“Don’t shake,” Marcy said.
Mika, the German Shepherd, stepped over the doorway into the front hall and shook snow onto the tiles.
“That’s the thanks I get for taking you for a walk in a snowstorm.”
The dog padded over to the box where her five, two-week puppies, slept soundly. She must have decided she could have more time off because she went to her dish, ate some kibbles and drank water, before settling next to the canine nursery and closing her eyes.
Jonathan, Marcy's husband, hadn’t wanted a dog, much less puppies. No one knew who the father was. Mika had run off when she was in heat, came back with the equivalent of a doggy smile, Jonathan claimed. He was none too happy about Marcy’s insistence that they find good homes rather than turn them over to the Animal Rescue League when they were ready. So far, she had two prospective homes. She wasn’t sure if she convince three more of her friends to take a pup.
Marcy poured herself a cup of coffee and watched the snow falling outside. She could barely see the neighbor’s house. She must have been nuts to take the dog out in that, but she had always loved snowstorms.
She decided to top off the seed in the parakeet cage, as Johan Sebastian Beak and Motseed watched her. It was a huge cage taking up a quarter of the dining room. Jonathan had insisted. He thought birds were the only rational pet for the children to have.
As if her husband felt her thinking of him, her phone rang.
“Hi honey,” he said. “I saw over here on the BBC that you are having a good Nor’Easter back in Boston. You all okay?”
She assured him everything was under control. He needn’t worry himself in London, just concentrate on the conference which he was attending. They had electricity and the roof hadn’t collapsed. She listened to his list of instructions of what to do in case of a disaster. He was a worrier and prepared for the worse.
After saying their traditional “I
love yous” they hung up. She realized that the house was quiet. What were her
twins up to? Nine-year old Kimmie and Nancy were normally full of chatter that
drifted from the second floor to the first. Now there was only silence.
The girls were not anywhere on the first floor, nor in their bedrooms. They almost never went into their parents’ bedroom and never into the third bedroom that she used as a home office to do her PR work for three clients.
When she called their names, there was no answer. She called again.
“Up here Mummy.”
She wasn’t sure which girl’s voice it was, but it came from the attic.
Rather than ask what they were doing, she climbed the stairs. “What’s up?”
“Nothing,” two voices responded in unison. The girls were standing side-by-side, blocking her view of something.
“Step aside, girls.”
They did.
An old dishpan and a crate here lined with Marcy’s best towels. A tiger cat and a black cat -- each were each nursing three new-born kittens.
“Don’t throw them out, Mummy please,” Kimmie said.
“They’ll die in the storm.” Nancy fell on her knees, her hands in prayer form.
“Of course, I won’t. Just tell me how, why…”
“Yesterday when the storm started we saw them on the porch.” Kimmie.
“They were cold.” Nancy.
“They were acting like Meredith’s cat when she was about to have babies.” Kimmie.
“We couldn’t leave them out there.” Nancy.
“Of course, you couldn’t.”
Marcy was trying to figure out what to feed the mother cats, what to tell Jonathan and where she could find homes for the kittens as well as the puppies.
Visit D-L's website https://dlnelsonwriter.com
Posts
No comments:
Post a Comment