Reasons why Mr. Nate would be the perfect man for Miss Josie:
- He likes me.
- He lets me sleep on the couch.
- He feeds me treats.
- He understands dogs.
- He scared away the bad guy who tried to break into the garden.
- He’s kind to Miss Josie, even when she’s prickly and thorny.
- He’s reading Pride and Prejudice.
- When Miss Josie isn’t looking, he stares at her like she might be the prettiest thing he’s ever seen.
Reasons why Mr. Nate would not be the perfect man for Miss Josie:
- He’s leaving.
I stretched and yawned, still on top of Mr. Nate, as Miss Josie emerged from her room. I lifted my head and gave her a half-hearted wag of my tail, too sick to get up and greet her properly. I hoped I wouldn’t be in trouble for breaking the Sacred Rule of the Couch, but she didn’t seem mad. In fact, I saw something soften in her eyes as she looked at us.
Jackson let out a snore. It nearly made the windows shake. A giant pool of drool marked his spot on the couch. But, to my surprise, Miss Josie didn’t get angry.
“Do you want to eat, Capone?” she asked, her voice soft. I lowered my head back to Mr. Nate’s chest. I did not want to eat. I never wanted to eat again.
Her face filled with concern. “Poor puppy,” she said, and then her eyes rested on Mr. Nate, who was twisted in an uncomfortable position on the small couch. “Poor man.”
She touched his shoulder, and his eyes opened. “Good morning,” he said, his voice scratchy and rough. He sat up carefully, keeping me on his lap. “How’s the patient this morning?”
“He doesn’t want to eat. I already called the vet. I’ll take him there in an hour.” She paused. “Thanks for staying last night. I set my alarm, but I must have shut it off in my sleep.”
“No. I turned it off. The last time I took him out, I had a feeling he was done. He slept the rest of the night.” He tilted his head back and forth, stretching out his neck. “By the way, it’s a good thing Capone had his little problem last night. We interrupted someone trying to come in through the side door.”
Miss Josie put a hand over her mouth. “Are you serious?”
“Unfortunately, yes, but I scared them by turning on the lights and making threatening noises. I also grabbed your broom, which was extremely intimidating,” Mr. Nate said with a little laugh.
“It’s scary,” she said. “I don’t understand why this keeps happening.”
“You’ve already had a few break-ins, right?”
“Yes, which is why Anne got Capone for me in the first place. I have a new alarm system, too, but she thought a dog might help. I guess she was right,” said Miss Josie. “Although she thought his barking would keep intruders away, not his intestinal distress.”
“Diarrhea is an unusual theft deterrent, but it worked,” said Mr. Nate, petting my head. “It worries me, though. What could they be after?”
“I have no idea. The first time I had a break-in, they left before doing any significant damage, but the second time they tried to get into the vault. That’s the place where I keep the most valuable inventory.” Miss Josie looked down at me, her eyes kind. “Anyway, I’m glad Capone didn’t have to do anything heroic. He’s a licker, not a fighter.”
I gave her another half-hearted wag of my tail. Thump, thump, thump.
“I put the padlock back on the door,” said Mr. Nate, “but you should still call the police.”
“I will as soon as we get back from Capone’s appointment.”
Jackson woke up, bleary-eyed, and got awkwardly to his feet. “Where the heck am I?”
Mr. Nate cringed when he saw the puddle of drool Jackson left on Miss Josie’s pretty couch. “Sorry. I’ll clean it. Where are your paper towels?”
She touched his arm. “It’s fine. Jackson is welcome to drool on my couch anytime. I owe you that much, at least.”
His gaze locked on hers. “You don’t owe me. It was the neighborly thing to do.”
“Neighborly,” said Miss Josie with a tiny frown. If I didn’t know better, I would have almost said she seemed disappointed, but I didn’t understand why. Women were such confusing creatures.
He glanced at his watch. “I’d better go. We’ll see both of you later.”
Mr. Nate and Jackson left, and by the time Miss Josie dressed, I had gone from feeling poorly to trembling in absolute agony. I grew so weak I could barely stand. She ended up carrying me to the car, not an easy task. A First Impressions coffee cup sat on the roof near the driver’s side. She put me down, then read the words written on the side of the cup in black marker.
“Chapter Four: He should have danced with Lizzie at Meryton. Big mistake. Almost as bad as Capone eating the peony bushes.” She rolled her eyes, a smile tugging at her lips. “He does not give up.”
She put me on the passenger seat and stuck the coffee in the cup holder in between us. It smelled good, like whipped cream and happiness, but I was too sick to appreciate it. I flopped down on my belly and moaned. Being on death’s door was awful.
Miss Josie sipped on her coffee as she drove the short distance to the vet, shooting me worried glances the whole time. My stomach made funny, gurgling sounds, but nothing else shot out. Although happy about no longer erupting like Old Faithful, I was definitely dying. How could a dog feel this bad and survive? I wish I’d written out a will. I would have left my Orange Snuggle Bunny to Jackson and my special chew rope to Gracie. Miss Josie could have the rest, but I didn’t want to leave Rocco anything. My only regret was I didn’t poop on his bed last night. I thought about it, and the naughty voice inside my head told me to do it, but I resisted.
