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“Ew.”
“What happens when you have kids? They poop too,” I reminded her.
“Now you’re sounding like your mother,” she warned.
I grinned. “My mother would also add on that there’s no shame in a nanny.”
“Exactly,” Charlie said. “If I ever decide to have children, I’m not changing diapers. You can’t make me.”
She rushed ahead of me and opened the door. John Milton and I strode through.
The lobby of the retirement center was warm and inviting. There was a front room sitting area with blue couches and wooden bookshelves and the dining hall was just off the lobby.
A middle-aged woman sat behind the counter, a bright smile spreading across her face when she saw me.
“Good afternoon, Hayden,” she greeted.
“Hi Beatrice.” I leaned down and scooped up the mutt and presented him to her.
“Who is this handsome guy?” Beatrice asked, reaching out to touch his ear.
Charlie snorted.
“His name is John Milton,” I explained.
“And who’s he for?” she inquired.
“Mr. Clancy.”
“Perfect.”
“How’s Mr. Clancy feeling today?” I asked.
“Grumbly.” Her brown eyes twinkled.
“Even better,” I said with a chuckle. “See you in a bit.”
I headed through the lobby, Charlie keeping pace with me. “So even Beatrice knows what you’re doing with this dog? Come on, I’m dying here.”
“For the last couple of months, I’ve been matching shelter dogs with elderly companions,” I explained. “It kind of happened by accident. I was volunteering at Puppy Paradise Rescue and I was taking one of their dogs for a walk. And while I was on my walk, an elderly woman named Mildred was doing her stroll around the neighborhood. We stopped to chat and Mary Shelley took an instant liking to Mildred. By the end of the day, Mary Shelley was in her new home, and Mildred had a new companion. It happened again when I took out Victor Hugo. Within a day, he was re-homed from the shelter and I just kept going.”
“Well, now I understand the naming convention,” Charlie said. “And actually, that’s really sweet.”
I nodded. “They need each other, and it just makes sense. It keeps everyone active and moving.”
“How many dogs have you rehomed?”
“At this point, about fifteen,” I said.
“Wow. That’s actually pretty incredible. You should start a charity,” Charlie said.
“What?”
“Yeah, a charity.” She nodded. “Make this a bigger thing. You clearly have a talent for this. And you seem to love doing it.”
“Something to think about,” I murmured.
We arrived at Mr. Clancy’s door. I knocked. There was no answer. I knocked again.
