Setting down the genetics report with a sigh, Shelly pulled her knees up to her chin and wrapped her arms around them. Staring off into space, she considered everything she’d just read before turning to eye the Doc and making a face.

“How the hell does an Otterhound get across the pond when they’re supposed to be so rare? Or, well, a mostly Otterhound. That’s just weird, Doc.”

“My girl,” the Doc began in a cheery voice, “what is weird is how you manage to perch like that on these chairs. It’s simply not natural. And as for her breed, puppies are stolen quite often. One or both parents could have come over with an owner for show season and had relations with another dog. There are any number of ways that we’d end up with a mostly Otterhound here.”

Laughing a little at the truth within his statements, Shelly stretched out and nodded. Okay, fine. So it was possible and even probable. More likely if one assumed that a male ancestor had escaped and had relations with a dog of less noble breeding. Fiiiiine. It was ridiculous, but entirely possible.

Fine. Okay. She had a fancy dog now. Or mostly fancy. Shelly had to smile to herself at the thought.

“At least no one is likely to try and steal her from me based on perceived value,” she mused out loud. The dog’s coat was still growing out from the shave they’d had to give her. And the fact that she was now spayed made her even less desirable to the backyard breeders. Well, good. The point was that she didn’t look rare or valuable. She just looked like a scruffy tripod. People would leave her alone and she’d be safe.

“Indeed. Now, I know you’re anxious to get the young lady home and I’m happy to say that should be possible this week. Her weight’s coming back and her incisions are healing nicely. I know you’ve been working with her as far as mobility goes. Is she trying to move?”

“She’s stubborn, but willing, I think,” Shelly replied, gnawing on a ragged thumbnail. “She’s still unsure of her own balance, but every time I take her into the yard, she tries. Mom brought Brack to visit yesterday and she was fine with him. I think he knew she’s fragile right now since he didn’t try to knock her over playing. But she seemed braver with a buddy there.”

“Good, good. And has she met Brick?”

“Last week and he spent the entire time trying to clean her face and use her for a bed.”

“Well,” Doc laughed, “he was always the more sensitive of the pair. I will recommend keeping her with them for the time being. Otterhounds have a strong hunting instinct and you’ll have to introduce the kitten pack slowly. Any of your smaller pets should be introduced carefully and with yourself and one or both parents with you to run interference with the young lady. As remarkably unbothered as she seems to be with other animals, best to be cautious.”

Nodding in agreement, Shelly sat and began to consider ways to minimize any potential accidents. She didn’t think the dog would harm a littler creature, but she didn’t know. She didn’t want to lose any of her babies to carelessness.

“Now, as there will be paperwork, we might as well get as much of it done as possible before the young lady goes home. I am, of course,” he said drolly, “going to assume that she is already a foster fail and you won’t be giving her up come hell or high water?”

Startled into a laugh, Shelly nodded. “Sir, she was a foster fail the second you told me I could have her. She’s already been through so much, how could I risk re-traumatizing her? Besides, I made a promise. I’m never letting anyone hurt her again.”

A spark of understanding flashed in the Doc’s eyes as he nodded and scribbled on the paperwork. “A promise to a dog is a serious thing, indeed, my girl. Well good. I’ve watched you with her and I’m fairly convinced that separating the two of you would hurt you both terribly. And I do try to not hurt my best volunteers. Hrmm… have you thought of a name for the young lady? I can, of course, pull up a random word generator, but then you end up with names like Bisquick or Daffydoodle. Hardly dignified.”

Though she wouldn’t admit it out loud, Shelly had been agonizing over names ever since she’d gotten her report in the mail. She wanted a watery name, but frankly, kind of hated all the river goddess names she’d found. Clearly, only gods got kickass names. But there weren’t any rules saying she couldn’t play with words.

“Poseida. I can turn it into any number of nicknames and we both know that I’ll just end up calling her Puddingpop or Bisquick anyway.”

“Fair enough. Poseida it is. I think I can finish the rest of this on my own. Why don’t you go spend some time with her. We can coordinate when precisely she can come home after I’ve had a chance to talk to you and your parents.”

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