Page 151 of Wild Card
Axel
“Well,we’ve got a thirty-pound bag of Friskies, a case of Fancy Feast wet food, and enough litter to last you three months.”
Simon Prentiss watched his boyfriend, Parker Reid, kneel in front of a chair and try to coax out the young calico they’d agreed to foster.
“What was the policy on adopting again?” he asked dryly. “We wanted to foster first to make sure we’d make good pet owners, but I have a feeling Parker is going to get attached.”
Parker twisted, a big smile on his face. “Who says I’m not already?”
I laughed. “Well, adoption is the ultimate goal. You guys take a couple of weeks to settle in. If you want to adopt, you just call me.”
I handed Simon a folder. “I’ve got Shasta’s vet workup in here. She’s had all her shots and a recent exam. But if you notice any health concerns, let us know. The business card for Furry Fosters is in there too. A few foster applications as well, in caseyou know anyone else who’d be willing to step up. We’re always on the prowl.”
“Will do,” Simon said, shaking my hand.
I already knew these two would make good pet parents. Simon was an athletic director at the college, and his boyfriend was a grade school teacher. They were recent transplants to Riverton, but as former Hayworth College football stars, they were popular ones.
Parker turned, arms full of the chubby calico. Shasta didn’t have to spend a single day on the street, thanks to the safe surrender and foster program. Unlike the cats that still lived in my feral colony at the junkyard, she was a pampered princess, and I had no doubt Parker would keep her in the lifestyle to which she was accustomed.
She’d lived with an older woman in town who’d died—not so different from Banshee—but thankfully, her family wanted what was best for her. They owned three dogs who didn’t play well with cats, so they’d come to me in the hopes she could go straight into a foster home and avoid a shelter stay.
“She’s adorable,” Parker said. “Simon is more of a dog person, but with our working hours…”
I nodded. “Dogs take a lot more time and attention. But if that ever changes, we’re always placing them, and with a foster situation, we can always give the pets a chance to acclimate. If it doesn’t work out, we can find a different forever home.”
Simon reached out and stroked Shasta’s head. She purred contentedly with the devoted attention of her two men. I could hardly blame her. Simon and Parker were a good-looking couple.
“I’ve never had a cat, but that doesn’t mean I don’t like them,” Simon said.
“She’ll have you wrapped around her paw in no time,” I said, as if she didn’t already.
I stood. “Well, that’s everything, except…” I dipped into the box I’d brought and pulled out a fishing rod with a set of colorful feathers on the end. I gave it a flick, and Shasta’s eyes instantly followed the movement. “A cat’s supplies wouldn’t be complete without a good toy.”
I handed it over to Parker, who started swishing it and grinning when Shasta gave chase.
Simon chuckled. “Let me walk you out. Parker can keep playing.”
I nodded, my chest warm. When I’d launched Furry Fosters, I’d thought it would be hard to relinquish the pets after years of taking them in. To my surprise, this was now my favorite part of the process.
Placing an animal in a good home—particularly with foster parents who might very well adopt—was the best damn feeling. I’d always love my junkyard dogs and cats. I wouldn’t be the same without them.
Before I rebuilt trust with my brothers, before I met Dalton, I’d needed a safe outlet for my love and affection. Now, though, I could give new pets coming in something even better.
A family of their own.
I left Simon and Parker to get better acquainted with Shasta and headed out to my El Camino. I called Dalton as I made the drive home.
“Hey, darlin’,” Dalton answered. “You better have that phone on hands-free.”
“Of course, Sheriff. Bluetooth all the way.”
He chuckled. “Good. What’s up? You done with the foster visit?”
“Just wrapped it up. What about you? Meet at the house for a quickie before hitting the barbecue?”
Dalton groaned. “Wish I could. State troopers picked up Rusty with a shitload of meth. We had to serve a search warrant on his house. It was a whole thing.”
“No kidding? I guess karma’s a bitch,” I said, thinking of the way the asshole had treated Banshee like a payday.
