Lady And The Scamp. Dianne Drake

in the dog world. Limiting her practice to champion canines only, Dee wouldn’t have allowed a cur like Nick Hardin’s to place a grimy paw on the pavement in the parking lot, much less receive treatment at the chic canine facility appropriately known as Pedigree, Ltd.

      Cassie hopped out of the car, dragged Duchess’s crate from the passenger’s seat, then hurried to the glass front door of the building that had Your Champion Is The Heart Of Our Business stenciled in gold letters across the front.

      “Dee…we’re here,” Cassie yelled the second she stepped inside.

      “Well, hello Daisy Mae,” Dee Bishop teased as she appraised Cassie’s appearance.

      Cassie frowned at her friend’s attempted wit. She still hadn’t taken time to change from her shorts and T-shirt, but she had grabbed her sandals this time. “Don’t start with me, Dee,” Cassie warned. “I’ve already had a morning straight from hell and it’s only ten o’clock.”

      “Well, your reason for dragging my butt in here on a Saturday better be a good one,” the tall blonde said as she pulled on a lab coat. “I don’t ruin my weekends for just anyone.”

      “Spare me the poor pitiful-me act,” Cassie grumbled. “As much as my mother pays you to take care of this fancy dog of hers, I think you can afford the sacrifice.”

      “Touché,” Dee conceded. “Follow me.”

      Crate in hand, Cassie followed her friend down the hallway to the first doggy examining room. “I know I was vague on the phone, Dee, but I wanted to get here as fast as I could.”

      Dee waited until Cassie placed the crate on the table before she unfastened the latch and gently lifted the tiny dog out. “Hey there, Miss Duchess,” Dee cooed. “What’s wrong, sweetie? Are you under the weather today?”

      “No. She was under the sex-crazed terrier who lives down the street.”

      Clutching Duchess to her breast as if Cassie had arranged for the lewd rendezvous herself, Dee glared in Cassie’s direction. “That isn’t even funny, Cassie. The champion sire your mother arranged for will be here on Monday. If you’ve allowed another dog to get to Duchess first, your mother will kill you.”

      Cassie’s deadpan look spoke volumes. “Of course Lenora’s going to kill me, you nitwit. Why do you think I was practically in tears when I called you?”

      Ignoring the shocked look on Dee’s perfectly made-up face, Cassie began pacing around the room, talking more to herself than to her judgmental friend. “Believe me, Dee, if you think I’m taking this lightly, you’re badly mistaken. I’m the one who insisted that I should stay behind to keep Duchess and make sure everything went as planned with those breeders from London. ‘I can handle it, Mother,’ I kept saying until I was blue in the face. And do you know what’s so funny?” Cassie added with a hysterical giggle. “For once, Lenora actually trusted me to have enough sense to take care of things. Leave it to me to screw it up and only reinforce my mother’s opinion that I’m not capable of doing anything right.”

      “Lenora doesn’t think anyone’s capable of doing anything right but herself,” Dee mumbled.

      Cassie’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t you think I realize that?”

      “You already know what I think,” Dee insisted. “I think it’s way past time for you to cut the apron strings and stop trying to live up to Lenora’s expectations, Cassie. You’re twenty-eight years old. Get a life and put that dutiful-daughter act to rest.”

      Cassie frowned. “Spare me your dutiful-daughter speech, Dee. You’ve been delivering it since we were in grade school.”

      “And I’ll keep delivering it until you get a little backbone and at least move out on your own,” Dee insisted.

      Circling the room again, Cassie sighed, thinking about her overbearing, hypochondria-impaired mother whom she loved in spite of everything. “You know as well as I do the minute I left home, Lenora would take to her sickbed like she did the last time I mentioned moving out. She expects me to live at home until I get married, Dee. It’s Mother’s twisted form of punishment for me being twenty-eight and still single.”

      “Well, if I were you, I’d risk it,” Dee argued. “Call Lenora’s bluff about that phony heart murmur of hers.”

      The image of her mother, left hand to her forehead, right hand draped dramatically over her heart instantly crossed Cassie’s mind. “Oh, Lenora definitely has a heart murmur, Dee. It murmurs suck-er every time I play along when she fakes another siege with her imaginary angina.”

      Dee laughed, but shook her head in disgust. “I’ve never been able to understand the hold Lenora has over you, Cassie. You’re one of the most talented, confident and self-reliant women I know—except when it comes to your mother.”

      When Cassie didn’t bother to respond, Dee realized the subject was closed. Taking a pair of rubber gloves from beneath the examining table, she snapped them into place and transformed from best friend into Dr. Bishop, canine care-giver. She began feeling along Duchess’s hindquarters.

      Looking up at Cassie, Dee said, “And you’re positive Duchess and this stray male made contact?”

      “Oh, they definitely made contact,” Cassie confirmed. “If I’d found them sharing a cigarette when I finally got over the shock, it wouldn’t have surprised me a bit.”

      “Surely you weren’t letting her run loose knowing her condition?”

      Cassie felt like slapping the dear doctor across the face. “Of course I wasn’t letting her run loose, Dee. I had the little witch in the backyard. Her boyfriend was just aroused enough to dig a hole under the fence.”

      “You’d be surprised how inventive dogs can be when they’re ready to mate.”

      “Oh, I’ve been surprised enough for a lifetime,” Cassie wailed. “Just tell me what we can do about it now.”

      “There isn’t much we can do, after the fact.”

      “But don’t you have one of those pee-on-a-stick doggy tests or something? Surely you have some space-age method that can tell me if I should start knitting little mongrel puppy booties by the dozen.”

      Dr. Bishop finished her exam and tossed the gloves in the waste can. “I can do an ultrasound later, but it will take at least nineteen days before I’m able to detect any fetuses.”

      “Nineteen days!” Cassie exploded. “And what am I supposed to do in the meantime? The grand stud from London is supposed to arrive on Monday.”

      “And that may be your salvation, Cass. If Duchess is receptive to the champion male bichon, and the mutt didn’t impregnate her first, you may get your champion puppies, after all. It isn’t uncommon for a bitch to mate with more than one dog, you know. In fact, I’ve seen litters that have two entirely different sires.”

      Cassie groaned. “Must you dog people always use the B word so causally?” Cassie scolded. “Even though I’d like to strangle the little floozy myself right now, I feel like a traitor allowing you to refer to Duchess as a bitch.”

      “Well, you’d better get used to the sound of the B word, Miss Priss,” Dee teased. “I’m sure bitch will certainly cross Lenora’s mind if Duchess ends up with a litter of unregistered puppies.”

      “That’s what I love about you, Dee,” Cassie scolded. “You’re always so supportive.”

      Cassie made several more laps around the small room before she said, “I hate to even mention this, Dee. And don’t start throwing things, but I’ve heard there’s some type of shot…”

      Dee sent Cassie a look that stopped her midsentence. “Yes, there is a ‘mismating’ shot available if that’s what you’re referring to, but I’d never use it personally. It can be detrimental to the bitch’s health.”

      Cassie