the next morning because he got to pick up Bonnie, the Australian shepherd with the missing back leg. Miranda Hastings, the Austin Canine Coalition manager, led Max through the kennels—where dogs of all shapes and sizes, of all ages and breeds, and all with eager, wagging tails—were waiting for volunteers to come walk them.
“This is Bonnie,” Miranda said when she reached one of the larger kennels. The dog was dancing with delight on her three legs, happy to be noticed. Happy to be picked. Miranda opened the kennel door, and Max went down on one knee. Bonnie planted one front paw on his shoulder.
“She was hit by a car and the owner surrendered her. Couldn’t afford her medical care.”
If Bonnie held a grudge, she didn’t show it. “Anything I need to know?” Max asked. “Any special instructions?”
“Nope. She’s very agile even with the missing leg and supersmart. Aren’t you, Bonnie?” she said, ruffling the dog’s fur. “Aren’t you a good girl?”
Max quickly discovered that Bonnie was so eager to please, it was a little heartbreaking. At least she would get a lot of love in his lab—the students and his two research subjects flocked around her, cooing to her and petting her.
Like Clarence, Bonnie would be joining his labs until she was adopted out or the semester ended. “You can probably count on having her around awhile,” Miranda had said. “Disabled dogs, old dogs, and black dogs are always the last to go.”
After Bonnie was picked up by an ACC volunteer that afternoon, Max went home to collect Hazel, then headed to his father’s house. He’d thought about it, and he’d decided that he was going to talk seriously to his dad about finding a place where Jamie might be comfortable and could live a little more independently.
When Max opened the side door, Hazel raced ahead, running for Jamie’s room like she did every time she was in this house.
Max found his father in the kitchen. He had the oven door open and was checking on something inside. “Oh, hey, buddy!” he said cheerfully when he glanced up to see Max.
“Hi, Dad.”
“I’m glad you’re here. I made some chicken Parmesan tonight. It’s a new recipe.”
“Smells delicious,” Max said. He went to the fridge and opened it and grabbed a beer.
“Max!”
He turned toward the hall as Jamie came barreling in, grinning. “Dog show,” he said, and held up the case for the DVD.
“Great, you got it,” Max said.
“Got it,” Jamie said. He turned around and went back down the hall.
“He’s been building one of those ships in a bottle,” his father said. “He’s obsessed with it. It’s good! A very painstaking process, too—I wouldn’t have the patience for it, but Jamie? He spends all evening back there working on that and watching dog shows.”
“Yeah, he’s pretty self-sufficient in a lot of ways,” Max said. “I’ve actually been meaning to talk to you about that.”
“Me, too, son,” his father said, and pulled out some lettuce and vegetables from the refrigerator. “I’ve got some ideas.”
That was unexpected. “Oh. Great. So do I. I, ah . . . I stopped by—”
“Yoo-hoo!”
The woman’s voice startled Max so badly that he knocked his beer bottle against the counter. Hazel, hearing the intruder, came racing out of Jamie’s room, barking wildly. She tried to negotiate a turn toward the front door but missed and slammed into a barstool. But she bounced back up and carried on with her mission.
“Well, aren’t you a cutie,” the woman said, presumably to Hazel, and then Max heard the unmistakable sound of heels coming down the hall from the front door . . . the front door they never used. Max looked at his dad.
His dad was beaming just like he had been the day he told Max he had a date. Beaming like he’d bought a Maserati. “Hey, could you put Hazel in the yard?” he asked Max. He was moving, wiping his hands on the apron Max’s mother used to wear and striding toward the front door that no one ever used.
Max put down his beer bottle. He whistled at Hazel, walked to the back door, opened it, and sent her out. When he stepped back into the kitchen he heard the whispering and the giggling and then, with a wince, he realized he was hearing the definite sounds of kissing. He turned toward the stove so that he could get his shit together. And when he turned around, his dad was walking into the kitchen with a woman on