Lost Dogs and Lonely Hearts by Lucy Dillon Page A

food and the best sofa in the house, so I’m crossing my paws that you might have room for a little one. OK, quite a big one. Love, Bertie.
    ‘I’m going to take good care of him,’ she heard herself say. ‘That’s why I’m here, buying up half the shop!’
    ‘Of course you are,’ said the dark-haired woman. She seemed quite brisk, and she had a folder full of notices ready to stick up. ‘Megan just sees a lot of Christmas puppies around this time of year! I’m sure you’re not going to be adding to our numbers. I mean,’ she added, ‘we’re on a bit of a drive to rehome what we’ve already got. So we can make room for some paying customers in our boarding kennels. Aren’t we, Megan?’
    ‘Totally.’ Megan sighed, and gave Zoe a friendly but firm look. ‘The thing is, it’s not the stuff so much as the constant attention, with a puppy. Has he been vaccinated? Have you got a number to ring the breeder, so she can tell you how old he is, and if he’s had the right jabs?’
    ‘Um . . . jabs?’
    Megan looked worried. ‘Toffee’s not on his own right now, is he?’
    ‘Um . . . yes?’ Zoe glanced between them, registering Megan’s disapproval and Rachel’s amazing trendy bag. ‘He’s in the kitchen, it’s totally baby-proof, I mean, I’m a single mum, I’ve had to leave him to get all this stuff, but what are you supposed to do with dogs? Get a babysitter?’
    ‘Yes,’ said Megan.
    ‘You’re joking, right?’ Zoe asked hopefully.
    ‘Would you leave your baby on his own while you went to the shops? Do you know how sharp his teeth are? They can chew through doors, cables . . .’
    The reality of what David had landed on her began to sink in and Zoe felt the old panic rise up her, like an over-filling bath. ‘Oh God,’ she said.
    ‘Look, she’s got a crate,’ Rachel pointed out. ‘And a puppy book. And chewy stuff. Come on, Megan. Be positive. It’s not like she’s left him to play with matches.’
    ‘Do you do training classes?’ Zoe asked in a small voice. ‘For owners?’
    Megan’s stern expression lightened. ‘Yeah. We do, actually. Come up on Saturday and we’ll talk you through the basics. I can give you the name of a vet too, get Toffee registered.’ She scrabbled in her bag for a pen. ‘Give us a leaflet, Rachel? George Fenwick, the clinic down by the fire station. Toffee’s going to need shots and a microchip.’
    ‘And if you want to come and do some volunteer walking, or help us with some fundraising, that would be great!’ said Rachel, segueing effortlessly into sales patter. ‘We’re always looking for helpers. And donations. And if you need to board him for a few days, we have top-quality facilities.’
    Zoe took the leaflet and tucked it into her trolley of supplies. She had a feeling she’d be sticking it on the fridge, right next to the phone.
     
    ‘I think that went well,’ said Megan, nudging her dogs back onto the bridle-path behind the industrial estate. ‘That’s the supermarkets, the precinct, and both pet shops. Just one more stop and we’re done. And those are the highlights of Longhampton, as I’m sure you’ve realised!’
    ‘So long as we’re reaching every single possible new owner,’ said Rachel. Her dogs weren’t quite as well controlled, although Gem was doing his best to herd the smaller dogs into line for her. ‘What did George say? You need to shunt ten non-paying dogs out and get ten dogs in before the end of the month, so he can get his bill paid?’
    George’s advice had been blunt, but free, and delivered over a pot of tea in Dot’s kitchen. It had also revealed to Rachel that she wasn’t the only one with dire cash-flow problems: Dot’s money had run out, and so had the kennels’. Even if Rachel wanted to sell up, it would take a while to sort out the legalities, and in the meantime, the dogs needed feeding and suppliers, George in particular, needed paying.
    He’d looked at her over the table with a sort of challenge