You Lucky Dog - Julia London Page 0,11

accomplishing two things at once with this trip—treating his brother to a slice of dog heaven because Max was convinced Jamie could handle it, and giving his dad a well-deserved and much-needed break as Jamie’s caregiver. The old man had planned a big fishing trip with his buddies for the weekend. He’d gone out and bought himself a new reel and rod, for Chrissakes.

Max had invested a considerable amount of money and effort into this weekend, and if Brant wasn’t going to be around to dog-sit like he’d promised, then Max was in an even bigger bind.

* * *

By the next afternoon, Thursday, there was still no word from Brant, and Max was starting to panic. He tried not to panic—he was well aware that while his sympathetic nervous system had geared up, his parasympathetic nervous system would soon enter the picture and bring his anxiety down, because he did not have, insofar as he knew, a panic disorder.

But he sure might develop one if he didn’t find Brant or Hazel soon. He hadn’t had much time to look, honestly—he had a major research article due to his faculty adviser, two tests from two different classes to grade, and he’d agreed to sub for another professor whose mother had died. But he did manage to swing by the ACC after work yesterday, hoping Hazel might have shown up there, taken by whoever had gotten her instead of Dog.

The dogs were out for group play. There were at least two dozen of them, some of them lounging on preschool play sets, some engaged in a serious game of chase. But no Hazel. When Max walked by the field on his way to the office, all of the dogs raced to the fence to greet him, save a bulldog in the back who didn’t seem inclined to give up his space on the play set bench.

In the office, a young woman with pink hair and heavily tattooed arms said, “I’m sorry, sir. We haven’t received any bassets this week. But I’ve got a coon hound mix if you’re interested. He’s very friendly. But I would not advise leaving leather boots lying around.”

“Thanks,” Max said. “But I’m just looking for my dog.”

“Good luck!” she said.

Thursday morning rolled around, and Max took Dog to work with him again on the slim chance that Brant might call and announce where he and Hazel had gone. But instead of leaving him in his office, Max had decided his classroom students could deal and Dog would be happier, so he’d brought him to the lecture hall. At first, Dog had stuck to a corner of the room, his head pressed to the wall. But he’d warmed up to the class, and, let’s be honest, the number of new smells a dog could not overlook or ignore, even the most depressed of basset hounds. Dog had wandered around as Max tried to instruct the students on the nervous system, plunging his nose into backpacks and crotches at will. The students were delighted, but also distracted by Dog, which was okay with Max, given the circumstances.

But he hadn’t counted on a visit from Dr. O’Malley, the department head.

O’Malley’s face set into a dark frown as Dog lumbered around the classroom. As if he thought dogs only belonged in the lab, and not in the auditorium. Dr. O’Malley generally frowned about a lot of things, but Max didn’t want him to frown in his class, especially since he’d just found out that he was not the only candidate being considered for tenure this year; he was apparently one of two. And only one would be allowed to go forward through the university process. Max was well aware that what O’Malley thought of either candidate would definitely factor into the decision.

And still, surprisingly, tenure—the thing he’d worked so long and so hard toward—was the least of his problems this week. Max had discovered that he couldn’t board a nameless dog without vaccination records and at least a name. He didn’t have a pet sitter, either, and couldn’t find one on such short notice.

He’d considered asking one of his students. But he’d looked at the bunch of budding neuroscientists, half of whom were too much in their own heads, and the other half he wouldn’t trust not to experiment on a chunky sad-sack dog, and had passed on that idea with a hard no.

As a last resort, he decided to worry his father with this problem on the chance he might know

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