Page 11 of Eye on the Ball

“No! That’s a great name, though. Great book! They’re all puns!”

Ruby and Mike walked in from the back porch, and we exchanged hellos. Mike only gave me a cursory narrow-eyed stare instead of a full-on death glare. So, things were improving. When he’d first found out that Tess and I were sleeping together, the threats about tiger-skin rugs had come at me fast and frequently.

Mike was a retired engineer and part-time farmer who could fix anything that had movable parts. He was tall, lean, white-haired, and imposing, especially when he fixed his blue eyes on me with a frown. Ruby was his opposite in appearance—short, with soft curves and a gorgeous smile. She had pink cheeks and what she liked to say was “If God didn’t want me to be blonde, He wouldn’t have invented Clairol” hair. Beneath that deceptive exterior, though, was a core of steel. They had stepped up to raise Tess after her mom died and her father, devastated by grief and drink, had disappeared into a life of crime. I liked them both a lot. And I respected them, too.

Pickles, the little black pug, sat down in front of me and held up one paw. She was so cute that I had to crouch down and scratch her ears. When Shelley first got the dog for a Christmas present, Pickles and I had needed a minute to come to terms. All four pounds of her had instantly gone into protective mode when her tiny, flat little nose scented a predator.

Most dogs were aggressive toward or terrified of shifters, which made sense. They could smell that something dangerous had moved into their territory. But I’d sat down on the floor with Pickles and let her get used to me. Within a few minutes, she’d climbed into my lap and fallen asleep, and we’d been buddies ever since. She was a great little dog.

“Hey, the lessons are going well, Shelley.”

“She’s doing a great job with that puppy,” Mike said. “House trained in a snap, too.”

“We thought for a while there that Shelley should have named her Puddles,” Ruby said, but she was smiling.

“Is she asking for a high five?” I asked Shelley.

“Yes! She also knows sit, stay, come, and yoga.”

“Yoga?”

Shelley gave the pup a high five and then pointed at her. “Yoga, Pickles!”

The pug stuck her bottom in the air, little donut tail wagging furiously, and leaned down on her front legs.

“Get it? Get it? It’s thedownward dogpose!” Shelley fell all over the place, laughing, and I had to smile.

I heard Tess’s car pull up outside—superior tiger hearing—and smiled but returned my attention to the girl bouncing up and down. “How do you know all this about the pigs, Shelley?”

“Aunt Ruby told us! Plus, we had an assembly at school today, and they mentioned we’ll get next Friday afternoon off school to help decorate and put up signs for the carnival.”

“Seems like a silly reason to get off school,” Tess’s uncle said, pretending to be gruff.

Shelley was on to him, though. She skipped over and gave him a hug. “You can come help, Uncle Mike! And guess what the names are, Jack!”

“Peter Porker?”

Her mouth widened into an O. “Wow, you’re good at this!”

“They could call him Spider Ham,” Tess offered, walking into the kitchen from the hallway. She looked tired, and her eyes had a pinched quality I didn’t like.

I pulled her into a hug and kissed the top of her head. “Are you okay?”

She nodded and then shook her head. “Yes. Maybe. Rough day. I’ll tell you about it later.”

Ruby gave us a wistful look. “Mike, remember when Tess brought all her problems to us?”

“Nope,” he said with a straight face. “Tess never had any problems.”

Tess cracked up, and I gave Mike a grateful look over the top of her head. He nodded, and I was sure he’d noticed that something was off with Tess, too.

“And guess what else!” Shelley said. “AlexanderHamilton!”

“Um, that’s an actual name,” Tess said.

“I know, but it’s funny for a pig, right?”

We all had to admit it was a little funny.

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