If he was calling me, I was hopeful no one in my family was dead. I sat up as my dog, Daisy, who laid beside me, protested with a grunt.
“What’s going on, Charlie?” I asked.
“Well, I kept hearing weird sounds coming from my barn this morning and finally found the source. It’s a couple of puppies.”
I then understood why he was calling the local dog rescuer—namely, me¾before sunup. “Any sign of the mother?”
“None,” he said. “And all of my dogs are fixed, so they definitely aren’t mine.”
Bless him. If more people fixed their canines, we wouldn’t have an overpopulation. “How old are the puppies?” I asked.
“That I don’t know,” Charlie said. “They’re cute as heck though. Little brown, white and black things. They are cold, and I put down some wet food, which they ate up. But I can’t keep them, Gina.”
I sighed and rubbed my forehead. “Okay. Let me get some coffee and I’ll be over to take them.”
“Perfect. Thanks.”
After hanging up, I stroked Daisy’s head. I’d rescued her about a year ago and decided to keep her. A hound / Jack Russell Terrier mix, she and I shared a special bond. Namely, I could hear her speaking to me.
“What’s going on?” she asked sleepily.
“I have to go rescue some puppies.”
Her eyes flew open and she sat up. “Puppies? As in little, annoying dogs?”
With a snicker, I threw back my covers and shoved my feet into a pair of slippers. “Yes.”
“Gina!” she whined. “I hate puppies!”
“How in the world can you hate puppies?” I asked, placing my hands on my hips, very disappointed in my talking canine. “Nobody hates puppies!”
“They pee everywhere, they whine all the time, and they’re always hungry. They are sooo annoying.”
“You were a puppy once,” I reminded her as I slipped on my robe and grabbed my glasses from the nightstand.
“But I wasn’t like a regular puppy,” she sniffed. “I’ve always been a good dog.”
“I don’t know about that,” I muttered.
“What does that mean?”
“I can think of a few times you weren’t exactly a good dog, Daisy. Like the time you ripped up the stuffed toy, then ate the insides and threw it up. Or the time I unhooked your leash after the walk and you took off.”
“There was a rabbit!” she exclaimed. “I couldn’t help myself!”
“My point is that not every dog is perfect.”
“Most humans aren’t either,” she grumbled.
“I don’t disagree.” As a dog rescuer, I’d seen the worst humans could do. That probably had something to do with my general dislike of people.
After I stepped over two empty dog beds, I hurried down the hall to the kitchen where I found my other rescue, Banshee, waiting by the feeding bowls. The little white terrier had some food issues—mainly, she liked to eat and was always waiting for the next meal.
“Good morning, Banshee,” I said as I prepared the coffee pot. “I’ll feed you in a minute, but I wanted to let you know we have some puppies coming to live with us, okay?”
Silence. I could never hear any other dogs speaking, except for Daisy, even though I tried to communicate with them on a regular basis. Like I mentioned, my connection with Daisy was strong and unique.
With a shiver, I cranked up the heat. When my coffee was brewed, I slurped it down while running a brush through my blonde hair. Studying my reflection in the mirror, I ran my hand over my cheek and forehead, then decided that I looked pretty good for my mid-forties. If only my eyesight wasn’t so bad.
I grabbed another cup of coffee, then got dressed. Jeans, a sweatshirt, and my boots along with my parka, gloves and hat should keep me warm enough.
“Do you want to go out before I leave?” I asked Daisy, who was still curled up on the bed.
“And leave this heated blanket?” she asked. “Are you out of your mind? It’s cold outside!”
“Don’t pee in the house,” I said, wishing I could crawl back into bed.
When I stepped out into the dark morning, the cold hit me like a fist to the face, and I almost turned around. But… the puppies. They’d been in a barn all night. If they survived that, I could suffer a couple of hours with the knowledge that I’d soon be back in my warm house.
After turning on the car, I scraped the ice off the windshield, shoveled my driveway, then grabbed a couple of small dog carriers from the garage and threw them in the back seat. I’d meant to organize the space so I could fit my car in there over the winter, but I’d never gotten around to it. Slowly, I began my trek over to the Tupper farm.
The roads were a little snowy and definitely icy. Thankfully, the plow drove by, so everything should be clear on my way home.
Having lived in Heywood my whole life, I never tired of the little town, and I smiled as I drove down Comfort Road. Each of the stores to my right was decorated with miscellaneous festive decorations. Little white lights were strung from lamppost to lamppost while Christmas carols played through hidden speakers. Heywood had its faults, but celebrating Christmas wasn’t one of them. With the plows cleaning up the roads from yesterday’s snowfall, I imagined the town would be buzzing with tourists later in the afternoon. Every year we hosted the Heywood Christmas Festival at the Community Center, which was a really fun event. Santa and Mrs. Claus were in attendance and sometimes he brought his reindeer. Last year, Mrs. Claus had been murdered and we’d almost had to cancel the event, but I hated thinking about that unfortunate incident.
Once I was past Heywood proper, darkness swallowed me and I almost missed the turn off. As I tapped the break, my car began to fishtail. I belted out a curse while I white-knuckled the steering wheel and did my best to avoid the ditch.
Thankfully, I managed to right the car. Once I saw the Tupper household’s light in the distance, I sighed with relief. I’d made it to my destination!
