Page 13 of Second Time Around
“I wash them every week,” Felicia said, standing up to lead Shaq over to Kyra. “Gotta keep him looking fine.”
Kyra reached down to stroke the huge head Shaq had shoved against her thigh in search of attention. He sighed in bliss when she scratched behind his ears.
Diego took the bowl to Shaq’s feeding station and fitted it into the steel stand. At the sound of metal hitting metal, the dog’s attention swerved to the food.
“Okay, boy, you get a special snack today,” Felicia said, making the gesture that gave him permission to eat.
The dog waddled to the bowl with his distinctive muscle-bound gait. He put his nose in the dish and finished the food in one gulp. Wagging his tail, he swung his gaze between Diego and Felicia with a hopeful expression.
“He liked it,” Diego said, scratching the dog’s head.
“How would he know?” Kyra asked. “He swallowed it without tasting it.”
“Told you he loves to eat,” Felicia said.
“Now we got to mix it with his other food, and give him a bigger portion at every meal until it’s all the new food,” Diego said. “That way his digestive system will adjust to it easy.” He looked at Felicia. “You come to me when it’s feeding time. I’ll help you with the mixing.”
Kyra eyed Diego with new respect. The boy knew a heck of a lot about caring for dogs. Not only that, but when he spoke about it, he sounded like a trained professional.
“The container is in the green refrigerator with a label that says ‘Shaq Only,’” Kyra said. “I put the calorie count per cup on it, too, so you can calculate how much he needs to eat every day.”
“How’d you know we’d need that?” Diego asked.
“By reading dog food labels. The serving size is determined by the age and weight of the dog.”
“Course we don’t know exactly how old Shaq is,” Felicia said, scratching down Shaq’s spine to the dog’s obvious delight. “He’s a rescue like all of them.”
Kyra found herself petting the pit bull’s big head again. “What do you guess?”
“Doc Quillen thinks about four,” Diego said.
Shaq let out a sigh of pleasure when Kyra bent slightly to scratch his chest. A startled look crossed Felicia’s face. “Shaq don’t usually take to people the first time he meets them,” she said. “But he be down with you. I mean, he likes you.”
“He just smells the food on my fingers.” Kyra had not grown up with pets. Her mother had doted on a teacup Yorkie named Starlight, but the little creature had been a one-woman dog. When a young Kyra had tried to pet Starry, the little dog growled at her, so she left the Yorkie alone after that.
Shaq let out another happy sigh and leaned against Kyra’s leg, making her stagger. “What a sweetheart!” Kyra surprised herself by saying, “Not your typical pit bull.”
A frown drew Diego’s dark brows downward. “Pitties aren’t aggressive by nature. They get trained that way. They want to be loved just like any other dog.”
“We all just want to be loved.” Kyra ruffled his hair as usual. “It’s how we go about it that can be the problem.”
Diego smoothed his black hair back, but he was smiling.
“Shaq’s righteous,” Felicia said with great emphasis. “He don’t bother nobody ... anybody who don’t want to be bothered.” She surprised Kyra by throwing her arms around Kyra’s waist in a hug. “Thank you for the food. I can’t wait for Shaq to come home with me. It’ll be almost like Mario living with Diego.”
Kyra gave Felicia a squeeze on the shoulder. “Happy to help, sweetie. But we still don’t know if the food will help his digestion.”
“It will,” Felicia said with a confidence that made Kyra’s heart twist.
“You can take him outside now,” Diego said. “Min-joo’s waiting in the doggy playground.”
“Is Min-joo Shaq’s junior kid?” Kyra asked. Each dog had two children, an older and a younger one, assigned to it. The idea was to give the dogs continuity as the older kids aged out of the center.
Diego nodded. “And she’s even smaller than Felicia.”
“That must be a sight,” Kyra said. She watched the kids go out the back door before she headed up the stairs. She’d been thinking about Will the whole time she’d worked on the dog food, so maybe she should tell him about its success. Pulling out her phone, she typed in:Chicken, pumpkin, brown rice combo passed taste test. But will it pass digestion test?
She hesitated as her thumb hovered over the send button. It was Monday afternoon. Will had more important things to do than text about dog food. She shrugged and hit the button. He didn’t have to answer it.
