Page 31 of Always Almost You

The dog stretched forward and licked his chin.

Mike laughed and stood. “Okay, buddy. Stay with me.”

He patted his thigh, and they moved through the impatient travelers. The dog stayed glued to his side, brushing Mike’s leg with every step.

As a loyalty member with a reservation, Mike bypassed the rental line and headed directly to the parking garage. The app had already assigned him a full-size SUV. They found it within minutes. Mike opened the rear passenger door and tossed his backpack into the back seat. “Go on. Jump in.”

The dog sat, looking at Mike, then at the open door, then back at Mike.

“I know you can jump. I saw you get down from a retaining wall last night. What’s the holdup?”

The dog gave a short, expressive woof.

Mike squinted at him. “You’re more of a shotgun guy, aren’t you?”

The dog’s ears twitched.

“It’s only ten minutes to the vet,” Mike said. “I’ll allow it this time.” He shut the back door. The dog circled the SUV with him and hopped neatly into the front passenger seat without being asked. Mike reached in and ruffled his ears. “That’s what I thought.”

Ten minutes later, they entered the animal clinic. The waiting room smelled faintly of disinfectant and wet fur. They approached the counter. A young receptionist with pink-and-purple hair looked up and smiled.

“I called earlier about having a stray scanned for a microchip,” Mike said.

Her eyes lit up. “Yes! I remember you. You talked to me.” She leaned over the counter to look at the dog. “Oh my goodness, he’s handsome. Is this him?”

Mike nodded. “It’s hard to believe someone isn’t desperately looking for him.”

A woman carrying an indignant cat in a carrier stepped in behind them.

“Have a seat in the dog area,” the receptionist said, gesturing toward a sign with a paw print. “I’ll check in this unhappy cat and then take your guy back for a scan.”

They sat down and she soon reappeared with a leash bearing the clinic’s name. She slipped it gently over the dog’s head. “Come on, sweetheart. This won’t hurt.”

The dog followed her without hesitation.

Mike rubbed his palms together as he waited. His head told him the best outcome would be reuniting this dog with a loving family. But his heart longed for a different outcome.

He opened the airline’s app on his phone to learn if they could fly home. The dog was too large to fly in the cabin, and it was too cold to safely transport him in the cargo hold. Adopting a seventy-plus-pound dog days before Christmas, on the opposite side of the country, meant driving from Charleston back to Los Angeles. Four long days on the road, assuming the weather cooperated. He exhaled slowly. Practicalities be damned. He wanted this dog.

The receptionist returned, the dog pulling eagerly toward Mike. She shook her head. “I’m sorry, sir. No microchip.”

Mike stood, fighting the smile struggling to break free. “What would you suggest I do to find his owner?”

“You could drive around the area where you found him and look for flyers,” she said. “Where did you pick him up?”

Mike gave her the name of the airport hotel.

She groaned. “You’d be surprised how many dogs get dumped out there. He appears young and healthy. Athletic dogs can cover a lot of ground. Are you local?”

“No,” Mike said. “I’m from L.A. and heading to Charleston for Christmas.”

She nodded thoughtfully. “You could drop him at a shelter. Call first to confirm space. They’d care for him until he’s adopted.” She turned to retrieve a list.

“Actually,” Mike said, the words arriving before he had time to second-guess them. “I’d like to adopt him.” The conviction in his voice surprised him.

The receptionist raised her eyebrows. “Really?”

“Definitely. Checking for a microchip was the right thing to do, but I’ve been hoping he’d be mine since last night.” His hand settled on the dog’s head.