Phoebe
I pressed my nose against a bright red rose and inhaled, intoxicated by its sweet fragrance. Violet stood beside me, nose up and sniffing as if she was enjoying my grandmother’s rosebushes too. I figured she might want a little break from being crawled over and sucked on, so we were taking a stroll around the backyard together.
Now that I’d gotten to know her a little better, I could tell when she was relaxed. Her tail went up, and she would sniff around like she was interested in her surroundings instead of just watching me like I might do something traitorous if she let her guard down. And right now, she looked awfully content. Maybe motherhood had mellowed her.
“We need to name your puppies,” I told her.
She looked up at me and wagged her tail. It had only been three days since they were born, but I was already tired of having to describe them when Taylor called for updates. “The brown one with the white blaze gained two ounces today.”
They needed names. And as I leaned in to smell another rose, I had a flash of inspiration. What if I named them after types of roses? That would be cute, and it was meaningful to my grandma.
“Let’s get you back inside and google some roses,” I said to Violet.
We went in through the back door, and she got a big drink of water. It wasn’t time for her next meal yet, but I gave her a couple of dog biscuits because she was a nursing mama and she deserved snacks, as far as I was concerned.
After Violet finished crunching through her biscuits, she went down the hall like a dutiful mom, curling up in her pen to let the puppies nurse. I sat on the bed and searched types of roses on my phone. The first one that caught my eye was Blaze. That was a perfect name for the brown male puppy with the white blaze on his face.
“One down, three to go,” I said, scrolling through more photos of roses. “Oh, there’s one called Queen Elizabeth.” I looked at the brown female puppy with her one white paw, the first puppy born. She also had the loudest cry and used it often. “The monarch is always the firstborn, and you’re kind of a drama queen. We can just call you Elizabeth for short.”
Next, I eyed the white puppy with brown spots. “What about Sunsprite? We could call you Sunny. That’s masculine enough, right?”
Violet watched me, sprawled on her side while they nursed. That only left the littlest puppy, the one that had given us such a scare. She was a rich chocolate brown with a white face.
“I’ve got it,” I told her. “Cherry Parfait, and we’ll call you Cherry, because you’re little. What do you think, Violet? Do you like the names I picked?”
She thumped her tail against the dog bed.
“I’ll take that as a yes. Okay, I’m going to take pictures of each puppy and text them to Taylor with their new names.”
I spent the next ten minutes or so doing just that, and then I sent them to Courtney and Emily too, because they were always bugging me for puppy updates. I even emailed a few pictures to my mom, who was eager to know what I was up to in Vermont and more than ready for me to come home.
While I was sending out photos, Elizabeth, Blaze, Sunny, and Cherry curled up for a nap together. Violet put her head down and closed her eyes too. Before I was tempted to join them, I went down the hall to the kitchen. I got out my laptop and booted it up to check the job listings in Boston. So far, I’d applied for a dozen or so new positions, but I hadn’t heard anything back, and I was starting to get worried.
I’d been here in Vermont for a week and a half already. I was behind on home renovations—thanks to Violet and her puppies—and I was burning through my savings at an alarming rate. But at the same time, I wasn’t ready to go back to Boston, and not just because of the dogs in my bedroom. Despite my setbacks, I felt relaxed and happy here. At the end of the week, I would play my second set at V and V, and I was going out to dinner with Taylor beforehand.
Remembering her suggestion, I typed up a message introducing myself and offering my services as a financial consultant. It wasn’t really my strong suit, but if the locals were willing to take a chance on me, it might help tide me over until I found a new full-time job.
My phone chimed with a new text message.
ADORABLE.
It was from Taylor, in response to the puppies’ names.
Thanks, I replied.Know any local Facebook groups where I could advertise my consulting services?
I’ll send you a list.
Well, that was promising. It would be a total game changer if I could find a way to cover my bills while I was here in Vermont. And since Taylor was helping me out, the least I could do was make good on my promise to her in return. I picked up my phone and dialed my dad.
“Hi, honey,” he said in lieu of hello. “How are things in Vermont?”
“A little bit crazy,” I admitted as a puppy squeal echoed down the hall. “Somehow, I got talked into fostering a mama dog and her puppies while I’m here.”
“What in the world? How did that happen?” he asked.
“You remember Taylor Donovan, right?”
“Of course,” he said. “You girls were best friends. If I had a dollar for every time I heard her name while you were growing up…”
