But Dylan was quickly showing me how empty it had been.
First came the carpets—two of them, because the room was so big.
“The dogs need them for traction,” she told me as she unrolled one rug while I held up the edge of the bed for her to slide it under.
The dog beds were expected.
Then there was a couch.
Lamps.
A decorative storage cabinet she asked Coach to make to store extra treats in.
Then there were extra blankets and pillows.
A desk and chair so she could sit and watch dog training videos and take notes.
Next came Molly’s whelping pen.
Which was practically fucking designer. I was tempted to sleep in the damn thing. Molly agreed. She kept stealing all the toys for all the club animals and putting them in the pen. Apparently, that behavior would only get stronger as she got closer to delivery. All the blankets, towels, or pillows she could find would end up there. So Dylan was prepared with a bunch of them just for her.
“Need a hand?” I asked as she pushed open the bedroom door and came in carrying four stacked delivery boxes.
“No, I…” The top box crashed to the floor. “Yes,” she admitted with an eye roll.
With a little chuckle, I got off the bed and helped her with the boxes.
“What’d you order?” I asked.
“Just some things for the puppies: shampoo, little collars, enzyme cleaner, litter boxes, substrate. I’ve been watching some videos from some ethical breeders explaining how they start potty training puppies way before they ever go to their forever homes. I want to give it a try. Hey, buddy, how are you feeling?” she asked, petting Mack’s blocky head as he slept on our bed, his cone of shame around his face.
We’d had him fixed two days before. So far, he’d been handling it like a champ. Though an argument could be made for the pain meds he was on.
Mack let out a loud exhale.
“I know. Just wait until you see you’ve got bits missing,” she said with a head shake. “But we don’t need any more puppies. Your stud days are behind you. Where’s Sugar?” she asked, spotting Molly asleep on the couch.
“Syn took her for a walk. She’s not happy that you left without her.”
“I know. I’m trying to ease her into it.”
Dylan had decided to get herself a continuous glucose monitor once Rook assured her that she could log her data anonymously with a burner phone. There was no way it linked back to her if she didn’t want it to. So she never had to worry about the cops possibly using it to track her (or our) movements.
She’d been nervous about it at first, had been annoyed at the little plastic circle on the back of her arm.
It wasn’t long, though, before the little device made a major difference in her daily life. No more sticking herself a dozen times a day. No more wondering if she didn’t test enough. There was a lot less guesswork, a lot less uncertainty. She would simply get an alert on her phone if she was too high or too low.
Did Sugar still alert her too? Yes, of course. It’s what she was trained to do. But the device was faster and more precise. And,well, very portable. While we did still take Sugar a lot of places with us, we no longerhadto.
So Sugar was slowly being phased into retirement. She would just be a beloved member of the family, not also a necessary medical device.
Even if Sugar didn’t understand why she wasn’t going with her mom everywhere anymore.
“She’ll adjust. Everything is still so new.”
Even if, somehow, this felt like how it had always been. That was how deeply we’d settled into this new life with each other and the dogs. It was so easy. Right. Comfortable.
But it was a lot of change for Sugar, who was used to her whole world just being Dylan. And to Mack and Molly, who had been so used to abuse.
