After a second of contemplation, Patrick nodded. “There’s a woman coming on at two who makes a point of helping to bathe the cats whenever she can.”

Gabe pursed his lips. “Interesting woman, I bet, but good timing. Considering the color of his gums, I’d like to see these fleas off him sooner than later. And no soap, as I’m sure you know. Just warm water and a flea comb.”

After a nod, Patrick said, “Your girlfriend can help. If she wants to.”

“I bet she’d like that, but I’ll let her answer that.”

“I wasn’t asking you to.”

Gabe glanced up from Costello, who was just as unhappy at having his belly gently stroked to determine abdominal and intestinal health as he’d been at having his temperature taken. Gabe wasn’t sure if he was expecting to spot a touch of indignation on Patrick’s face, but it was completely free from it. It seemed, as usual, Patrick was just stating what seemed obvious to him.

He’d never intended on dating someone in his workplace environment, but Gabe didn’t mind that everyone here was figuring out he and Olivia were a couple. He was a young, single vet, so it shouldn’t have surprised him when a handful of animal-loving women about his age had seemed to have more than an amiable interest in him, both here and at his office. He was hopeful that as word got out he was in a committed relationship, that sort of thing would quiet down.

Gabe and Olivia had just entered their second official week of dating last night, a Friday night, and they’d celebrated with a trip out to the Missouri wine country where they’d had a relaxing dinner on the patio of the Hawthorne Inn. He couldn’t remember being so eager to be around someone he was dating before, with the possible exception of his first girlfriend at seventeen. He’d seen Olivia eight of the last nine days, though two of them had been for mere minutes. One of them had been when he’d dropped her off a surprise lunch at Westbury Middle, and the other time she’d swung by his office before going home with a loaf of vegan zucchini bread she and her aunt had made the night before.

The rest of the times had been actual dates, two of which were supposed to have been quick dinner dates but had turned into three-hour meals. The rest had drawn on longer, culminating at his place and resulting in a lot more treats for Samson. In addition to the Kong, Gabe’s freezer was now stocked with a couple packages of doggie “ice cream” cups—a blend of Greek yogurt, bananas, and peanut butter—that bought them almost the same amount of time as the Kong.