Chapter 49 Rhys
Chapter forty-nine
Rhys
The news about the case being dropped lifts a weight from my mind. I hadn't been worried as such, but my mind definitely lingered on it more than it should.
“So we can now re-home the dogs to their forever homes,” Noah grins, his pockets wriggling more than usual.
“And I can move forward with the expansion.”
“I…” Noah pauses for a moment. He knows my plans. I've had him outside with a brick and a tape measure more times than necessary. He has faith in me, but not in himself. Running the hospital, the large animal side, the puppy barn, the branch surgeries and now my three porta-cabin plan.
He sees so many pieces to juggle. With so many puppies taking up all of his hands.
But soon he will truly see what I see. A man who doesn't need to juggle so many departments, a man who just needs to chair a committee of people who have been running all my branches for years.
“Cheyanne has gone into labor.” Tree calls, banging on the door after she's entered. “Harry wants Noah to lead as she's so skitty. Do you want him to bring her over, or will you go to them?”
Noah stands up calmly. He reaches into his left pocket and pulls out a blanket pouch containing Bunny and Sunny. Then the right pocket and pulls out three micro pups in another pouch.
“Five?” I frown, taking the offered bundles. He's been stealing the runts from each litter. Old habits die hard, and he still removes the weakest pups. But instead of discarding them, he slips them into his pocket. I have twelve incubators over in the puppy barn, and they're all full.
It's a long-term investment for my wildlife hospital idea, but for now, it's a sympathy project for Noah, making life easier for his remaining girls and one hundred times harder for himself.
But he wouldn't be my Noah if he did have more puppies than pockets.
“I’m on my way.” Noah walks out of the office, leaving Tree laughing at my sudden collection of vulnerable puppies.
“How many are you letting him keep?” She asks.
“Honey.” I sigh. “But he hasn't put any of the runts up on the adoption sheets.”
“Keep telling yourself it's his pessimism in case they don't survive, but you know you'll be keeping them all.”
“I know you've put your name down for Figgy.”
“Yes. When her puppies are weaned, and if you decide you're going to let us bring them in with us.”
“You will always be second place in their hearts if they see Noah daily.”
“They have big hearts.”
“It means Noah can keep more dogs without me having them at home.” I give a shrug, knowing I've opened the floodgates. It was inevitable. My staff asked, and I said no. Noah batted his eyes, and I melted.
I thought I was broken before, but now…
Killer with a heart.
I never imagined it would be possible.
But he's opening my heart to the whole world.
A lot can happen in a short time. In terms of puppy growth, it’s a huge difference. One that can be easily measured in Noah’s growth charts. But it can also be measured in the chance to my practice.
Seeing the smile on Tree's face as I grant permission for Figgy to live under her consultation room table.
Watching Pumpkin take her place in the office next to Martha during her puppy breaks.
Watching Cheyanne sniff under a tree for the first time in her life, with Harry standing behind her ready to fight the world if she got startled. Noah rushing over ready for her final labor.
Even Stan has a soft spot for Toffee. She takes rides up front in his work van during his lunch breaks, window down, with her ears flapping like a duck trying to take off.
They are living in limbo for the moment, waiting for their puppies to reach adoption age, but the decisions have been made. I’m committed.
Chloe didn't survive unmoved. She started a paper adoption list for Bobo with only her name on it.
Danielle only survived dog-free by the skin of her teeth.
She's much more of a cat person, but I saw her watching the last pup from Misty's litter leave, and the look in Misty's eyes as if she knew she'd never have another pup.
If Noah hadn't homed her so quickly, I think all those cats would have had the surprise of their lives.
I can imagine lunch breaks where all the dogs run around the open grassland between the hospital and the large animal buildings. All my staff sitting together on the new benches I had installed, along with a dog waste bin.
These dogs who have never met each other in anything but smell. Who have never walked on grass. Who have never played as dogs should.
But it isn't the joy of watching these dogs transform. It's the joy of watching Noah as it happens.
There's no more time for daydreaming. I need to get across to the puppy barn and make sure we have a room set up for Cheyanne.
I don't care what Harry wants; he can't keep her over there in the stables with newborn puppies.
She'll be in the barn on the soft flooring under a heat lamp for the next eight weeks.
After that, Harry can keep her wherever he wants.
Once the bundle of puppies I inherited from my obsessed… boyfriend are weaned.
Boyfriend.
We haven't formally elevated him from hostage, even though we both knew he never really was.
Soon, Cheyanne's new home is warming up under the headlamp, fresh bedding in the bed box area. Clean water and a large bowl of dry food for her to eat as she pleases.
I've also got the kettle boiling for a new batch of puppy milk, ready for all the incubator pups and any extras that may sneak their way in.
Wow, look at how domesticated I am. I've even put tea bags in mugs ready for them.