Page 109 of Marriage (Red, White &) Blues

“His name is Louie.”

Pen’s face dropped.

“Louie Scuttle-Butt McCain?” Ant offered as a compromise, and Pen’s face lit up again.

“Louie Scuttle-Butt McCain,” she shouted, joyfully clapping her hands. And I saw the moment she registered Georgie Boy sitting next to me. “Who are you?” she asked him. He responded with a bark that sounded something like, “George.” Pen shot her eyes to me and they were justifiably filled with confusion and wonder.

Smiling, I shook my head. “His name is Georgie Boy but apparently goes by ‘George.’”

She threw her hand over her mouth, then she looked down at Louie. “Can you sayLouie?” But all he managed was a yip. Pen scooped the little guy up into her arms. “That’s okay. Mommy and Daddy still love you.”

“He’s very lovable,” I replied.

“I agree,” she said, then turning to Ant, “We’ll get him tutors.” Ant wrapped his arm around her waist indulgently drawing his little family in for a squeeze.

My friends were nuts. But I pushed up off the ground, dusting my backside off, and looked down at my sweet Georgie. “C’mon, buddy… Let’s go meet your cousin.”

Chapter Twenty-Five

So, it appeared I found my calling. I wanted a job—no I didn’t technicallyneeda job—but I needed something to do with my days. A sense of purpose.

I knelt down in the cage as five different puppies jumped and licked and snuggled on me. Georgie helped me wrangle the little ones out to the yard to stretch their legs. We went just about everywhere together.

That had been a fun conversation with Blake. “We have what?” he asked but I was sure he’d heard me the first time.

“We have a dog.”

“For how long?”

“Um…Forever.”

“When did we decide this?”

“Today at the shelter. About noon.”

His voice grew tight when he said, “What about our travel plans? You couldn’t have called me first?”

“There wasn’t time. Blake, he was a dead dog walking. If I didn’t buy his freedom?—”

He cut me off with a heady sigh. “Send me some pics to show off to Maisie and Dee.”

Blake got what he’d asked for. I snapped off about twenty pictures of Georgie being sweet, sweet and active, sweet and lazy, goofy and loving.

“Can we agree that you’ll call me before adding to our family?” he asked. “I’d like to be part of it.”

“I promise. Next time we’ll add to our family together.”

When he laughed that soft laugh of his, I pictured him with his face in his hand shaking his head. But the man knew who he was marrying.

With time to get used to the idea, he started each conversation with, “No new family members, right?” After that, he’d ask all sorts of questions about how I spent my days working with the animals.

It was far from glamorous. I fed them. I shoveled poop. I cleaned litter boxes. I shampooed and walked and played. Whatever they needed from me, I jumped right into it with gusto. People let them down. Now people needed to atone.

After finishing with the puppies, I moved to the next cage, giving proper personal time to each cat or dog in our care. When I made it to Miranda’s cage, she loved on me as she always did. Miranda was an American shorthair. One of the most common breeds in the country. Part of her black fur surrounded one eye and she had large spots on her mostly-white back. Half her tail was black, with a blip of white fur at the tip. I loved her. She loved me, too. And someone stuck a sign on her cage stating that her time was up.

My beautiful Miranda? “You’re coming home with me, girl,” I whispered and she rubbed her head against my hand, purring. I collected her and walked to the desk.

“Gloria?” my boss, Miss Virgie, asked as she looked between me and Miranda. “Something wrong with Miranda?” Miss Virgie, as everybody called her, was in her late sixties and hadgrown up in Alabama. She’d moved up here years ago to be close to extended family. I adored Miss Virgie.

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