I groaned. “You seriously can’t call her that. How are you going to handle the reactions when you’re shouting that out at her on walks, or… or, oh my god, in your clubhouse? Won’t your club brothers give you hell for that?”
“Fuck,” he murmured, slumping in the seat as he settled the pup in his lap, “you’re right. They’d be real assholes about it. I don’t know what to call her though. What the hell do people call dogs, especially girl dogs?”
“It’s not that hard. What girl names come to mind?”
Rocket shrugged. “Only the names of women I know, and I don’t think their men would like that. I’m not exactly that imaginative about this shit.”
I pulled into the car park, and turned off the engine.
“There must be someone important to you, someone whose name might work.”
Rocket grimaced, dragging a hand over his unruly brown hair.
“Fuck’s sake. There’s nobody, okay? I have my club, and that’s it.”
Wow, that sounded sad as fuck. Why did he have no family? Why did he have nobody but the club?
“The club? Just your Phoenix brothers?”
He glared at me. “Yeah, just my fucking…wait… what about Nix? That’s cute, right?”
He’d gone from glaring to grinning widely, so proud of himself, and who could blame him? I really liked that for her name, and he was already nuzzling her again and calling her Nixie.
“Wasn’t so hard, was it?” I pointed out as I got out of the car and waited for him to join me.
“You know, I did a good thing. I saved this little baby, so why am I being punished?”
I side-eyed him as I reached the door and he pushed it open ahead of me, letting me pass.
“Punished?”
“Yeah, every minute with you is like being verbally fucking spanked.”
And why did that have me smiling as I followed him? Not because I liked being mean, but because he seemed to enjoy my new attitude. He gave as good as he got, and that made it easier to just banter with him in our verbally abusive way.
“That’s as close as you’re getting to my hand on your ass,” I added, moving into the aisle of dog beds, to get him started. His eyes grew really wide as he stared at the ridiculously opulent selection and turned helplessly to me.
“Jesus fuck, how do I choose?”
I pointed out a few, soft, not overly fluffy beds, small enough for a dachshund to find comfortable, without being too huge. It was about finding the beds that were suitable, rather than pretty.
“What about when she outgrows it?”
“Rocket, she won’t get bigger than this bed can cope with. She’s a dachshund, or at least some designer crossbreed containing that species.”
“Huh. What about those ones that look like a… well… I don’t wanna say what something with just a hole for access looks like, but you get me.”
He pointed and I giggled. I fucking giggled.Me.
“I mean, you could, but you might find it hard to coax her back out of there. As young as she is, she might get overwhelmed when she comes out of it, because it’s so enclosed and protective.”
“I want her safe though, don’t I?”
Yes. Yes that’s all we want from animal owners, right? Protect the furbabies, and love them like family. That’s what they fucking deserve.
“Up to you, but don’t come crying to me if she bites you when you try to get her out.”
Rocket snorted, grabbing one of those beds and tucking it awkwardly under his arm.
