Total pages in book: 141
Estimated words: 141251 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 706(@200wpm)___ 565(@250wpm)___ 471(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 141251 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 706(@200wpm)___ 565(@250wpm)___ 471(@300wpm)
“Yep. Because you then get to punch the person sitting next to you in the arm as hard as you can.”
“Yes.” Willow laughs from the back. “I’m spotting one of these babies.”
I chuckle and shake my head.
What next?
“Punch buggy,” Brielle yells, and my eyes flash to her. She laughs out loud and points at me. “Ha! Made you look.”
I smirk as I pull into the drive. “I’m going to punch you in the buggy in a minute.”
The car falls silent as we pass the animal shelter sign.
“What are we doing here?” Willow asks.
I stop the car and turn toward them. “I thought we might get a puppy.”
“What?” they all screech. “Oh my God.” The children jump out of the car and run up into the building.
I turn my attention to Bree, and she smiles over at me with an affectionate glow in her eyes. “That may just be the hottest thing you’ve ever done.”
I smile, nodding as I look out through the windscreen. “I don’t know whether to be offended that my previous attempts to be hot have been so… underwhelming. Is that supposed to be a compliment or an insult, Miss Brielle?” She giggles as she hops out of the car. “Compliment, you baboon. Now get out of the car.”
We walk down the aisle of the shelter, inspecting the puppies.
“This one!” Samuel calls out, filled with excitement.
I peer in to see a shaggy looking mutt. I screw up my face. “We need a dog that doesn’t grow too big.”
“Right,” Bree hums as she studies the dogs. “What kind do we want?”
“Something friendly that doesn’t bark a lot,” I reply. “Or make a mess.”
Bree raises a sarcastic brow and I shrug. It sounds good in theory.
“Look at this one,” Sammy calls as he drops to his knees beside a cage.
A little brown and white puppy with droopy ears and big brown eyes looks up at us.
Willow falls to her knees beside them. “Oh my God, it has to be this one,” she cries.
I read the ticket:
Female Beagle
10 weeks old
In need of loving home
Gentle temperament
Great with children.
The puppy stares up at me with her big brown eyes.
Bree drops to the floor. “Look at her sweet, little face.”
“Let’s just keep looking, shall we?” I mutter, swiftly moving along.
I get to the end of the aisle and glance back to see that the three of them haven’t moved from their position beside the female beagle.
“Have you looked at every dog?” I ask them.
“We want this one,” Willow tells me with confidence.
“Bree, can you Google beagles and see what they are like, please?”
“Sure.” She takes out her phone and begins to read the information. “Great with children, lovely housemates, gentle, loyal. Not messy. Very quiet.”
I study her face. “Are you just saying what you think I want to hear?”
She giggles. “Totally.”
I roll my eyes. I can’t believe I’m doing this. “Are you sure this is the one you want?”
The three of them all smile and enthusiastically.
“Fine. That was easier than I imagined.” I walk over to the assistant. “Excuse me, can we take the ten week old beagle, please?”
The young girl smiles and then goes through a series of questions and then finally replies. “Great choice. She’s a beautiful little girl. I’ll get her ready and meet you out the front in ten minutes.” She takes the puppy from her cage, and Willow and Samuel start to bounce on the spot, unable to control themselves. “I’ll meet you out the front.” She smiles before she disappears through the office door.
We walk into another section of the shelter and my face falls. It’s filled with kittens.
“Oh my God,” Willow gasps.
“Look at this one!” Bree shrieks.
We walk over to see a little white fluffy ball of fur staring back at us.
“This one,” Samuel calls to us. “He looks like the one that attacks bears.” The three of them all burst out laughing.
I go to the front counter and wait for the girl to return with our puppy.
“Oh no, he got me.” Willow laughs, and we turn to see a little ginger and white kitten standing on his back two legs. He’s put his paw through the cage and somehow got it snagged in Willow’s knitted jumper.
She giggles as she tries to unhook herself, and Samuel and Bree begin to help her. The kitten is a livewire, playing with them through the cage.
Willow’s eyes find mine. “Dad, can we have this kitten, too?”
“No.”
“Please,” she begs. “Oh, please, Dad. I’ll look after him. I’ll even pay for his food from my pocket money.” “Willow, we just got a dog.”
She smiles sadly at the kitten and continues to play with it through the cage.
“Why can’t she have it?” Bree whispers.
“I don’t want a fucking cat,” I mutter under my breath.
“This isn’t about you. This is about taking her mind off the situation at school. This cat could be the perfect friend for her.”