Page 3 of Their Little House Boston (Five Little Roommates #3)
Tripp
I hadn’t slept past seven since Juno came into my life.
She had big brown eyes, floppy ears, and the coldest nose I’d ever had thrust into my armpit first thing in the morning.
When I adopted her at the local shelter event, they’d told me a lot about her.
She had been about four months old, loved long walks, and would break into zoomies every time I let her out in the yard.
Poor pup had been surrendered along with her siblings, and she was the last one of the litter still there.
What they didn’t tell me was that I’d brought a morning person—morning dog—into my life. And that was not the life I’d been accustomed to leading. I got up early only for work, sleeping until noon on the weekends more often than not.
Still, I’d challenge anyone to say no to the cutest pup in the world.
Even after three years, I couldn’t think of her as anything but a puppy.
She still had the goofy, sweet attitude.
Together, we’d hiked all the local trails and some farther away, seen waterfalls I had no idea existed, even taken a weekend trip to the beach because I thought Juno might like sand and surf.
Spoiler alert: at first, she didn’t want any part of beach life, but, once I got out the Frisbee, she forgave me for getting her toes all sandy.
With a business like mine, it was hard to make plans far in advance, which meant I missed out on most group activities, and Juno was the perfect companion, ready to go whenever I was and never upset because I got stuck at the office and tickets to a traveling Broadway show went to waste.
It was also why I was single. I peopled all day at work, and sometimes that didn’t leave enough of me for another person.
“Hello, girl. You know the sun is barely up?”
She bounced on the bed next to me, her brown, black, and white fur glossy in the early morning light.
“Do you need to go out?” Odds were that yes, she would like to go out and do what dogs do in the morning, but the main reason for the excitement was less biological function and more an interest in having fun.
I often thought that she had the right idea, but I couldn’t come up with a way I could make hiking and Frisbee throwing into a way to pay the mortgage.
At least, with my own insurance agency, Juno could come to work with me most of the time, curling up under the desk by my feet and patiently waiting for her lunchtime walk and snack. Life could be a whole lot worse.
Before Juno, I generally ate at my desk or not at all, but, with her, I had a reason to leave the building and stroll down the street to the park on the next block.
The deli on the block took phone orders and didn’t mind if my furry cutie came in to grab my food, health department rules be damned.
That half hour, sitting on a bench and eating a sandwich while Juno frolicked in the dog park with her besties: priceless.
After lunch, back to the office for meetings and paperwork before either waiting around for an evening appointment or going home to work out in my home gym, have something easy for dinner, and calling it a night.
Or, on rare occasions, Juno had a night on her own while I visited my club, Chained. As a daddy with no little, the little room there was an ideal location to find like-minded caregivers for a short chat or a little who wanted a daddy for a play session, no strings attached.