Page 19 of Property of Mongrel

Mongrel’s chuckle has me smiling, especially since he’s made an effort to get to know JB. “What if I’m the one who has a surprise for you?” he asks JB.

“For me?” JB questions, his eyes going wide. “Really?”

“Yep,” Mongrel replies. “But you need to finish what Miss Addy has you doing first, then I’ll give it to you.”

“A surprise,” JB whispers to himself. “The worst thing that happened to me has given me some of the best people ever.” I see Mongrel’s head turn at JB’s words and realize he heard what the little boy said.

“Did I ever tell you how I got here, JB?” Mongrel asks.

“Nuh-uh,” JB says.

“Well, I was behind a friend’s girlfriend on my bike one day and some jerkface hit my back tire. I skidded off the road and ended up hurting my shoulder, so Dr. Albertson fixed it and that’s how I ended up being here with you while Miss Addy tortures us,” Mongrel says. I hold my breath because JB hasn’t opened up all that much, despite mine and even Darby’s best efforts. I mean, I know what happened, of course, but Mongrel doesn’t.

“Mama Rossi isn’t really my mom,” JB blurts out. Mongrel, sensing that what JB’s going to say is important, doesn’t utter a word, he merely listens. “She’s my foster mom, Mongrel, because my real mom and stepfather hurt me.”

“Sorry to hear that, little man,” Mongrel replies. “I went into foster care on my thirteenth birthday, but it was because my grandma got too sick to take care of me, my brother, and my three little sisters after our parents died. But your Mama Rossi seems like she cares a lot about you and that’s a good thing.”

JB sighs and my heart breaks because now I know what’s been bothering him. “Mama Rossi says that I’m available for adoption now, but until someone wants me, I can stay with her. Did you get adopted, Mongrel?”

Mongrel’s eyes meet mine; his look horrified as if he’s figured out that JB’s mom’s parental rights have been terminated. Since his father was never in the picture and there’s no other family, he’s now part of the system unless he gets adopted. Otherwise, he’ll age out of foster care like so many others.

“Naw, buddy, but I wasn’t a cute little kid either. I was a surly, grumpy teenager,” Mongrel finally says.

“You were grumpy?” JB asks, giggling.

“Oh, definitely. I had a huge chip on my shoulder, too, which means that everyone around me knew I had an attitude. But even though I never got adopted, I found a new family when I became a ranch hand at the Triple R Ranch, and now, I’ve got a bunch of club brothers who are my chosen family. Plus, my younger brother and an uncle found me recently, so I have them now too.”

“Does he look like you?” JB asks as I motion for him to slow his pedaling since it’s almost time for his buzzer to go off.

“He does, actually,” Mongrel replies, as he switches direction and does a figure eight instead of the alphabet. I may be a taskmaster with my patients, but I’m not cruel enough to make any of them try to write their ABCs backwards.

“Does he ride a motorcycle too?” JB asks as he stands next to Mongrel while he finishes his repetitions.

“Actually, he does, but it’s not a Harley,” Mongrel states, sounding disgusted. “Gotta fix that because no brother of mine is gonna ride a crotch rocket.” He finishes what he was doing and then crouches so he’s eye-to-eye with JB. “Now, how about we go into Miss Addy’s room so I can give you your surprise?”

As JB moves better and faster than he’s been doing, I look at Mongrel and mouth ‘thank you’ as I follow my young patient. Mongrel didn’t show him pity, although I’m sure he felt it, and he let him know that families come in all shapes and sizes. When we reach my office, I see a gift bag with JB’s name on it. Mongrel hands it to him and he also hands a box to me.

“What’s this?” I ask.

“It’s a thank you from my club brother’s ol’ lady, Gretchen,” he says. “Because of you, she’s been able to add several new things to her repertoire.”

“Go ahead, JB, you go first,” I tell the little boy who’s watching me.

He reaches into the gift bag, and I watch his eyes grow wide as he pulls out… cake pops? “Miss Addy!” he exclaims, “look at these! It’s a motorcycle and an Iron Man! Oh, and here’s a Hulk, too!”

“She made all the Avengers, buddy,” Mongrel says. He turns to me and adds, “Yours aren’t as fancy looking as his, but I suspect you’ll enjoy the flavors Gretchen chose for yours. They’re some of my favorites.”

I glance at one of the cake pops on the top and my eyes widen when I see the tag on it. “Hummingbird cake?” I whisper, “outside of chocolate cake, this is one of my absolute favorites.”

“When she decided to focus on this, she got some input from Constance and Maria and that was one of the first cakes she tried. It’s been a hit and I thought you might enjoy it too,” he says.

“Oh, I’m sure I will. Thank you so much, Mongrel,” I reply. “Okay, let’s get you guys scheduled for your next sessions.”

“Betty, maybe I should put him with another therapist,” I say as I dip a chip into my bowl of salsa. “Professionally, it’s not appropriate for me to date patients, but he ticks all my boxes.”

“How many more weeks does he have left?” she asks after dipping a chip into the queso she enjoys.

“He’s about halfway through, but I’m beyond thrilled with how his numbers look. Maybe I should just wait,” I grumble.