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“Oh no, I’m sorry!” Starling catches him under his front legs and gently gathers him into her arms, detangling his claws from my now ruined shirt. “How did he do that? I’ve never seen a dog with claws like this. Are we sure he isn’t a cat? Or…part cat, maybe?”
“He’s also part kangaroo and has no trouble jumping up on the kitchen counter,” I say, reaching into the back seat for my garment bag. “So, you’ll want to make sure you keep any food you usually leave on the counter locked in the cabinets.”
“Already taken care of,” she coos, cuddling the still panting and gargling Keanu to her chest. “Kyle likes to jump on counters, too, Keanu. And over fences. He nearly made a break for it this morning when he heard the lady turkeys in the back field.” She looks up, adding. “Any advice on how to manage a horny gobbler?”
I blink. “Excuse me?”
“I mean, you’re a doctor of reproductive medicine,” she says as we start toward the front door. “I know you’re more into humans than birds, but I thought you might have some advice to help keep Kyle calm during mating season.”
“No, sorry. A veterinarian or a turkey breeder would probably be your best bet.” I open the door for her, holding it as she and Keanu pass inside. As soon as the door closes behind us, he stops complaining and wiggles to be put down.
Starling obliges him and he immediately races into the living room to jump into the dog bed beside the fireplace with Kyle.
The turkey spreads its wings with a gargle very similar to Keanu’s and gathers the dog closer to his side. They’re strange bedfellows, no doubt—the turkey currently wearing a glittery red bow tie and the rat dog with roughly ten thousand teeth—but I’m glad they’ve hit it off.
If they hadn’t, I have no idea what I would have done with Keanu. My mother met him on Tuesday and promptly declared him “too ugly to be taken seriously,” Drew isn’t due back from his trip until tonight, and the dog’s face made my sister Melissa’s son cry.
“Okay, I’ll start researching turkey breeders,” Starling says. “I have extra time now that I’ve been laid off from the bank.” She cuts off my apology with a raised hand. “Don’t worry, I’m relieved. I was hoping they’d realize they were overstaffed and let me go before I had to quit. Now I can collect unemployment until I find another full-time gig. And this time, I’ll be sure to pick something that doesn’t suck my life force. I’m just not a money girl, you know? Oh, speaking of money, Wren ran to the bank to get some cash for the trip. She’ll be back in a few. Feel free to use the hall bathroom to change and sorry again about your shirt.”
“No apologies needed,” I assure her. “It’s my fault for putting off his grooming and nail clipping appointment until after my trip.”
I move into the bathroom and hang my garment bag on the hook on the back of the door. Glancing in the mirror I see the damage is worse than I thought. Keanu’s nails went through my dress shirt and the undershirt beneath, leaving dots of red behind. I unbutton the shirt and strip off the undershirt, silently cursing myself for not bringing my suitcase inside, as well.
Now, I’ll need to go out to the truck to fetch it.
I’m reaching for the door, when it opens inward, and a surprised Wren, yips, “Oh my God, I’m sorry, I thought you were in the kitchen with Starling, but she must have been talking to Kyle.”
“It’s fine, I was just changing,” I explain. “Keanu was a little shaken up by the trip over and had a go at my shirt.”
“And your skin,” she says, her gaze travelling down to the scratches just below my sternum. She gulps and stares a little longer, making the air in the bathroom feel warmer. “Let me help you with that. I have Band-Aids and alcohol under the sink.”
“It’s fine,” I assure her, but she’s already shutting the door behind her and crouching down to open the cabinet.
“It’s not fine. You don’t want to get an infection. We know Keanu had all his shots at the shelter, but puppy claws can still be dirty and full of bacteria.” She stands, brushing her hair from her flushed cheeks with her free hand. “Just give me a few seconds, and I’ll take care of it.”
“All right. Thank you.” I lean against the sink as she wets a cotton ball with rubbing alcohol, very conscious of being partially undressed with Wren for the first time since the night we crossed the line between friends and people who fuck in hallways.
It’s a thinner line than you’d think. At least for the two of us.
