“Mopsy gave birth and the puppies looked kind of strange. At first my parents thought it was a genetic throwback, but now the pups are bigger and it’s pretty clear they’re not Cocker Spaniels, they’re mutts. Mopsy must have hooked up with a dog in the park or something. My parents are so pissed—sorry I mean, they’re so annoyed—they want to get rid of the puppies right away.”
Toby was staring at him, clearly expecting some kind of reaction.
“Is…having mutts a bad thing?”
“God yes, my parents usually make a thousand dollars a puppy.”
“Bloody hell!”
“But that’s only for purebreds. These aren’t worth anything. It’s too early to say for sure, but I think they might be half-Rottweiler.”
Scott whistled. “I can see why your parents are annoyed. There’s not many people looking for a cuddly pet that’s half attack-dog, huh?”
“Oh, Rottweilers are sweet and mutts are a lot healthier than purebreds, but these pups were pre-ordered before they were even born. My parents just lost six thousand bucks and they’repissed. They want the puppies gone.”
“Like…in a shelter, gone?”
Toby looked at him with tortured eyes.
“They’ll put them down?Why? Surely it would be cheaper to sell them?”
Scott was basing this off his ex-girlfriend’s bulldog, whose euthanasia following a car accident had cost as much as a three course meal at The Ledbury.
Toby’s gaze dropped to the floor. “My dad…my dad has a firearms license.”
“Jesus Christ, but why can’t they justsell them? Sell them, or throw up an ad on Craigslist and give them away?”
“I’ve tried, but I can’t tell people what kind of dogs the puppies are, or how big they’ll be. No one’s interested. On top of that, the pups are too young to be away from their mum right now. It’ll mess them up.”
Scott would have pointed out that being ‘messed up’ had a clear advantage over being shot, but Toby already looked on the brink of tears and he didn’t want to push it. “Okay, so why were you late?”
“I was trying to get my mum to promise not to do anything to the pups while I was at work but…” he broke off, his lower lip quivering.
Scott walked around his desk and laid a hand on his assistant’s shoulder. “You’re okay, mate.”
Toby swiped a furious hand across his eyes. “Sorry. This is so embarrassing.”
“It isn’t. It’s a rough situation. Look, what can I do to help?”
“You don’t know anyone who wants six half-breed dogs, do you?”
No. But Scott was deeply, painfully aware of the conversation he’d had with Sam the night before. He hadn’t lied, hehadbeen thinking about getting a dog, even half-heartedly browsed some breeders’ websites. But looking at Toby’s tear-stained face, he knew he was nowhere near making a decision.
“I don’t know anyone who wants six dogs. I barely know someone who wants one.”
“Barely…?”
Scott chewed his tongue, but it was too late. Toby’s face lit up like a Christmas tree. “You can have them for free, I swear! You can have themandI’ll pay to have them vaccinated and they’re such, such good dogs, boss, I promise. You’ll love them!”
Scott held up his hands. “Mate, when I said I could help you out, I didn’t mean committing myself to six or evenonepuppy. I just moved here.”
“Okay, but what if you just come and looked at them? My parents are going out this afternoon, you could come over and check them out in person. I swear to God they’re the sweetest things alive.”
“I don’t—”
“Have a look at this.” Toby fumbled with his pockets and pulled out his phone. A few swipes and the screen was in Scott’s face showing six black and gold puppies lolling around their regal-looking mother. It was a low blow. The puppies were stretching their miniscule paws and yawning. Their mother, a pure gold dog-goddess was licking them intermittently and when she did, their eyes closed in silent ecstasy. Scott felt like someone had punched him in the chest. “They’re…cute.”
“Aren’t they?” Toby swiped across, playing another video of the puppies nursing. “If theyarehalf-Cocker Spaniel and half-Rottweilers, they’re called rockers. They’ll be loyal and protective and gentle and the Rottie should breed the Spaniel bird-brain out.”