Page 1 of Sit, Stay, Love
Chapter One
One Sunday. Couldn’t she have justoneSunday that didn’t involve lying in the dirt searching for kittens?
‘And you’re sure they’re under here?’ Sera called over her shoulder as she wriggled beneath the house. The beam from her torch bounced off a cluster of old paint tins.
‘Definitely,’ the woman said. ‘At least, I think so.’
From where Sera was lying, all she could see was the woman’s feet, and the hot pink nail polish adorning her perfectly pedicured toes.
She sighed.I should get a pedi. Though what would be the point? She was always wearing boots.
Turning back to the jumble of bric-a-brac cluttering the home’s foundations, Sera pushed aside a cobweb and wiggled forward commando-style, all elbows and knees.
Her torch caught a glint of something in the gloom. A jet-black ball of fluff was pressed against the wall, its eyes wide and its back arched.
Sera edged closer, hand slowly extending towards the terrified kitten. It swatted at her then hissed, so bold and fierce that she quietly laughed.
‘It’s okay, little one,’ she whispered. With a swift grab, she had the spitting creature by the scruff of the neck. ‘Come on, tough guy. Let’s get you safe.’
She cradled the kitten in the crook of her arm, stuffed her torch into her bra and wormed backwards across the rough ground, reversing butt-first into the daylight.
‘One,’ she said.
Her dog, Buffy, bounded forward and licked her face.
‘Ew. Buff!’ She shooed away the excited Staffordshire Terrier-cross, pushed herself up with a low groan, and handed the kitten to the woman with the pink pedi. ‘Take this for me for a sec?’
Buffy continued to bounce about eagerly. ‘Is your dog okay?’ the woman asked, holding the kitten aloft like Simba in the opening scene ofThe Lion King.
Sera arranged the pet crate on the shaded part of the woman’s deck. ‘She’s fine. She loves kittens.’
The woman nodded and tentatively showed her tiny charge to the wagging dog, who slurped the kitten with her enormous pink tongue.
Sera took the soggy kitten and popped it into the crate. It scurried to the back, cowering on a red tartan blanket and hissing furiously. Buffy lay beside the crate, her head between her paws and her tail thumping on the wooden deck.
‘Do you think there’s more?’ the woman asked, frowning at the excited dog.
‘Where there’s one, there’s usually more.’
An hour later, filthy, sweaty and with a smear of dead rat goo on her hand, Sera had the last of them. ‘That’s seems to be it. Four. I’ll take them to the vet for a once-over and then they’ll come back to the shelter until they’re ready for adoption.’
‘Thanks so much,’ the woman said. ‘I heard them meowing, but wasn’t sure what to do.’
‘Thanks for caring, and for reaching out to Rose’s Rescue.’
‘Siri. Call Toby.’
‘Petside Vet Clinic.’ Toby’s deep voice boomed through Sera’s speakers.
‘Hey, Herriot,’ she said. The nickname was Grandma Rose’s fault. She’d had a crush on the famous British vet surgeon, James Herriot, and had made Sera watch the old TV series based on his life at least ten times. They’d sit on the couch on a Saturday afternoon, eating cake, watching the show, laughing and crying. Then Sera had read the books, and when they made a new series a few years ago, she’d watched that too. That’s how Herriot stuck. The famous vet held a special place in her heart. Just like Toby did. ‘Guess what? I have a bunch of fluff balls needing your attention.’
‘Of course you do, it’s Sunday. Feline or canine?’
‘Four felines.’
‘How far away are you?’
‘I should be there in about fifteen minutes.’
