“What if it’s not?”
“You mean what if the puppies turn out to be half Golden Retriever?”
“Or Chihuahua? Whatever. What if she doesn’t even need a surgery?”
Millie steps out of the way and gestures at Manon who’s lying on a shimmery pink dog bed, looking hella pregnant with some big puppies. Or a lot of little ones. “Jesus, is she okay?”
Millie sighs. “Supposedly. I’m gonna be working from home for now.”
“Yeah.” The dog looks like she needs an assistive device.
“I have this theory that fetuses steal some of your life force. Like they take years off your life in order to grow. Like parasites.”
“Gross,” I say.
“Right? She’s never gonna be the same.”
“The logistics just…”
“I don’t get it either,” Millie sighs. “But…somehow he managed.”
“We’ll see.” I finally make it to my door. “Good luck.”
“Thanks. ‘Night, Evan.”
“Good night.”
After I’m safe inside and have removed the tag from Millie’s post, I set my Insta to private and decide to deal with clearing out all the notifications later.
It’s hard to hate Millie, but I’m pretty fucking close.
I have several texts now, too, regarding the post. Everyone who’s ever seen Apollo seems to be checking in on me and asking if he really did it. As I’m responding to a few of them, Deacon comes into my room. The door was open, so he didn’t knock. Apollo is with him, which I figured since neither of them were here when I got home.
“Walked him, fed him. It took him a while to do his business, but it got done. Talked to Millie, too. She said she’s really sorry about the post.”
“Did you see it?” I ask from the center of my bed.
“Yeah. She took it down since she met her funding goal. We should talk about getting Apollo fixed.”
“Apollo couldn’t possibly have?—”
“I get it. But still. Unless you’re planning to breed him?—”
“No.”
“Then—”
“Fine,” I say with a sigh. “I’ll call the vet.”
Apollo has now noticed me, and he’s making his way over. He acts like he’s ten and arthritic, but he’s really two and lazy as fuck. I love this damn dog. It’s extremely irritating to think people might be saying bad things about him on the internetbecause I have a neighbor with no filter. I bend over to pet and kiss him. He climbs on the bed, and his head lands on my lap with a thud.
“You busy?” Deacon asks.
“No,” I say.
“Can I talk to you?”
I straighten up. “Is this gonna be about Isaac?”