Note to self: Next time, poop on Rocco’s bed.
As we waited in the exam room for Doc McHottie, Miss Josie continued to sip her coffee as she gently stroked my head. She’d pulled me up onto the chair next to her, and I sprawled across her lap.
“Poor puppy,” she said. “You’ll be better soon. I promise.”
I gave her hand a small, sad lick. I didn’t have the heart to tell her she was wrong. She’d be so sorry when she realized I wouldn’t make it. I’d be sad too. What I wouldn’t give for one more day, and another chance to help Miss Josie find her Mr. Darcy.
Doc McHottie came in, all raven black hair and kind green eyes, and made a tsking sound when he saw me. “Capone. What happened to you, buddy?” he asked as he washed his hands. “I didn’t expect to see you until Saturday.”
“Saturday?” asked Miss Josie, frowning in confusion.
He raised one dark eyebrow at her. “The picnic with Capone and Wrigley. Did you forget?”
Her cheeks turned bright pink. “Of course, I didn’t forget.” He gave her a steady look, and she winced. “Yes, I forgot. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t worry about it. You’ve had a lot on your mind. Let’s have a look at poor Capone.”
He let me stay on Miss Josie’s lap rather than taking me to the shiny metal exam table. I was grateful for his thoughtfulness. Since I would die soon, I wanted it to be in the arms of the woman I loved.
Doc McHottie put on his stethoscope and listened to my tummy. “Has he eaten anything unusual?”
I looked up at Miss Josie as she looked down at me. “Define unusual,” she said.
He sighed. “Why don’t you tell me what he ate in the last twenty-four hours or so?”
“Well, let me think. Rabbit poo. Rocks. Shoes. A leaf. Part of a pen. A ponytail holder. There could be more. I can’t find my tights, and I pulled ribbons out of his bottom the other day. He also ate part of my peony bush. My neighbor said those are mildly toxic for dogs.”
Doc McHottie stared at her in shock. “We’re going to have to do an x-ray. Many of those things could get lodged in his digestive tract and cause a serious obstruction. He should be better supervised, Josie. If something is stuck, he’ll need surgery.”
“I’m sorry,” she said, and I heard a catch in her voice. “I do watch him, I swear, but he’s sneaky. He has a gift.”
Note to self: I’m gifted. Who knew?
“Let me get the x-ray. I’ll bring Capone back in a few minutes.”
As he carried me out of the room, I stared over his shoulder at Miss Josie and whimpered, knowing this could be the last time I saw her. It was tragic. She finally liked me, and now she was about to lose me forever.
I wondered what might show up in the x-ray. Miss Josie had no idea about the other things I’d ingested when she hadn’t been looking, like the slippers, an entire stick of butter (wrapper and all) and some of Miss Josie’s dental floss. I’d also done some counter surfing while Miss Josie took a shower yesterday. The floss had been a bonus find, but I’d chewed on her toothbrush, too. She had no idea. I’d left it on the counter, and she used it as soon as she got out of the shower. She didn’t seem to notice it was covered in dog drool and had tooth marks on the side. I blame the steam-filled bathroom and the lack of glasses on Miss Josie’s part.
When Doc McHottie brought me back to the exam room, Miss Josie clutched a tissue in her hands and dabbed her eyes. “What did you find?” she asked.
He smiled at her reassuringly. “Nothing at all. Whatever he ate, he seems to have gotten it all out. Your dog’s intestines are empty, except for a great deal of gas.”
Almost on cue, a loud fart erupted from my nether regions. I ducked my head sheepishly as Miss Josie waved a hand in front of her nose. “What made him so sick?”
“Your neighbor’s hunch about the peony bushes might be correct. I’m going to give him anti-nausea meds, antibiotics, and special food. It’s bland, and it’ll help him recover. He should be as right as rain in time for our picnic on Saturday. If you still want to go.”
“I do,” she said, giving him a grateful smile. “Are you sure he’s going to be okay?”
“Yes,” he said. “I’ll send what he needs to the front desk. Keep a better eye on him and call me if he has any problems. Otherwise, I’ll meet up with you at noon on Saturday. Sound like a plan?”
“It does,” said Miss Josie. “And thank you.”
“All in a day’s work, ma’am,” he said, and he swooshed out of the room, his white coat fluttering like a cape.
A superhero, a gentleman, a cowboy, and a vet. Also, he wasn’t leaving any time soon. I may have found the perfect man for Miss Josie. What more could she possibly want? And she’d met him all because of me.
At the rate I was going, I’d have this wrapped up in no time. I’d found a Mr. Darcy for Miss Josie on my first try. This good deed stuff? Not as tricky as I’d thought.