Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 90753 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 454(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90753 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 454(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
Still, it’s something, and I won’t let my bubble burst just yet. I look at the small orange clock mounted in my cubicle and cringe when I see the time. It’s already half past five, and according to the YMCA’s website, the puppy training class starts at 6:00 PM. I have just enough time to run home, change, and grab Mouse and a granola bar on my way out the door. Dinner will have to wait.
I take it as a good sign when my car leaps to life on the first turn of the engine. I smile over at Mouse, who is currently perched on the passenger seat, the whole upper half of his body hanging out the window. He loves car rides, and I’ve learned it’s best to just roll the window all the way down for him—otherwise I’m left with a whole mess of slobber to wipe off the glass afterward.
The YMCA is across town, but it still only takes me ten minutes to get there. I’m surprised by the number of cars I see in the parking lot, and even more surprised when I step into the small gymnasium where the training class will take place. There are twelve metal chairs arranged in a semicircle, and all of them are taken. The room is made up largely of women about my age. I recognize most of them, but there are a few that must be new to town. I nod to Jessica and Valerie as I pass, though most of my attention is focused on keeping Mouse at bay. With so many dogs in the vicinity, he’s tugging on the leash and jumping, trying as hard as he can to get to them.
“It’s not playtime, Mouse,” I hiss under my breath. He’s the largest dog in the room by a mile. Most of the attendees have brought in small poodle mixes, and though I’m hesitant to admit it, they look to be much easier to handle than Mouse.
I find a nice spot on the ground beside the last chair and place Mouse on my left side, away from the tiny Chihuahua currently cowering under his owner’s chair. His eyes seem to be begging for dear life, but Mouse is lying on his side, trying to get as small as possible so the puppy might start to like him. Poor Mouse; it’s hard being the size of a bear.
The Chihuahua’s owner scoots her chair away from us.
“Oh, he’s really friendly,” I promise with a smile.
And he is. For all his faults, Mouse wouldn’t hurt a fly—just his owner.
“I have no doubt,” she replies haughtily, turning her attention to the woman on her right.
Well then.
For a few minutes, I focus on Mouse and try to get him to settle down. Once he realizes we’re staying with all these other puppies for a while, he might not feel like he has to OMG meet them all right this very second. I can feel him begging me to let him go play. His big eyes stare up at me, and then he lets out a hilariously dramatic groan. I rub his belly as a consolation prize.
“Yeah, once I saw that flyer downtown, I knew I had to come to the class,” Chihuahua girl says to her friend.
“Was that the one with his photo?”
“Yes!” she replies. “It was just there at the bottom, but I saw all I needed to see.”
They both laugh, and I pretend I’m not eavesdropping.
“I heard from Cassie, who heard from Mary, that he just moved to town. Apparently he’s the new vet.”
“Oh really?” her friend asks. “Looks like I’ll be taking Moxie in for monthly—no, weekly checkups.”
Another round of annoying tittering follows, and for some reason I’m shocked that they’re talking about Adam. When he mentioned the training class yesterday, he didn’t mention he would be the one running it.
That changes things. I’m honestly not sure I would have shown up had I known, but it’s too late now because Adam is walking through the gym doors with training supplies tucked in a bag over his shoulder.
“Oh my word, he’s even better in real life,” Chihuahua girl whispers under her breath.
I decide that as soon as it’s not so obvious, I’m moving to sit at the other end of the half-circle. I can’t take much more of their commentary.
Adam spots me right away, probably because I’m the only attendee parked on the floor. I half expect him to ignore my presence altogether, but he walks straight for me. Mouse takes notice and leaps to his feet. All my effort in calming him down is out the window now that his favorite target as of late has made an appearance. Mouse jumps and whines, desperate for Adam to step within the three-foot radius his leash allows. I try to get him to sit, but it’s no use.