Creature Comfort

Tail end of a long day. Listlessness had set in.

The clock was
.
.
.

going
.
.
.

too
.
.
.

slow.

A client arrived, not with a briefcase but with a tiny bundle of wrinkly tan fur. A black & tan face with intelligent black eyes stared at me audaciously. The wee red halter only accentuated how small she was.

“This is Cassie,” he said “she’s four months old.”

When she scrambled onto the counter for a little love, I knew that were I to eventually share my life with a pug like her, I would be fortunate.

The rest of the day flew by.