“Only if they’re unhappy,” the girl protested. She glanced down as Barker thumped on the ground with one fist, then looked up at Bitch and smiled a little, “And ours were happy.”
Ahh. That’s fair, if she’s right.
Bitch seemed to accept that.
“Do you have a dog now?” I asked.
She shook her head. “I don’t have the money. Or I didn’t have money, before Leviathan came. Student loans and living expenses kind of ate up whatever I made. I’m hoping to save up enough with the work I’m doing now.”
Well, at least Coil seems to pay well. And Rachel might appreciate the notion that the money earned from taking care of her dogs goes to taking care of another dog.
Assuming it’s about taking care of the dog rather than buying one. I don’t think Rachel appreciates people buying dogs when there are so many people giving puppies away and shelters housing dogs just waiting for adoption.
“You buying the dog?” Bitch asked. She seemed interested, now, but there was still a tension, as if she was waiting for the other shoe to drop. One wrong answer, and this could turn ugly.
Yeah, that did get her attention.
I could only hope the girl had the right answers.
“I kind of want another greyhound, because it’s what I grew up with… and you’ll get greyhounds from an animal rescue ninety percent of the time. There’s one I’m pretty fond of that’s in one of your shelters, but he’s yours, of course.”
She’d taken my advice about respecting Bitch’s ownership. Good.