Page 56 of Impurrfections

“Did it work?”

He sighed. “I don’t know. She didn’t mention him again. A couple of months later, Mom said she needed my space for the new kid, and I left town. I left them all.”

Shane leaned his forehead against my neck and I kissed his sweaty hair. “You were a teenager. You weren’t supposed to be their parent.”

“Yeah. But they needed one. I just couldn’t anymore.”

“Of course not.”

“I thought, if I was gone, Mom and my stepdad would have to actually step up.”

“I hope they did.”

“Me, too.” Shane rubbed his face. “Being responsible for Mimsy’s different.” He raised his head to eye the cat, who sat in front of the door licking her paws. “Sure, she likes me and I feed her and all. But if I died, she’d live off my corpse till I rotted and then she’d move on and find someone else. If I screw up, she’d make it.”

“I’m pretty sure Mimsy sees you as more than emergency rations on the hoof.”

“Probably. But I’m not her only hope.”

“I promise, if anything happens to you, I’ll make sure Mimsy has better food than rotting human meat.”

I meant that to be funny, but Shane slumped against me, his body losing some tension. “Oh. Thank you.”

I kissed his hair again. Then Foxy groaned and he stiffened up. “Poor dog. I feel so useless.”

“Here, I’ll set a timer on my phone.” I pulled it out. “Another hour, and if we don’t see puppies, we’ll take her in.”

“Cool. Good idea.”

Thinking hard for a way to distract Shane, I spotted the book I’d left for him set open on the floor, upside down. I had a vague memory of abandoning it somewhere in the kitchen on that worst day. “Hey, you found the book. Are you liking it?”

“Yeah, it’s okay.” He picked it up. “Pretty good, actually. You were right.”

“Glad to hear you admit it,” I joked, trying to lighten the mood. “Hey, you want me to read to you?” I used to do that for Rob when he had a headache, and I’d gotten pretty good at narrating a story.

Shane tipped his head to look at me. “Seriously?”

“Yeah. I like reading aloud.”

“Well, sure. I guess.” He passed me the novel.

I pulled him back against me, held the paperback at an angle to catch the fading lantern-light, and began.

The dragons were cool, but neither of us could focus on the story with Foxy panting and shifting and groaning. I looked under her tail several times, ignoring the ick-factor, but couldn’t see any puppies. When my phone alarm went off, it was almost a relief.

“Right.” I set the book aside and stood up. “Let’s take her to the vet.”

Shane bounced up and staggered. “Shit, my ass fell asleep. You think I should carry her?”

“She’s been up on her feet all this time. I bet she can walk.”

The sun rose as we got her out to my car, the dog walking slowly but steadily. Shane layered towels on the back seat and we lifted her in, then he climbed after her. I passed him my phone before I drove. “Call the vet.”

He dialed, listened. “The clinic’s not answering.” There was a hint of panic in his voice.

“They open at eight. It’s seven-twenty. But I bet there’ll be someone in early.”

“I hope you’re right.” He leaned over the dog, murmuring in her ear.

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