“Nope. Nothing but barbed wire in here.” I jabbed a finger against my ribs before opening the fridge. I took out the chicken and seasoned it with herbs and lemon juice. Then I chopped some carrots and potatoes and put it all in the oven. “Want some pretzel sticks while it cooks?”
“You’ve always been a fan of pretzel sticks,” Taylor said. “Sure.”
I got out the bag of pretzels and poured some into a bowl, and then I grabbed two Shipley ciders from the fridge. They were left over from the six-pack Taylor had brought yesterday when we put down the laminate flooring. I wasn’t always a fan of hard cider, but this was good, and it was local too.
We each popped open a bottle, and Taylor went to check on Violet. I turned on the TV to save us from having to come up with enough conversation to fill the evening. My dad had canceled the cable months ago, so I logged into my Netflix account and put on a nature documentary. Taylor did love nature, after all.
“Nothing yet,” she said as she came back into the living room. She sat beside me on the couch, and we ate pretzels and drank cider while we watched a band of monkeys in Malaysia battle over territory. Every ten minutes or so, Taylor went to check on Violet.
I was just getting invested in the outcome of the territory war when Taylor called from the bedroom.
“I think it’s time,” she said.
“Oh shit.” I bolted off the couch, almost knocking over my cider in my hurry. When I got to the bedroom, Violet was in the middle of her playpen, and even my untrained eyes could see she was pushing.
“You’re doing great, Violet,” Taylor said in a quiet, soothing voice. “What a good girl. You’re going to be such a good mama.”
I sat beside her on the bed, heart pounding as we watched Violet. We took turns encouraging her, because she wasreallypushing now, and her eyes looked kind of wild and frantic. I didn’t want to get in her way since we hadn’t known each other that long, but she kept looking at me when I spoke to her, and occasionally, her tail gave what might have been a small wag, which made me think she didn’t mind us being here with her.
“Oh,” I whispered. “Is that…is that a puppy?”
Something was starting to protrude beneath her tail. Violet turned around to sniff at it, giving it a few hesitant licks.
“It sure is,” Taylor said, sounding as awed as I felt.
“I’ve never watched anything be born before.” I pressed a hand against my chest, where my heart was still beating frantically, overwhelmed by the moment.
Violet gave another big push, and the puppy slid the rest of the way out. It looked black or maybe dark brown, still inside its birth sack. I gasped, and my hand slid into Taylor’s. She gave it a tight squeeze.
“What do we do?” I whispered.
“Nothing yet. Let’s give her a chance to take care of it on her own,” Taylor said quietly. “She needs to bite through the membrane and lick its face to clear the airways.”
We watched, transfixed, as Violet sniffed the puppy. Just when I was starting to get nervous, she nipped at the membrane, licking and biting until she revealed a perfect chocolate-brown puppy with one white paw. She kept licking, rocking its little body back and forth with her tongue, and it mewled, tiny paws waving in the air.
“Oh wow.” My eyes were unexpectedly moist. “She did it.”
“She sure did,” Taylor said. “Great job, Violet. What a beautiful baby you made.”
“It’s so little.” I’d never seen a newborn puppy before. This one was still wet, and its eyes were closed, ears flat against its head, giving it an odd, almost seal-like appearance.
“Can I have a quick look?” Taylor asked gently, lowering herself to the floor. She scooted closer to Violet, moving slowly so she didn’t startle the dog.
Violet watched closely but didn’t object when Taylor touched the puppy and then picked it up. She rubbed it with a cloth, helping to dry it, talking reassuringly to Violet the whole time. Then she peeked under the puppy’s tail before settling it against Violet’s belly.
She turned to me with a triumphant smile. “It’s a girl!”
14
Taylor
Violet licked and nuzzled her puppy as it began to nurse. Since everything seemed to be going well, I returned to the bed, sitting beside Phoebe. “I want to get her used to us handling them, and I also need to make sure their airways are clear and nothing’s visibly amiss, but it seems like Violet’s going to do the rest of the work for us. She’s doing a great job so far.”
“The puppy is so little,” Phoebe said, glossy-eyed with a big, giddy smile on her face.
Her joy over watching the puppy’s birth was going to be my undoing, because nothing made me softer than a woman who loved rescue dogs. “Do you want to name her?” I asked.
Phoebe’s head bobbed. “Oh please, can I?”
