Changeling Moon by Dani Harper Page A

take the puppies as I hand them off.” He looked at Zoey then, measuring her. “You sure you’re up to this? Because once we get started, it’s going to go fast. There’s no time to get sick or faint.”
    â€œHey, city reporter here. I’ve covered the crime beat,” she protested. “You just tell me what to do.”
    He grinned and patted her shoulder. “Okay, tough gal, here we go.”
    It did go fast. One moment Connor was showing her how to check the dog’s pulse, and the next, he was making the first incision. Somewhere between those tasks, he’d managed to start an IV, feed a tube down Millie’s windpipe, start the anesthetic and reposition the now-sleeping dog on the table, all the while giving Zoey instructions on what to do with the puppies when they arrived. She held a towel in her hands, nervous but ready, checking the dog’s pulse frequently. Millie’s heart was strong and steady. Like Connor, she thought. She watched him work, admiring the efficiency and artistry that went into the surgery.
    Suddenly he handed her something that looked like a slimy gray jelly bean—if jelly beans were the size of Idaho potatoes. It squirmed a little in her towel and she realized with a start that it was a puppy, totally encased in an amniotic sac. Omigod. She peeled the sac away to reveal the wet blond puppy underneath and rubbed it vigorously with the towel. It began squeaking and she watched, fascinated, as it blindly waved its little blunt nose around. It sounded almost indignant. A rush of warmth shot through her and she had to blink hard to clear her eyes of unexpected moisture. She looked up to find Connor grinning at her.
    â€œCongratulations. You’ve just witnessed the start of a brand-new life.”
    â€œIs it like this for you too?”
    â€œEvery single time. It never gets old. It does get rushed though. Put that one under the heat lamp. His brothers and sisters are ready to come out and play.”
    He wasn’t kidding. Zoey would no sooner get a puppy rubbed down than Connor was handing her another. And another. At one point she was rubbing two at a time. “Holy cow, how many are there?”
    â€œAt least a dozen. Retrievers usually have big litters, but Millie’s outdone herself. Check her pulse for me, will you?”
    Zoey hurried to do so, but the mother dog was fine. The next puppy wasn’t, however. It looked different from its siblings, smaller and unmoving. “Connor, I can’t get this one to breathe.”
    â€œUse the bulb syringe, suction the fluid out of its mouth.”
    She did her best but felt clumsy with the unfamiliar tool. The pup lay limp.
    â€œShake it very gently, upside down. The lungs may need to drain a little.”
    That was harder. She was fearful of hurting it, but as the pup continued to be unresponsive, she jiggled it harder. Nothing. “Connor!”
    â€œDon’t panic yet. The bottle on the table is a respiratory stimulant. Put a drop on its tongue and then keep rubbing it with the towel. Keep its head down.”
    She had tears in her eyes as she opened the tiny mouth. Everything was so delicate, so perfect. She applied the drop and resumed rubbing. “C’mon, c’mon, breathe! You can do it, little guy, c’mon.”
    â€œI’ve got another puppy that can’t wait. You’re going to have to juggle them.”
    Flustered, she tucked the limp pup under her sweatshirt to keep it warm, took the new pup, and was relieved when it squeaked almost immediately. She was just placing it in the box under the heat lamp with its siblings when a faint movement next to her skin caught her attention. She reached in and found the troubled pup squirming feebly. “Oh, look at you! What a wonderful fellow you are!” She crooned to the puppy as she rubbed it with the towel. Tears ran down her face when it finally made a faint squeak.
    â€œWay to go, Dr.