Page 71 of Never Too Late to Date

Alex turned on his million-dollar smile for a fraction of a second.

‘And please don’t stop singing on my account. It would be a shame to deprive the animal world. Who needs medication when Dolly Parton’s in town?’

Vicky focused hard on the liquid soap dispenser as they washed their hands side by side in the large trough of a sink with its row of taps.

Dolly was overjoyed to be released from her confines, and Vicky’s face was wet in seconds with all the licking. She’d managed to give the dog the equivalent of a bed bath yesterday, avoiding her stitches, so she was sweet-smelling again and white in colour instead of a grubby grey.

Vicky placed her carefully on the table, holding onto the injured leg all the time while Alex syringed the antibiotics into Dolly’s mouth. Afterwards he transferred the little dog back to her cage with the utmost care, and they were soon side by side scrubbing their hands again. Alex reached for a paper towel first and wrote a couple of things down in Dolly’s treatment book.

‘She’s a brave little thing, isn’t she? We did a good job.’

It was the first sensible thing he’d said all morning.

Vicky risked a smile of her own.

‘We definitely did.’

Alex took a toy from his pocket and went to place it into Dolly’s cage, a little rubber mouse with fabric ears, which squeaked when you bit it, as Dolly did over and over again. It was nice of him, but Vicky really hoped Dolly would tire of the toy quickly. She was the first one in there every morning, and the noise would drive her potty. Alex laughed as Dolly gave the toy a particularly savage mauling.

‘It must be boring as hell in that cage. I’m hoping she’ll only have to be in there another week or so and then you can start taking her out on short walks on the lead to build her strength up.’

‘Dolly’ll love that. She’s so sociable.’

Alex picked up Bruce with one hand and nestled him into the crook of his arm, and as he stroked the little cat, the room was filled with purring.

‘And this guy seems to be her number one fan.’

‘Yes, he’s one smitten kitten.’

‘Kitten? He’s a young adult cat now.’

Did he have to take everything so literally?

‘Yes, I know. It’s just a phrase. Maybe you don’t have it in Greece? You can use it for anyone ‒ dogs, cats, giraffes, even humans ‒ who are “smitten” with someone.’

‘“Smitten”?’

‘It means taken with, attracted to, enchanted, bewitched, crazy about…’

Why had she turned into a dictionary?

That smile was back.

‘Ah, we say mageménos in Greece. I get it now.’

She’d bet good money he really knew what ‘smitten’ meant. He was enjoying this.

‘I’m glad. But to put it in terms you can easily understand, yes, Bruce likes nothing better than being near Dolly. It’s cute.’

‘Agreed. In whatever language. I was about to say that Dolly doesn’t need monitoring so closely anymore. As long as you check her last thing at night and first thing in the morning, and she has water and food…’ Alex pointed at the camp bed in the corner. ‘You can go back to your own bed. Which I’m sure will be a relief. There’s nothing like sinking into your own bed at night between freshly washed linen sheets smelling of lavender, and having space to spread out, knowing you’re where you should be, is there?’

‘Err, no. You’re right.’

She was rather at a loss for words. He’d been positively poetic. She hadn’t had him down as someone who’d appreciate the niceties of bedding.

It was his turn to look faintly embarrassed.

‘Anyway… As I said, Dolly is progressing ahead of schedule.’