Page 175 of Mountain Daddy

Dad turns all the way to face me, narrowing his gaze. “Am I going to regret this?”

Fighting the constant urge to cry, I drop onto the open end of the couch. “Foxes in zoos can live up to fifteen years.”

Over the past few days, I’ve spent way too much time researching foxes. And rain sticks.

It hasn’t been healthy.

“Okay…” Dad has a worried look on his face.

My next inhale is shaky. “Foxes in the wild only live for three to five years.”

I watch Dad swallow and glance toward the back door. “How old is Buddy?”

“I don’t know.” I press my lips together. Hard.

He looks back toward the door.

I’ve caught him feeding Buddy more than once. And even though all my research tells me to stop doing it, I know I won’t.

“Is that what you want the truck for? You gonna build a zoo?” Dad tries to joke, but I can hear the tremor in his voice.

I don’t know why he’s never had pets. He clearly has the heart for it.

Then I think about the three-to-five-year answer I found online and how that deadline has hung over my head since I learned about it.

Is this what pet owners feel like? This desperate mix of love and terror?

Is this what it feels like to be a parent?

“I thought…” I take a breath, needing to keep my shit together. If I lose it now, I’ll cry all night. “I thought I could buy him a doghouse. I know it’s not a whole habitat like at a zoo. But…” I take another breath as I think about the other fact I learned. “Foxes are self-domesticating.”

Dad clears his throat. “What does that mean?”

“They want to come inside.”

Dad drops his head back and lets out a deep breath. “Well, that feels heartbreaking.”

“I know.” I half laugh. “And I know we can’t just let Buddy into the house. But I thought if we could get him a house…”

Sitting up, Dad picks up the remote and turns off the TV. “I’ll come with you.”

With the largeplastic doghouse secured in the truck bed with a pair of straps, Dad slams the tailgate closed.

They had a few styles, but this one is shaped like an adorable little cottage, and sections of the roof pop up as vents, so it won’t get too hot inside.

It was the most expensive one the store had, but since Dad was happy to drive the hour it took to get here, I wasn’t surprised when he insisted on paying.

I also won’t be surprised when Dad decides to build Buddy a custom house. It’s only a matter of time.

I climb into the passenger seat while Dad puts the cart in the corral. And I’m buckling my seat belt when he gets in the truck.

“Hungry?” Dad asks, starting the engine.

“Starving.”

Chapter 104

Luther