Total pages in book: 129
Estimated words: 129110 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 646(@200wpm)___ 516(@250wpm)___ 430(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 129110 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 646(@200wpm)___ 516(@250wpm)___ 430(@300wpm)
Now I never know what to say.
What if the press got this number? Or worse?
“Uh, who’s calling?”
“This is Shelley from Dr. Monroe’s office.”
“I’m sorry, who?”
“Dr. Monroe’s office. The vet. We have your dog. When can we expect you?”
“Oh,” I sit up. “Right. Is he okay?”
“Ms. Harris,” the lady sighs. “He is a she."
Oh that's right.
"She’ll make it with the proper care but right now is on round the clock medication.”
“Oh good,” I sigh. “Do you think you can find him a good home or something? He’s not, uh, really my dog.”
“Ms. Harris,” she lets out an annoyed sigh. “Like I said, he is a she. You have a bill that needs to be paid when you pick her up. You signed a contract. That makes you responsible. If you don’t want the dog she’ll go to the pound.”
“Oh.” I'm taken aback by her attitude. "Aren't you supposed to, like, not want dogs to go to the pound?"
She lets out a heavy sigh. "We close at 4. It’s another $250 if she stays overnight.”
The vet’s office is quiet. The lady who I assume called is behind a reception desk, chomping on gum and clicking on the computer.
I pause on the other side of the counter and when she doesn't look up I clear my throat. “I’m here for, um, that dog?”
“And you are?”
She still hasn't looked up.
“Elle Harris. Someone called.”
“That was me, hello.” She finally cranes her neck, looking over her glasses before returning to the screen. “Let’s see here," she clicks. "That will be $6,435.47.”
“Excuse me?” My jaw drops.
“Did you want to work out a payment plan?”
Ugh.
Asher's credit card comes to mind, weighing heavily in my pocket.
Oh god.
I reach for it. “So, uh what did you say he had wrong?” I begrudgingly hand it over to her.
“Well, like I said over the phone, he is a she.” She offers a questioning look.
Crap I keep forgetting.
“You'd have to consult the doctor for specifics, but from the invoice it looks like severe malnourishment, a few infections, two broken ribs, leg, and teeth. Teeth also infected..." her voice trails off as she skims the paper. "My guess is she was probably abused and left to die."
I cringe.
“The doctor gave her all her shots and fixed her. She had a nice grooming too. The fleas and bugs are all gone," she smiles wide.
Ugh.
“We’re sending her home with a lot of medication and a special diet. Doctor wants to see her again in two weeks.”
I swallow hard and nod.
“How much did you want to pay today?” She hovers over the credit card machine.
“Uh, I guess the whole thing.” I swallow hard.
She hums as she runs the card, pausing just before handing it back. “Hah, the name on your card is just like that famous singer’s."
“Yeah,” I smile.
The exact one.
A few minutes later a man in a lab coat walks out holding a tiny shaved dog. It's got a huge cone around its head. Actually I can’t even see the dog’s head at all. All body and cone.
I flinch at the exposed cuts and bruises.
“Ms. Harris?”
I stand.
“Hi, I’m Doctor Monroe.”
“Hi.”
“We’ve determined she’s about two,” he smiles kindly. “She’s a Maltese, and with love and care she’ll do just fine.” He carefully hands her to me. She's boney. I try not to touch any of the cuts. “Her hair will grow back.”
The dog and I stare at each other.
She looks ridiculous with such a small head in that silly thing. Her brown eyes, large and gooey, and her body sad with no hair. She tries to extend her neck but can't. I lean down to see what she wants.
Then she licks me, her tiny tail wagging against my arm.
I can’t help my smile.
Maybe I did save a life after all.
The taxi pulls up to our building and the doorman opens my door. I smile as he registers the dog. “Who's this?” He leans in.
Oh god, she needs a name.
“Madison.” It comes to mind out of nowhere.
After Madison Square Garden, where Asher and I first kissed.
“Is she yours and Mr. Montgomery’s?” He hesitantly gives her a careful pat on the head.
“Um, yes,” I smile, confidently.
I found her. She’s mine.
“Oh how wonderful!" He grabs my bags, checking the items. “No bed? Or toys?"
I study the bags too. The only thing they gave me was food and medicine.
“Huh,” I sigh, realizing I need more stuff. “I guess I don’t really have anything for her.”
“No worries, Ms. Harris. I can have concierge pick up whatever else you may need.”
“Oh that would be great! Thank you!” I nearly skip inside, eager to get my list going.
I'm two hours in to being a dog owner. The company is nice, even if Madison has been sleeping on my lap for most of it. I read through the doctor's instructions and set an alarm on my phone for all the different times she's due to get medication.