Knitted Hearts - Amber Kelly Page 0,28
to tell someone, but I didn’t want my friends or my mother to make more out of it than it was, so yesterday morning, while we were out, doing her shopping, I told her how I was nervous to be going on my first date in years.
“I will,” I agree.
I help her gather her things and walk her over to Mr. Reynolds’s porch before I head back into town.
Brandt and Bellamy are sponsoring a pet adoption drive at the clinic this afternoon, and I promised Bells I’d stop by and see the pups and kittens that needed a home.
I park at home and walk down to the clinic. It is a whirl of activity with parents chasing excited children, moving from pen to pen, petting puppies of all shapes and colors.
I stand to the side and watch as one little boy picks up a puppy that doesn’t look to be much bigger than him. He squeals in delight as the brown-and-white pup squirms and twists in his hold, trying to lick the chocolate-milk mustache from his mouth.
A moment later, Bellamy appears from down the hallway, and she locks eyes with me. She looks a bit overwhelmed as she approaches.
“I’m so glad you made it,” she says as she hugs me.
“Looks like you have a good turnout,” I tell her.
“Not good enough. If we don’t adopt out all these little critters, they are going home with us until we can find them new homes,” she informs me.
“What?”
“Yeah, the shelter in Montebello had to shut its doors because it was short of funding. These little guys were going to be put down if we didn’t rescue them. I just can’t stand the thought of any of them not finding new humans,” she says as a girl with a white kitten tugs at her skirt.
“What’s her name?” she asks.
“I call her Snowball, but if you take her home with you, you can choose any name you want for her.”
“I like Snowball,” the girl says, and then she runs off to find her parents to no doubt beg to be the fluffy kitty’s new momma.
“Well, show me what you have,” I tell Bells.
I have wanted a dog to keep me company at home. I’ve just been worried that I’m too on the go to be a proper pet owner.
“We have some older puppies in here. Follow me,” she says as we walk down the hall to one of the larger exam rooms, closed off with a gate in the doorway.
Inside are about a dozen of the cutest dogs I’ve ever seen. A couple are curled together in a corner, sleeping, while the others are bouncing around, pawing and gnawing at one another.
“I wanted to introduce you to that one.” She points to a cream-colored floof with a patch of brown surrounding its left eye and each of its paws. Its coat is long and wavy, and it has a tiny brown nose.
“Oh, it’s adorable,” I tell her.
“It’s a female labradoodle. She’s sixteen weeks old, and she’s had all her shots. She’s teething, but she seems to be handling it well. They are very mild-tempered, love their humans, and ride easy so that you could take her with you on house calls. She is just the sweetest thing, and they don’t shed and are hypoallergenic, so your patients shouldn’t have a problem being around her.” She drives home the sale.
“How big will she get?” I ask.
“Judging by her age and weight, Brandt is guessing she is a medium breed, so she’ll probably end up somewhere between thirty-five and forty-five pounds. So, not too big, not too small.”
“Bellamy, can you come to the office for a second?” Elaine, Brandt’s mother, calls out.
“Be there in a sec,” Bells answers before turning back to me. “If you’re not sold, look around; any of these guys would make wonderful companions. I’ll be right back,” she says before leaving me with the group and taking off down the hallway.
I step over the gate and walk into the midst of the room. I’m instantly surrounded by a barrage of puppies, fighting for my attention. I don’t know which one to pick up first when I hear a deep voice from the doorway.
“I think you might have to take them all home.”
I look up to see Foster propped in the doorway, watching us.
“I wish I could,” I say as I laugh at the antics of the babies at my feet.
Foster steps over the gate and joins me in the room.
I take a