Julia supposed Rob’s criteria were about the same as those a child-care worker would apply to couples interested in adopting a baby . . . although she’d actually had to wonder a couple of times if his rules weren’t even more stringently set and enforced.

“You have to start the screening process the minute people leave their car,” he’d told her on her first day at work. “Look for a good fit, and don’t let your eagerness to place the dogs affect your judgment. Watch how folks act, listen to what they say, get a feel for the vibes they send out to the dogs, and the vibes the dogs send out to them. Much as I want permanent homes for our greys, they’re better off as tenants with us than in a bad home where they aren’t getting proper care.”

Watching from behind the shop’s sales counter, elbows propped on it beside the cash register, Julia had seen encouraging signs that the Wurman-Vivian vibe exchange was tuned to a harmonious cosmic bonding frequency. Vivian’s leash was now in the hands of Papa Wurman, who was smiling over at Mama Wurman, who was beaming right back at him as an excited Junior Wurman crouched beside the dog and gently stroked her sides. Viv, meanwhile, was relishing the attention. A good fit? They appeared to be striking up the very music of the spheres.

Julia realized she’d been humming a melody to herself, recognized it as the chorus to the old Broadway song “Matchmaker,” and was starting to wonder how that archaic musical strain had managed to surface from the junk bin of her post-Boomer memory storehouse when her cell phone suddenly began to tweedle.

She pulled it from the belt case clipped to her jeans, glanced at the Caller ID number on its display, and smiled as she fingered the TALK button.

“Yente’s Canine Dating Service, open sunrise to sunset,” she said. “To Life!”

A hesitant, “Excuse me?” at the other end.

Julia chuckled. Roger Gordian. A biz whiz without parallel, but more than a little humor impaired.

“Hi, Dad,” she said. “Don’t hang up, you’ve got the right number.”

“Oh,” Gordian replied. “For a second there I thought you said . . .”

“Just amusing myself. My boss is out back feeding the dogs, and I’m waiting to give my maiden cat test. He wants me to get the experience. We really should have given it to Viv . . . she’s one of our sweetest greys . . . before a family showed up and fell in love with her, but somebody got their signals crossed. Either they never told Rob they had a cat during their phone interview, or he forgot to make note of it, it’s been so crazy around here we can’t be sure. Either way I’ve got to deal with it.”

“Oh,” Gordian said again. A pause. “If you don’t mind my asking, what’s—?”