Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 82077 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 410(@200wpm)___ 328(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82077 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 410(@200wpm)___ 328(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
“That’s not right,” Hannah chimed in. “He’s young and handsome. He needs to go out on Saturday night, Dad. He’s not like you and Pa, all settled down. He has wild oats to sow.”
“What?”
She cackled. “Eli Kohn is gorgeous, and he needs to find someone just as pretty as he is, and he can’t do that if he’s dog sitting or going to dumb black-tie events.”
“How do you know? Maybe walking a dog is exactly where he’ll meet whoever.”
She scoffed. “Yeah, sure. After they run away screaming, I’m sure Eli could have Chickie run them down and drag them back. I’m sure they’ll be totally into having coffee with him after he helps them clean up all the blood.”
Sam squinted at her.
“It’s fine. I think of it as doing it for George, and please don’t make Ian feel bad for Chickie being here with us. George had every intention of watching him, and right now, George thinks Kurt—I mean Dr. Butler—has him. It’s not George’s fault that Chickie can’t be trusted around bunnies, and certainly not his fault he was deployed.”
Sam was bumping up against Hannah’s adoration of George Hunt, and she had planted her flag on that hill ages ago. He was not going to win, and between her insistence and her face, with the big brown eyes and the way she was biting her bottom lip, her father was a goner anyway. Sam was putty in her hands, and everyone knew it.
“I know all that,” Sam informed her, back to crossing his arms. “But if Chickie is so murderous, can he be trusted around Chilly and Dobby?”
“Oh, yes, absolutely,” she assured her father, perking up instantly. “He gets the pet thing, so all dogs and cats are off limits, and farm animals, because he gets taken to one sometimes by Miro and Ian’s friend. It’s just wild things that he believes he has a license to kill.”
“Nice with the Janes Bond reference.”
She shrugged. “There was a reason this all came together like it did. I don’t know why yet, but I do know everything always happens for a reason and it’s not our place to question the wisdom of the universe.”
He grunted. “Why is the dog’s name Chickie?”
“It’s Chickie Baby, actually, and Dr. Butler had no idea, because I did ask.”
“Huh,” Sam said.
“I can’t imagine what he eats,” I commented, turning to Hannah. “I hope they left you with food.”
“Ohmygod, so much food,” Hannah told me. “He eats a raw diet so…yeah. We’re gonna have to stay on top of that. Plus, from what Dr. Butler said, the poops are as big as Dobby.”
“Yeah, I’m not picking that up,” Sam assured his daughter and then walked into the house, followed closely by Ian Doyle’s wolf.
Kola, Harper, and Jake had been out, first going to buy new video games, then to shop for workout clothes, and after that, junk food, which made no earthly sense. They were planning on challenging another team in Call of Duty, so once they sat down later, they weren’t moving.
It was fun to see them all meet Chickie, and when they found out he could play Frisbee, they immediately put him on a leash and took him to the park near our house. They were gone for hours, and when they finally got home—making sure they were there when I was pulling the meatloaf out of the oven—Sam, Hannah, and I were regaled with tales of how Chickie could not only jump crazy high and caught everything, but he could also sink a basketball with nothing but net.
“Seriously?” Sam teased them. “He’s a circus dog?”
“Dad,” Kola stressed, “some guy was bouncing a ball, and Chickie ran over, scared the crap outta the guy, but when I told him he just wanted to play—’cause why else would he have gone over there—he bounced the ball for him, and Chickie sank it smooth like Steph Curry.”
Hannah giggled over that. “I want to see him do it tomorrow.”
Because of her broken arm, she hadn’t been nearly as active as usual, and the downtime was taking its toll on her.
“We can go in the morning,” Kola promised and then noticed Chickie pacing before he put his feet on the sink and lifted up, looking down at the faucet. “Hannah, do you have a water bowl for him? We had him drinking out of bottles at the park, but—he needs something big.”
One of my enormous stainless steel mixing bowls was all we had that would work, so it was drafted into service. Another one was used to feed him.
“He eats twice a day, just like Chilly and Dobby,” she explained. “Just, you know, quite a bit more.”
I was worried that if Chickie had to go out, how would we know? Dobby had a doggy door that we closed at night, but I was thinking someone would have to sleep on the couch to let the wolf in and out. The issue was easily solved, though, as the boys were going to be up anyway gaming.