He touched the little cat’s ear and brushed the back of his hand across Lexie’s jaw. “You can call me Daddy,” he said, holding his breath.
Her big blue eyes blinked once, twice, then she buried a smile in the top of the kitten’s head. A dimple dented her pale cheek, but she didn’t say a word.
“All of those kittens have had their shots,” the saleswoman announced from behind John.
John looked down at the toe of his running shoe, disappointment tugging at his heart. “We’re just looking today,” he said as he stood.
“I could let you have that little tabby for fifty dollars. Now, that’s a real steal.”
John figured that with Lexie’s obsession for animals, if Georgeanne wanted her to have one, she would. “Her mother would probably kill me if I took her home with a kitten.”
“How about a puppy? I just got in a little dalmatian.”
“A dalmatian?” Lexie’s ears perked. “You gots a dalmatian?”
“Right over there.” The saleswoman pointed to a wall of glass kennels.
Lexie gently put the kitten back into the pen and moved toward the kennels. The glass cubicles were empty except for the dalmatian, a fat little husky asleep on its back, and a big rat curled up in a food bowl.
“What’s that?” Lexie asked as she pointed to the almost hairless rat with the enormous ears.
“That’s a Chihuahua. He’s a very sweet little dog.”
John didn’t think it should be allowed to be called a dog. It shook all over, looked pathetic, and gave dogs in general a bad name.
“Is it cold?” Lexie wondered, and pressed her forehead to the glass.
“I don’t think so. I try to keep him very warm.”
“He must be scared.” She placed her hand on the kennel and said, “He misses his mommy.”
“Oh no,” John said as the memory of wading out into the Pacific to rescue a little fish for her swam across his brain. There was no way he was going to pretend to save that stupid shivering dog. “No, he doesn’t miss his mommy. He likes living here alone. I bet he likes sleeping in his food dish. I bet he’s having a really good dream right now, and he’s shaking because he’s dreaming he’s in a strong wind.”
“Chihuahuas are a nervous breed,” the saleswoman informed him.
“Nervous?” John pointed to the dog. “He’s asleep.”
The woman smiled. “He just needs a little warmth and lovin‘.” Then she turned and walked through a set of swinging doors. A few seconds later the back of the glass kennel opened and a pair of hands reached for the dog curled up in the dish.
“We need to get going if we want to make the movie in time,” John said too late. The woman returned and shoved the dog into Lexie’s waiting arms.
“What’s his name?” Lexie asked as she looked down into the beady black eyes staring back at her.
“He doesn’t have a name,” the woman answered. “His owner gets to name him.”
The dog’s little pink tongue darted out and licked Lexie’s chin. “He likes me,” she laughed.
John looked at his watch, anxious to have Lexie and the dog part company. “The movie is going to start. We have to go now.”
“I’ve already seen it three times,” she said without taking her eyes from the dog. “You’re such a precious darlin‘,” she drawled, sounding amazingly like her mother. “Give me some sugar.”
“No.” John shook his head, suddenly feeling like a pilot trying to land an airplane on one engine. “Don’t exchange sugar.”
“He’s stopped shaking.” Lexie rubbed her cheek against the clog’s face and he licked her ear.
“You’ll have to give him back now.”
“But he loves me, and I love him. Can’t I keep him?”