anything else, we’re calling the rescue.”
He nodded.
“Okay.”
By 4:30 that morning, both kittens had been examined by the rescue’s emergency veterinarian.
They were cold and hungry but otherwise stable.
The woman at the desk recognized Greg as soon as we walked in.
She looked at the kittens and smiled.
“Another one with a retirement-home name?”
I slowly turned toward my husband.
Greg sighed.
“There was also a Charlie.”
Apparently, six months of volunteering contained more stories than he’d admitted.
On the drive home, Greg finally sent Michael
