LITMIR.BIZ

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food. And Dana felt a kinship with him.

      “Kari, that’s not yours,” she said, reaching over and plucking the cat out of the bowl. “Little Guy’s a lot hungrier than you are,” she explained.

      “Did you bring her with you from Indiana?” Lori asked, reaching over to pet the kitten.

      Shaking her head, Dana watched the puppy, hoping he’d head back to the bowl on his own. It was best if siblings could find a way to coexist.

      Not that he was, or would be, a member of their family. Still, while he was in their home...

      “She was left on the side of the road in Missouri. I’d stopped for the night on my trip out here and saw the box on the entrance ramp to the freeway. There were three kittens inside, but only Kari survived.” Holding the cat up to her face she said, “And you’re doing just fine, aren’t you, girl? Healthy and sassy as can be.”

      Kneeling, Lori coaxed the puppy slowly to the bowl and told Dana that she’d never had a pet, which led to a conversation about the younger woman’s life in Bisbee living alone with her miner father after her mother died.

      Dana had no idea who her real father was. But she didn’t offer up that information.

      Over a glass of iced tea, while they sat on her back patio waiting for the little guy to do his business, Dana offered the younger woman her spare bedroom for the night. And any night that her roommate had her boyfriend over. Marissa couldn’t get away with sneaking a boy into an all-girls’ dorm too often. And Dana understood Lori’s predicament. Sometimes you had to choose to look the other way for the greater good.

      * * *

      TWO DAYS AND TWELVE HOURS later, on Friday morning, Dana was almost late for her freshman English class because she’d had to clean up two puppy messes left by Little Guy in the fifteen minutes between taking him outside first thing in the morning and getting out of the shower. Lori, who’d caught a ride with her back to campus in time for their English class on Wednesday hadn’t been over since, but had offered to babysit the dog over the weekend.

      Dana was hoping she wouldn’t need her. After class on Friday, she headed straight home to the bathroom where she’d been locking up the puppy while she was away, groaned at the toilet-paper-strewn floor, scooped up the unrepentant offender, and the jarred sample she’d collected from the backyard that morning. Leaving the mess, she headed back out the door.

      Cassie Tate Montford, owner of the Shelter Valley animal clinic, was waiting for them and she didn’t want to be late.

      Zack Foster, the only other veterinarian on Cassie’s staff, had taken care of the kittens for her when she’d arrived in town, and she’d called him first thing Wednesday morning only to find that he was out of town. The clinic’s receptionist had assured Dana that Dr. Tate would handle their situation.

      Driving with Little Guy wasn’t easy. Luckily, she didn’t have far to go and arrived at the clinic five minutes ahead of her one-thirty appointment. And five minutes after that, Dr. Tate entered the examination room.

      The middle-aged redhead wore her long hair piled into a twist. With her white coat and efficient air, she was a bit intimidating, until her brown eyes landed on the creature in Dana’s arms.

      “Hello, friend, what can you tell us about yourself?”

      The gentleness with which the older woman handled the stray, the way she treated him like a person, instead of a lesser being, endeared her to Dana.

      “He looks to be in perfect health,” the doctor said after a thorough examination. “I’m guessing he’s somewhere between four and six months old. Temp is normal, heart sounds good. Gums are healthy. Teeth, too. No fleas or skin infestations, no signs of internal parasites or worms in the sample you brought in. His eyes and ears are clear. His coat’s healthy. He’s certainly got a good disposition.”

      Dana could vouch for that. Standing at the table, opposite the doctor, Dana asked, “What breed do you think he is?”

      “He’s got some Lab in him. And, I think, poodle.” Dr. Tate smiled. “Do you have any interest in keeping him?”

      “I can hang on to him for a little while. But I live in a duplex. And he’s going to get big, isn’t he?” Please tell me I’m wrong, that his big paws are just a fluke.

      “I’d guess at least fifty pounds. Maybe more.”

      “He’s got a rabies tag,” Dana pointed out.

      “I know,” Cassie Tate Montford said. “We’re checking on that now, but since no one’s called looking for him, my guess is he’s been abandoned.”

      He was too sweet to have been abandoned. Someone loved him. Was worried about him. Probably putting up lost-dog signs all over the neighborhood. She hadn’t seen any, when she’d driven around town looking for them after class on Thursday. But she probably just hadn’t landed on the right neighborhood. “I have a kitty...”

      “Right. Kari. I read Zack’s notes on her. And a hamster, too, I saw.”

      “Some kids in my freshman biology class were talking about having gotten him for their dorm and then found out they couldn’t keep him.”

      “Freshman biology?” the doctor asked. Petting the dog, she said, “If you’re in school full-time, and working, it might be hard to take care of a new puppy.”

      “I don’t work,” she blurted. “I’m here on a full scholarship, including living expenses. And I’ve been working in my family’s furniture business back home for the past six years. I’ve got savings....”

      When she realized she was babbling, she shut up.

      Curiosity flashed across the doctor’s expression. “You’re scholarship includes living expenses?” The veterinarian sounded surprised by that fact.

      “Yes.” So? Little Guy was getting restless, and Dana lightly scratched his chest in between his two front paws. It was his favorite spot—as she’d discovered during the middle of the night when she couldn’t get him to stop whining in the bathroom and go to sleep. He’d done just fine in her bed.

      “Did you apply for the scholarship?”

      “No.” She frowned. “Why?”

      “It’s just that...I know someone else...the fiancé of a friend of a friend.” Cassie Tate Montford chuckled. “He’s also here this semester on a scholarship with full living expenses included, and those kinds of scholarships are few and far between. He didn’t apply for his, either, and he has no idea where the scholarship came from. He’s convinced his grandmother set it up, but if you got one, too, that’s probably not likely. Unless you know him. Mark Heber?”

      “I’ve never heard of him. Is he from Indiana?”

      “No. It’s probably just some kind of national program set up by a private benefactor. Private meaning whoever donates the money wants to remain anonymous. I’ve just...no one here has ever heard of this before and now we have multiple recipients in one semester.”

      “Yeah.” She shrugged. Dana didn’t really care how the scholarship had come to be—only that it was. “I’m pretty sure my mother applied for it on my behalf,” she offered because of the tenderness the older woman was showing to Little Guy. “Anyway, I’m fine, financially, as long as I watch my spending. I can certainly afford dog food and vet bills until we find a home for him.”

      “We have a pet placement program here at the clinic. If you were to keep him, it probably won’t be long before—”

      “I, actually...wanted to talk to you about that,” Dana said. Zack had mentioned the pet placement program when she’d brought the kittens in to be seen. And again after she’d joined his and his wife’s pet-therapy program at school. “Dr. Foster mentioned that you needed someone to temporarily house unwanted pets. Also people who’d be willing to travel to new adoptive homes to make sure the

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