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“If you didn’t know, my mom runs this place. It’s her volunteer thing that she’s done forever. I’m helping out.”
“Well, that’s great. I don’t remember your mom because we were kids back then, but I’m taking over the vet clinic. Apparently, we have a contract with you all to handle vet care, spaying and neutering and so on.”
Wes nodded. “Good to know. I’ll let my mom know you’re taking over at the clinic. She handles all the admin stuff. Are you here for one of the animals? As far as I know, everyone’s healthy,” he said, a wrinkle of worry forming between his brows.
“I’m here for a dog. I want to adopt one,” I clarified.
“We have those,” he quipped. “Do you want to come back and meet everybody?”
A few minutes later, we were standing in a room in the back area, and I was looking down at a three-legged mutt. She looked to be a mix of all kinds of dogs. Tiffany was sitting cross-legged on the floor as she scratched behind the dog’s ears.
“Does she have a name?” I asked Wes.
He shrugged. “No. She just showed up last night. Somebody dropped her off while we were closed.”
“Are you serious?” I squeaked.
He nodded. “Unfortunately, it happens.”
“I know it happens, but Willow Brook is so small, and it’s not safe to leave a pet out loose with moose and bears around. I can’t believe someone would do that.”
He murmured his assent, but his gaze had drifted to Tiffany. I sensed there was some kind of something between them. Tiffany stood, brushing her hands on her jeans, and he brought his attention back to me. “I just finished feeding her. We’d probably be calling you soon about a regular checkup.”
“Do you have cameras here?” I asked.
“We do, but they tied her up near the mailbox on a tree just past the drive, so it was well out of view.”
I approached the dog, sinking down on my knees and running my hands over her body, gently checking her out. She was a sweet girl. I carefully ran my hand over the upper joint of her missing leg. “At some point, she had surgery to remove her leg. I wonder if we have records at the clinic.”
“Will it matter?” he asked.
“We have photos for every dog, so probably.”
She was brown with blond highlights and a pretty little thing. Her ears hitched halfway up, and her eyes were soft and brown. “Hey there, honey,” I murmured softly.
She nuzzled my chin and curled into me in response. After a few minutes of petting her, I glanced at Wes and Tiffany, who appeared to be in conversation. “She’s the one,” I said firmly.
“She’s all yours,” Wes said, looking away from Tiffany to me.
“Is there an adoption fee?” I asked.
“For you, no,” he offered with a grin.
“I insist,” I said.
“Give us a donation online or something,” Wes countered. “My mom already said I’m not allowed to charge you.”
“When did you even talk to your mom?” I protested.
“I texted her just a minute ago,” he said matter-of-factly.
“You do have to fill out the adoption paperwork, though. She said it’s the only way we can officially pass on ownership.”
“What are you going to name her?” Tiffany asked as she approached and trailed her fingertips over the dog’s back.
I looked down at her, cocking my head to the side. “Honey.” As if she understood, the dog nudged my knee.
Tiffany grinned, replying, “Perfect.”
