“If he’s howling before his two-hour feed you might feed him a little more than on the line. Use your judgement.”
Liz went through the milk recipe as well, explaining to her where to get the ingredients. “We’ll send enough with you to get you started for a few days. Dr. Marsh said that we’ll eat the cost of his care up to now but anything going forward will be your responsibility.”
BB nodded, her head spinning with all of the instructions. “That’s fine. I can pay for what he’s needed now if you want me to.”
The tech shook her head. “Nah. You’ll have enough bills down the road with him,” she laughed.
Within an amazingly short amount of time BB was walking out the door with a tiny, tiny baby cradled in a towel, and a bag of care items. As she settled him into a basket she had on the car floorboard she had to shake her head at how quickly things could change in life.
Chapter Three
Frankie was aggravated when she realized the towel was alive. She growled and harrumphed, standing on her back legs to try to see what BB carried. BB lowered the bundle enough so that Frankie could get a whiff of the baby.
Frankie growled again, until the little guy let out a tiny whimper. Her head cocked and her dark ears went straight up, and she nosed forward aggressively. “Be gentle,” BB ordered.
Frankie didn’t back off, though. She snuffled at the pup, trying to get him to move again. He let out a cry, sounding weak and lonely, and Frankie seemed to respond. BB wondered how many pups had been in the litter. The little guy was already vulnerable. Being without his littermates would make him more so.
Frankie didn’t leave her side as BB went about setting up a place for the puppy to stay. She decided to use the laundry room, with a baby gate up to block the doorway and keep Frankie out. She didn’t think the older dog would deliberately hurt the puppy, but in her enthusiasm she could probably injure him. Frankie weighed every bit of a solid thirty pounds. Maybe once the pup had grown a little they could think about integrating.
Lincoln was going to kill her. No, he wouldn’t. He would take one look at that tiny little shape and fall in love like she had. Now to come up with a name. Marty made her think McFly, and that was not very cool.
“Frankie and Johnny? No, that’s too obvious. Chili? How about Bleu Louie? Seems appropriate,” she murmured, running her finger down his head.
For a solid week BB cared for Bleu Louie, barely getting any sleep. The first couple of days were the hardest, placing the tube and worrying about getting the measurements just right. It was amazing how full his little gut would fill up. Then she had to stimulate him to go to the bathroom with warm, wet paper towels. Not her favorite job at all, but everything seemed to be working correctly. After the third day of antibiotics his breathing didn’t have that raspy quality, and some of her worry began to ease.
Every day she weighed him on her digital food scale, and every day the grams kept going up, slowly but steadily. By the end of the first week he was markedly bigger, and his eyes were opening even more.
And every day, though she was dragging-ass tired, she fell more in love.
When she’d gotten Frankie years ago she’d been four times the size of Louie. She’d been healthy and robust and a chewer from hell. And the attitude! Even when she was little the dog would backtalk BB like she understood every word BB said. It had both tickled BB and infuriated her. Eventually they’d settled into a good relationship and she couldn’t imagine being without her now.
BB knew it was too soon but she hoped that Lincoln would call so she could talk to him about everything. He would understand how conflicted she was over the puppy. For the first few days she’d been reserved, afraid to get more attached, but the more he thrived the more she fell in love.
And she wanted to talk to him about the fear she’d been fighting that she wouldn’t be enough. Which was ridiculous because she was a strong, independent woman. Caring for a puppy like this, though, was a little outside of her realm of experience.
Mary came over twice that first week just to check on her and make sure she was eating and everything. BB appreciated the contact, as well as the confirmation of her own thinking about a few things. Louie was eating more and sleeping a little longer, which BB appreciated, and she’d stretched out the space between feedings to every two and a half hours.
“I don’t think that’s an issue,” Mary said, eyeing his rotund little bod. “He’s obviously still gaining weight, so…”
“Yeah,” BB agreed. “He goes in the end of this week for a check-up.”
“When can they do the surgery?”
BB shook her head. “Not for a couple months, I don’t think. I’ve been researching on-line and the age varies. I think it depends upon the confidence of the veterinarian and the health of the puppy.”
Mary volunteered to take a feeding to let BB take a nap, but she waved the offer away. “Honestly, I would be laying in bed worrying about him,” she laughed.
“If you change your mind let me know. I’m not far away. I can run over any time.”
“Thanks, Mary. I just appreciate knowing I have support, you know?”
Mary hugged her. “We wives and almost-wives have to stick together.”
She winked as she headed out the door.
BB settled into a rhythm of feeding, napping and working. She had a University sweatshirt with a hand-warmer pocket in front that Louie fit into perfectly. She could handle and rub the puppy as
