My eyes flew open, and a giant “Awww” escaped my mouth. Of course no one was in the room to awww with me. It was just impossible to look at this tiny black muzzle and not say it.
This pup was an explosion of cute. With his sandy fur and teensy black ears, my heart expanded one puppy size.
Okay, he looked more like an itty-bitty sleeping guinea pig than a pug. A tan guinea pig with silky fur, a wrinkly forehead, and the sweetest pink heart-shaped nose. He yawned. I died of cute.
“You are the best thing ever. Look at you all snuggled up to your blanket.”
He grunted, but I knew he couldn’t hear or see me. According to my extensive research, puppies are born deaf, blind, and toothless (talk about a rough start) and stay that way until they reach two weeks old. They rely on their mamas for everything—food, baths, and warmth.
“But you, little guy, you’re on your own. Thank God for Dr. Kieklack, huh?”
I noted the tray of feeding syringes and formula on the veterinarian’s desk, as well as the cord running from the kennel to the outlet in the wall. I’d bet a dollar there was a heating pad under the puppy’s bed. A makeshift incubator. Being chilled was the leading cause of death in puppies—one obit I wouldn’t want to write.
His soft sides moved in and out with each shaky breath. One. Two. Three. Pause. I counted each breath like I had the power to keep him breathing. Nana said they’d done the same when I was in the NICU.
“You’re a fighter, you know,” I whispered. “Do you have a name? Because if you don’t, I’ll give you one. I’m good with names. I’m Vilonia, by the way.”
His front paw twitched.
Footsteps echoed in the hall. My five minutes had vanished. I glanced once more at the puppy that had experienced a lifetime of heartache in his first day of life. And that’s when his name came to me.
“Good-bye, Ray Charles. I like you already.”
• • •
I carried Max through the back door and into the warm sunlight, thanking him for his patience. That was the great thing about fish. They’re excellent waiters.
“See this sheet, Max?” I asked, holding his care sheet to the glass. “I’m going to follow these tips precisely. We’ll get you better in no time.” I sat Max back inside my handlebar’s basket and could have sworn over Mrs. Tooley’s dead body (may she rest in peace) that Max looked at me and winked.
That’s fish for “Thanks.”