So he took it to the sink and got some dish soap, which was gentle enough to wash ducks, right? Laird got the water running until it was warm, not hot, and zonked the little pup in there, washing gently. “Good thing we don’t have a flea problem, and hopefully he doesn’t have any ticks.”
“Oh, my gosh, don’t say that. I hate ticks. When I go trail running, that’s one of the things I’m always super paranoid about.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll look him over really good.” And in fact Laird did, after he was washed clean and all the mud wasgone. The little guy was white and fluffy and, after Laird dried him off with a towel, he checked him over completely for ticks, including in his ears and around his butt area.
“He seems clean of all sorts of vermin. I mean, I don’t know about worms. I guess we need to quarantine him from the cats until we know if they share a bacteria base?”
Devon chuckled. “You would think a nurse and an EMT would know that, but I’m not sure.”
“Well, a worm is a worm, right? So we’ll figure that out. But we’ll keep him separate from the cats. Do we have a crate or something?” They’d have to keep the little guy until they could figure out where he belonged. Surely something this cute and this little belonged to somebody. How had it ended up under their steps, though?
“Yeah, a big crate for the cats when they’re sick or smaller ones for when I have to transport them. But they should be squeaky clean, so I’ll get the big one.”
“Just tell me where it is, baby.” He handed off a puppy with a dry towel. He didn’t want Devon having to lift and carry something that big.
“Oh, it’s in the garage. They’re all sitting on a shelf on the back wall.”
“Got it.” Which meant another trip outside. So Laird grabbed the umbrella from next to the front door on the porch, and trudged out to get the big crate. He let himself into the detached garage, checking, like he did always, for leaks because the place was a little bit older. Then headed to the back wall. By the time he got back inside, Devon and the puppy were sitting on the couch, and all three of the cats were there sniffing curiously at the new phenomenon.
“What do they think?” Laird grabbed another big fluffy towel and put it in the bottom of the crate. Hedidn’t have any puppy pads or anything, so they would just have to wash whatever happened.
“Interested, but not homicidal. I’ll take it.” Devon chuckled softly. “So, I called the vet. They have an appointment in about an hour, believe it or not, and I think we should take him in and see if he’s microchipped and all the stuff. I can’t imagine anybody just deserting a puppy like this, small and so fancy.”
That was his lover—practical, sure. “All right, love. We’ll take him in, and we’ll see what we can do. Do you want to take it and leave it there?”
Devon stared at him. “Are you insane? The vets have enough problems and—No, I don’t want to take him to animal control. I think we let the shelter know we have him. I think we check for microchips and hope we find his owner, but no. No. Absolutely not. I’m not going to dump D’Artagnan on the street.”
“D’Artagnan.”
“Yes, that’s his name. I’m going to give him a name.”
Oh man, they had a dog. They so had a dog. There was no way at this point that they didn’t have a dog.
Unless he was someone else’s dog, but he had a feeling D’Artagnan was coming home with him again from the vet. Laird’s gut was usually pretty straight on.
“I need to get out there and make sure there’s no one else under the steps.”
Devon’s eyes went wide. “Oh my God, you don’t think somebody just left a whole litter there, do you?”
“I sure hope not, baby. That would be awful. But it’s been known to happen. If they thought it was someplace warm and dry and they couldn’t take care of him, I’ll go check.”
Lord, he’d hoped to hell they weren’t any more puppiesunder there. He never should have said anything. He should have just gone and done it. Devon was now gonna worry about the rest of this litter incessantly.
He got a rain jacket on and a flashlight in hand before he headed outside. If he did find a whole litter in here, he wondered what he would do. He supposed there were enough friends floating around of Devon’s that needed dogs that he could give them away.
Relief flooded Laird when there were no puppies under the stairs. He checked the whole perimeter of the house and even looked a little bit into the neighbor’s yards, and there just weren’t any other puppies. So, this little guy had made his way there on his own.
D’Artagnan. God help him.
He hurried in to reassure Devon. “No bonus puppies. Everything is clear, so far as the eye can see. Let’s get this little one to the vet and see if he’s microchipped.”
Devon nodded and pulled on his slicker. “I can’t decide if I want to hope that he has a family to go home to or if I want to hope he can come home with us.”
There was no good answer to that. “Let’s just be grateful that, no matter what, somebody wants him. Okay?”
Devon smiled at him. “You know, that’s absolutely right. It’s hard to potty train a puppy, and this may not be the perfect time. Right?”
Like he was going to get away with that, because Laird was going to be potty training this teeny tiny little puppy, he just knew it.
