Beaglemania by Linda O. Johnston Read Free Book Online Page A

Brooke’s papery skin drained away as if sucked quickly inside by an invisible vacuum. Her light amber eyes flooded with tears, making mine grow moist in empathy. I waited.
    “I love Cheyenne,” she said hoarsely. “I wish I could keep him, but . . . my home is being foreclosed on. I’m not sure where I’m going to live, or if . . . ” Her voice tapered off, and I realized that the emphasis on her last word was a statement.
    She believed she was dying.
    “Tell me about it,” I said gently, not sure how I could bear hearing her, but I felt certain she needed to talk.
    Her story was probably not unique these days, after the economic crises over the last few years. She had a heart condition, was on medication that helped but the stuff was expensive. Interestingly, she’d worked for a major private investigation firm as an operative—until she became too ill to go out in the field. They’d given her an inside desk job for a while, but as the economy slowed, so had their business. They had recently let her go. When she’d lost her job, she’d also lost her medical insurance, and the combination meant she would additionally lose her home.
    Now she was about to lose her beloved dog, too. But, unselfishly, she wanted to give Cheyenne the best possible chance at survival and happiness, no matter what happened to her.
    “Where are you living now?” I asked her.
    “I’m still in the house for the time being, but the bank has said they won’t extend that beyond another month or so. That’s why I need to make sure Cheyenne is taken care of right away.”
    “Got any family who could help?” I had to ask, but anticipated the reply.
    “Not really.”
    Cheyenne stood and put his head on Brooke’s knee. She bent over and hugged him.
    I wanted to hug them both. Fix things for them.
    Well, I couldn’t cure Brooke. But I had an idea about how to make things better for them, at least over the short term.
    “Okay,” I said briskly, standing. “Here’s what we’ll do. You take Cheyenne home with you for now. As Nina and I told you over the phone, we can help by supplying dog food. The moment the bank says that’s it, that you have to leave, you can bring Cheyenne back. If necessary, we’ll work out a good adoption for him, one where you’ll be able to visit if you want to. But before we get to that point, we’ll see if we can make things better.”
    Brooke looked up skeptically. “How?”
    “Can’t tell you now,” I replied. “And there are no guarantees. But let me do some checking, see if I can come up with anything so Cheyenne and you can stay together while you’re dealing with your illness. Is it a kind that could be . . .” I stopped. Her prognosis was really not my business.
    “Fatal?” she finished. “Potentially, although there are new medications and other options I could try. I’d have a better chance if my insurance company hadn’t dumped me, though.”
    “Got it,” I said cheerfully. “We’ll see what we can do. Are you okay to drive Cheyenne and you home?”
    “Well, yes,” she said, sitting up fully in her chair. Cheyenne backed away slightly, and for the first time he started really wagging his tail. “But—”
    “But you’d braced yourself for going back alone. I get it. Cheyenne doesn’t, though. Are you willing to take a chance on being able to keep him now?”
    “Well, yes,” she repeated. “But I don’t see how—”
    “Even if I can’t help, you’ll at least have had more time with Cheyenne. Isn’t it worth it to try?”
    “Oh, yes!” Brooke bent again to hug her best friend—and then came over to hug me.
    I only hoped I wasn’t just blowing smoke around both—all three—of us.
     
     
    But the HotRescues benefactor—who also contributed to other worthy causes—was out of town. His secretary said she’d give Dante my message but suspected I wouldn’t hear from him until the next day. He’d decided to confront a problem at a HotPets warehouse in the