Kara rolled her eyes. “Just keep watching. This is footage from yesterday. Make sure you’re looking at the pop-up tent in the bottom right corner.”
There were twenty-four doggy cams in Barkingham Palace, including one in each of the pet suites that could be accessed through their website with a password. But there was one public webcam with a live feed that ran twenty-four hours a day. Ashanti always found it interesting—and a bit disconcerting—that people watched the feed in the dead of night, when the dogs were all in their suites and nowhere near the public camera. There had to be something better on Netflix or Hulu.
“I don’t understand,” Ashanti said, throwing her hands up. “What am I looking for?”
“Just wait,” Kara said. “Riiiiight… there.”
Mark lifted the pop-up tent and unveiled Duchess and Puddin’ sharing one of Duchess Delights’ signature dog treats. They were eating itLady and the Tramp–style, each with an end between their teeth, their mouths nearly touching. The dogs looked up at Mark, then ran in opposite directions, like two teenagers who had been caught kissing under the bleachers.
Ashanti burst out laughing. “Okay, so maybe thingshavegotten out of hand between those two.”
“Shanti, do you understand what’s happening?” Kara asked, her voice frustrated.
“What?” she asked.
“Look at the number of views!” She pointed at the screen.
Ashanti squinted as she peered at the phone. “Does that say…”
“2.5 million,” Kara said. “And climbing. The video was posted to this IG account this morning and it’s already been shared over sixty thousand times.”
“Who posted it?” she asked, searching for the Instagram handle. “What does Jinyoung4Lyfe mean?”
“They’re a K-pop fan, but they’re also one of our regular viewers.”
“I didn’t realize we had regulars.”
“You know nothing about any of this, do you?” Kara asked.
“Hey, I know enough,” Ashanti said. She didn’t know nearly as much as she should. She left all the online stuff to Kara because she was good at it, and her labor came cheap. Basically, free.
“And that’s not the best part,” Kara said. Her fingers swiped across the screen. “Not only has that video blown up, so hasourIG account. Barkingham Palace has been holding steady at eight hundred fifty-three followers for the last month. Now…?”
Ashanti gasped when Kara turned the phone to face her again. “Over fifteen thousand?”
“It’s obscene,” Kara said. “Of course, I’ve been driving people to the YouTube channel all day in our Stories. I’m going to search through archived livestream footage and make some Reels to post to IG.”
Ashanti avoided social media as much as one could in this day and age. The thought of posting every aspect of her life on the Internet for strangers—even for friends—made her break out in hives. But she couldn’t expect Kara to handle this on her own.
“This means I will have to use Instagram more often, doesn’t it?” Ashanti asked.
“Yes, unless you want me to drop out of high school to become Barkingham Palace’s full-time social media manager. I think that’s the route we should go, to be honest.”
“I think we can manage between me and Deja,” Ashanti said.
“We can manage what?” Deja asked, sticking her head into the opened office door.
“Social media?” Ashanti said.
“I can do some TikTok dances,” Deja said. She shimmied her shoulders.
“Or maybe not,” Kara said.
Deja hooked a thumb toward the front of the building. “Umm, I don’t know what’s going on, but the phones have been ringing nonstop for the past two hours. I just had a woman call from Jackson, Mississippi, wanting to bring her Chihuahua down to spend a day at the daycare. Not because she wants to explore New Orleans. Coming to the daycare is the entire point of her trip.”
“And it starts,” Kara said. “We are officially a destination.” She plopped down in the office’s lone other chair, folded her hands behind her head, and propped her feet up on Ashanti’s desk.
“If you don’t get these shoes off my desk,” Ashanti said, shoving her purple tennis shoes away.
