Nonstop Spaniels (Novella)

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Authors: Linda O. Johnston
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person’s request. An occasional round of barks hid the happy exclamations of potential adopters.
    The closest pen held the miniature pinscher Marvin—along with some medium-sized terriers and a French bulldog mix.
    Beside me on the other side, Naya Fayler regarded me with a worried expression. “I don’t want to cause you any trouble, Lauren,” Naya said. “But I really love Marvin.”
    I’d gathered that. It was why I’d accompanied her and her husband Tom out here so quickly. I had sensed a pending adoption.
    “And in fact, we were here first,” Naya continued. “I filled out the application to adopt Marvin before we went inside to the party.”
    Naya appeared fiftyish, with short chestnut hair framing her face. Laugh lines crinkled at the edges of her blue eyes, but her skin was otherwise smooth and flawless, possibly the result of an excellent makeup job. She wore a dressy white tunic top over a long black skirt.
    Tom stood talking with Bev, a senior, experienced HotRescues volunteer who had come along to help at this mobile event. Tom’s hair had receded from his forehead a bit, and what was left was salt-and-pepper and short. He had wide cheeks and a broad smile revealing slightly yellowed teeth. He was the manager of the new subsidiary, HotPets Bling, and I had just met him and Naya at the party taking place in the store’s back room to celebrate the HotPets empire’s fifteenth anniversary.
    Dante DeFrancisco, the company’s owner, was also HotRescues’ generous benefactor. After he’d introduced me to Naya and Tom, they’d told us about their immediate bonding with Marvin, and that’s when I’d accompanied them outside.
    Not that I generally liked to okay a same-day adoption. But Dante had vouched for them. And they clearly were animal lovers.
    Bev had handed me the Faylers’ adoption application that they’d filled out before. I, too, was dressed up, in a shimmering blue shirtwaist dress and low heels—very different from my usual HotRescues knit shirt, jeans, and athletic shoes.
    I skimmed over the form, very aware of the still emotional woman at my other side. I had an idea how to handle her but needed to deal with this first.
    Everything on the application seemed in order. The Faylers owned their home, had no other pets right now—they’d lost an aging dog a month ago—and were empty nesters.
    As I was, sort of. My daughter and son were away in college, although Kevin’s school, Claremont McKenna College, wasn’t too far from L.A.
    I noticed something of particular interest. “You used to run your own pet grooming chain?” I asked.
    “That’s right,” Tom said, joining us. “But we sold out a few years back—nice profit, too, I might add. I already knew Dante from the pet industry, and he offered me a job with HotPets.”
    And under hobbies . . . “You fly a plane?” I’d seen all kinds of hobbies listed on our application, but this was the first time I’d seen that the potential adopters were pilots.
    “Yes—it helped us visit our grooming shops all over the western U.S. before. Now we just do it for fun.”
    All seemed fine. In fact, it was better than a lot of applications I reviewed and approved.
    That was a relief, since I would have had a difficult time vetoing an adoption by an executive of HotPets.
    But that woman remained at my side, eagerly awaiting my decision on Marvin. I motioned for her to join me, and we meandered toward the parking lot at the far side of the walkway.
    “I’m really sorry,” I lied. I’m seldom sorry about anything, and finding a great home for one of my shelter dogs was not something I ever regretted. “But there are extenuating circumstances beyond who saw Marvin first.” I didn’t need to explain that the Faylers had seen him first anyway. “Have you looked at any other dogs here?”
    She shook her head sadly. “I just really liked him.”
    “Well, let’s go see who else might fit even better with you.”
    I nodded at Bev as

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