up flyers. Post on social media. Maybe set up an adoption day at the farmers' market.”
“I don't have time to?—”
