Page 35 of Here Comes Santa Paws

I loved the Christmas Falls Parade of Lights. Each year, one of our volunteers sacrificed his truck so we could decorate it like a giant reindeer. Some of our most well-behaved shelter animals wore reindeer antlers and sat in the bed of the truck as a bevy of volunteers—also wearing antlers because who doesn’t love a good theme?—either raced around passing out candy and flyers or marched at the front of our float holding the animal shelter banner.

I was one of the candy runners. My skin was sticky with sweat under my thermal shirt and Rudolph sweater with a blinking nose.

“Here’s a flyer about our adoption events during the festival.” I handed the paper to a pair of adults standing behind several bundled kids, who eagerly unwrapped the candies I’d given them.

I waved and moved on to passing out goodies to more parade spectators.

“You look like Rudolph!” one kid exclaimed after I gave her candy.

“Santa’s Helpers Animal Shelter is full of Santa’s furry friends. Want some candy?”

She nodded eagerly and held out her hands.

The sidewalks along Christmas Boulevard were packed with spectators. I got so much energy from this event. My initial adrenaline usually wore off a week into the festival, so the parade helped refill the well. Festival season was a marathon, not a sprint. Especially this year with all the extra stress from the leak, impending construction if I ever found a contractor with room in their schedule, extra adoption events, worrying about Gramps, and worrying about Carol. At least I had Roman’s support on two of those.

Instinctively, I scanned the crowd like I might see him. A pointless endeavor because Roman wouldn’t be caught dead at the parade.

Once our float reached the end of the route, I thanked all the volunteers and squeezed the hug-friendly ones before giving high fives and waves to the others. As I walked over to touch base with Nancy, my phone buzzed in my pocket. Normally, I wouldn’t check it until we had the animals safely back at the shelter, but I looked just in case it was Gramps.

Roman: There’s something wrong with Carol. She threw up and is whining. Her stomach looks more bloated. Should I call the vet?

I pulled Nancy aside, told her what was happening, and asked if she could oversee getting the animals back to the shelter. She had a key to the building and would make sure they were all back in their kennels with topped-up food and water for the night.

“Go. And let me know how she is, okay?” The concern in her eyes matched the knot growing in my gut.

“I will. Thank you.”

She pulled me into a quick hug. “She’ll be fine.”

I squeezed her back, then hurried toward my car parked several blocks away. As soon as I was far enough from the parade noise, I called Roman.

“Hello?” His tension was evident.

“What’s her symptoms? I just wrapped up the parade. Heading your way.”

I had to let the car heater clear the fog from the windows.

“I think her stomach is bigger. This might be weird, but I think her nipples are too? She threw up and is whimpering off and on. What do you think is wrong with her?”

My shoulders relaxed slightly. I had a pretty good feeling about what was happening.

“Has she been eating and drinking lately?”

“Unless she’s developed opposable thumbs to dump her water bowl in the sink and put her food back into the container, yes.”

I chuckled at his reply and considered snarking back playfully, but I didn’t want to push him. He seemed stressed enough.

“Eating and drinking are a very good sign.” The windows were clear enough for me to drive. I decided to keep him on the line in case it helped him. “Sometimes avoiding that can be a sign of something more serious.”

Roman let out a breath. “That makes sense.”

I heard shuffling through my car’s stereo. “Is she letting you touch her?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m almost there.”

“The front door is unlocked. We’re in the bedroom.”

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