Page 85 of Missiletoe
Massive, furry chest for snuggling? Infinity checks.
I shooed Gareth out of the kennel because I knew he’d only come with Paris in the first place so he could challenge him again. In hindsight, I shouldn’t have believed Gareth gave two shits about making sure all the dogs had on Christmas hats.
Once Paris and I finished, every dog looked so adorable in their little hats that I had to take a selfie with every single good boy and girl before I let them go out into the main area.
They all trotted through the door in an orderly row and made their way to the part of the room furthest from Adam. Paris was so thoughtful for thinking of Apple’s feeling like that. I was going to marry Paris so hard that our future grandkittens would be blushing.
“Oh my god, Adam, look at his little hat!” Apple squealed and ran over to Hercules the Pomeranian.
Hercules was wearing the tiny, knitted hat I’d made the night before. The antlers had been tricky to figure out, but I think they came out pretty well.
Apple screeched to a halt halfway between Adam and Hercules and proceeded to do an awkward but hilarious dance of indecision between them. He turned toward Adam and made a sad little noise, then he turned back toward Hercules before turning back to look at Adam again. It was clear to everyone in the room that he was desperate to get his hands on Hercules, but he was afraid Adam would get caught in a bunny stampede or something if he got more than five feet from his husband.
Trixie went to poor Apple and nudged him toward the tiny dog. Trixie was bigger than Apple, so her nudge slid him along the concrete floor at least a foot before she let him come to a stop.
“Hercules is the sweetest dog in the pack,” Paris said, walking over to said dog in question and crouching down. “He’s only here because his elderly owner died. He’s never hurt anyone before, I promise.”
Apple took several hesitant steps toward Hercules. “Why is he called Hercules?”
“He told me it’s because his person thought a small dog needed a big name to give him courage. He’s lived up to it. He broke a window open to get help when his person had a heart attack. If the man hadn’t died on the spot, Hercules would have saved his life.”
Apple kneeled down by Hercules and held out a hand. Hercules sniffed it and gave him a friendly lick but didn’t do the hyper doggy greeting many shelter dogs did.
“He’s a very chill dog. I think it’s because he’s still really sad about his person passing away and him not being able to help.”
Hercules gave a small whimper, and his tail went between his legs.
“Oh baby,” Apple whispered. “It’s okay. You are a very good boy. It wasn’t your fault.” Apple scratched behind Hercules’s ears and looked like he was about to cry.
“Hercules needs a family who will remind him of what a good boy he is every day,” Paris said softly.
“Adam…” Apple looked at his husband, eyes shiny with unshed tears.
“You should get him, Apple,” Adam said. “If you are really worried about me, you can keep him with you all the time. But I’m not worried. I’ve never had a dog hurt me before.”
Hercules licked Apple’s hand again and did an adorable little shimmy. Apple scooped him up and hugged the stuffing out of the little ball of fluff.
“Quick,” I said to Paris. “Get the adoption papers before he can talk himself out of it!”
I wasn’t being mercenary. I could see that Hercules would be a wonderful fit for the Apple and Adam pod in our family. It had nothing to do with the fact that if Apple got a dog, he’d have no leg to stand on if he changed his mind about my invisikittens and called a house meeting to have them thrown out.
While Paris went to get the adoption papers, Apple allowed Adam to come over to meet Hercules. I was going to give them moral support, but then Delilah came up to me and demanded attention. Delilah was a massive Alaskan Malamute. She was so big that instead of giving her a normal hat, I had to stick a tiny santa hat on each of her ears.
I was obsessed with Delilah, and I was planning on cuteing my way into convincing Paris to add her to our family as well. She’d only been there for a week, and I’d already become so attached to her that I knew I’d cry for days if someone else adopted her.
Why did I need to convince Paris when it was obvious he’d give me anything I asked for?
Well…I may have left out the part where Delilah is twice my size and very frisky.
And that I had gotten caught trying to ride her while Baz cheered me on.
When he found me climbing on her back, Paris—my sweet, kind, gentle Paris—hadyelled.Atme!
Then he yelled at Trixie for not stopping me and at Baz for suggesting I do it in the first place.
He apologized when I started crying, and then he held me and rocked me in his giant, tree-sized arms while explaining how dangerous it was to ride an excitable, untrained dog. She might have been big enough for me to ride, but I could have broken my neck doing it if she bolted.
Paris assured me that the chances of her bolting were almost one hundred percent.
