Page 72 of Packing for Vacation

“Yeah.” I nod decisively. “Yep. Might as well.”

Five minutes later, Matiu and I are sitting side-by-side at the breakfast bar. “You’re brave doing this on the company laptop,” he comments as I bring up my browser, various social media tabs ready and waiting to click through.

“I’m not doing anything illegal. They could be clients. From a completely different jurisdiction who have never set foot in this country. That I’m researching on socials.”

“Of course.”

“Here’s the fucker with the AI bot addiction.” I lean back, letting Matiu slide my laptop along for him to use.

“He’s a pretty boy.”

“Yeah I know. They’re all good looking, unfortunately.”

“Jealous?”

“No.”

Matiu scoffs.

“Fuck off.”

“You fuck off.”

“You fuck off.”

“Nah! I can’t fuck off, this is my house. Wait, look at this.”

It’s a photo of an orange Pomeranian under Édouard’s profile, posted into an Ottawa community group. The post is written in both French and English, thankfully.

Does anyone have capacity to take on this dog? This is Coco. She’s a five-year-old Pomeranian. She’s been in my mother’s care ever since my ex abandoned her. My mother had a stroke on Christmas Day and is currently hospitalised. It has become clear that she will be unable to care for any pets from this point on. My omega is not a dog person so I am unable to take care of Coco myself. She’s free to a good home, we will provide the basics including what is left at my mother’s apartment. If I can’t find a suitable home for her I’ll be taking her to the pound. She’s currently staying at the vet’s boarding facility in Orléans, Ottawa.

White-hot fury overtakes me as soon as I read the words ex abandoned her, and the rest of the passage only makes it worse. “What the fuck?! That’s Lizzie’s dog! She didn’t abandon her! What the fuck is he on about? Fuckin’ abusive cunt.”

Matiu refreshes the page. “He only posted it twenty minutes ago. No bites yet. Message him. We’ll take the dog.”

I sit frozen, processing.

“Scotty, message him. They’re expensive dogs, someone will swoop in and take her if you don’t hurry up.”

“But…”

“I’ll do it myself.” He starts typing from my profile.

“We’re in New Zealand.”

“He doesn’t need to know that.” I would love to take Coco, he types. My pack and I have just moved from New Zealand and we’ve been planning to get a dog.

He hits send just as I say “Wait.”

“Too late.”

“What are you going to do? Get on a plane to Canada, and then what?”

“The dog is already at a kennel, right? I’m sure we can continue to pay for the service until we can work out the next step.”

“Has it occurred to you that the next step is likely Lizzie travelling back to Canada to be with her dog and never returning?” Even just saying it makes me feel sick.

Matiu chews on his bottom lip. “Fuck.”