Page 111 of Wishing Hearts

Sammy

“Well, shit,” Carl sums up rather succinctly.

“Uh-huh,” I agree, taking in the sight before us.

Carl and I responded to a call about a case of animal neglect after the landlord of an apartment complex had one of his tenants skip town. The renter disappeared five days ago, as far as anyone can tell, likely in an attempt to avoid paying the thousands he’d racked up in missed payments. The landlord let himself inside the apartment after hearing some suspicious noises, and what he found, in addition to a space cleared of all possessions and valuables, were two hungry animals. A dog…and a pig, of all things.

The pair are now both happily chowing down as Carl and I watch on. The dog, a hound mix with wiry gray hair, and the pig, much smaller than her companion, look surprisingly healthy. The tenant had been treating them well enough, but apparently, the two creatures didn’t have sufficient value in his eyes to not be left behind like trash. Dickweed.

“Poor souls,” I mutter, running my hand over the little pig. The thing is tiny still, about the size of my hand, and she’s entirely pink under her layer of soft white fur, apart from a single black spot above her right eye. She wiggles as I scratch her back, corkscrew tail bobbing, but she doesn’t yet pull her face from her food.

“We’ll bring ’em with us back to Animal Control,” Carl is telling the landlord. “Thanks for givin’ us a call.”

The man nods, grumbling about his lost money as he goes, but frankly, I think it could have been worse. At least there’s no property damage inside the apartment. Remarkably, both animals seem to have been trained to use a litter box. It’s far too full after five days of use, but hey, the guy doesn’t have to clean urine from the floorboards.

“Good little piggy, aren’t ya?” I say to the squirmy girl. She finally looks up at me, snout moving as she chews. “Gah. You’re adorable.” I boop her little snout.

“Oh boy,” Carl says.

“What?” I ask, scratching along her back again. The hound was less receptive to attention, which is no surprise given the circumstances. Carl and I are giving him space while he eats.

“I know that look,” my coworker says.

“What look?” I straight-up giggle as the tiny pig dances, trying to get my scratching nails just where she wants them.

Carl shakes his head as he walks away to collect transportation crates, but I swear I hear, “Of course with Sammy it would be a pig.”

“I don’t know what he’s talkin’ about, but you’re a good little piglet, aren’t you?” I coo, tugging my phone free. Luckily, I know a nearby vet who can examine our farm friend.

And come to think of it, that gives me an idea for the hound, too.

“We’ll get y’all sorted,” I assure the both of them. “Don’t you fret.”

Harrison’s eyes, when I walk through the doors to his practice, are wide and amused. “Sam…” he says slowly. “Is that a pig in your shirt?”

I grin, running a couple fingers between the little pig’s ears. She is snuggled inside my uniform, her head poking out above the undone buttons near my chest and her snout twisting about as she takes in the vet practice. My guess is she’s been stuck inside that apartment for most of, if not all of, her life. She’s been sniffing like mad ever since we left the building.

“Harrison,” I respond. “This is Piglet. Piglet, Harrison.”

I give him my most winning smile, and Harrison’s eyes shut in an extended blink. He bites his lip, shaking his head a little, and I have no clue what to think of his reaction. But then he opens his eyes and smiles back.

“You named her Piglet?” he asks, closing the distance between us.

I nod slowly as Carl comes through the door, the hound on a leash in his hand. We’ve started to gather the attention of Harrison’s coworkers—one woman squeals as she rounds the desk to get a better look at Piglet—but my eyes are on my boyfriend.

He licks his lips a little. “What are we going to need?”

My heart skips a beat. “Really?” I ask. “Can we really keep her?”

“Sam,” he says softly. We both ignore the woman petting Piglet’s head. “How can I possibly say no to you? Do you even realize the power of your face?”

I bark a laugh as Harrison smiles and lets Piglet sniff his hand.

“Do we know how big she’s going to get?” he asks.

I grimace a little, looking down at the tiny thing. She’s small now, sure, but… “Well, there’s every chance she is a teacup pig,” I hedge. “But I wouldn’t put money on it. The good news, however, is that she already knows how to use a litter box.”

Harrison sighs, but his smile never falters. “So we just adopted a house-trained pot-bellied pig?”

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