Like Cats and Dogs by Kate McMurray (scary books to read TXT) 📗

Her tone was a little facetious, the honey a joke, so he ignored it. “It was fine. A little stressful. This morning, I treated a lizard with a cold. Then I had some dog owners in this afternoon who were a lot.”

Lauren smiled. “You know, I don’t really like the term owner for people who have pets. It implies the animals are objects instead of friends and companions.”

Oh, boy. Caleb didn’t want to argue, but that was pretty silly. “Are you one of these pet parent types who goes on about your fur babies? Because the couple who brought their dog in today kept saying that. I mean, no offense, I guess, but that always sounds weird to my ears.”

Lauren frowned, which indicated she’d probably called a cat a fur baby a time or two in her life. “I mean, I’m not so naive as to think taking care of a dog or a cat is the same as taking care of a human baby. Actually, I think cats are more like teenagers. You have to put out food and clean up after them, you try to keep them out of trouble, but otherwise, they basically get along on their own.”

“Sure.”

“But anyway, maybe parent is not the right word, either. I don’t know. Pet caretaker?”

“Makes the pet sound like an old house.”

Lauren sighed. “But owner doesn’t work. First of all, I’d argue cats really own us. They often just show up and move themselves in. Pet friend?”

Caleb laughed. “I don’t know.” He thought this whole argument was silly, but he was enjoying talking to Lauren.

They were nearing Borough Hall, which meant they’d have to make some choices about which direction to walk in if they were going to get dinner. “How do you feel about Vietnamese food?”

“I like it. Are you changing the subject to avoid picking a fight with me about how ridiculous I’m being?”

“A little. But basically, soon we’ll have to decide if we want Asian or Mexican food to the left or burgers or sandwiches to the right.”

“Vietnamese is fine. Have we…turned a new leaf?”

“You sound condescending, but I really am trying to not be a jerk. I’ll pick a fight with you if you really want, cat lady.”

“Well, let’s wait until we get to your place. No need to make a scene.”

***

Caleb’s place turned out to be a garden apartment with its own entrance in a brownstone a few blocks from Borough Hall. Lauren had long thought “garden apartment” was just a euphemism for “ground floor,” but in this case, French doors at the back of the apartment really did lead out to a garden that the house’s owner maintained.

The apartment was nice, although sparsely furnished. There was a butter-yellow sofa in the narrow living room that faced a nice TV and several bookcases stuffed with veterinary textbooks, doorstopper history books, and some battered fantasy novels. A galley kitchen in the middle was small but had clearly been renovated recently, and it led to the bedroom in the back.

And, of course, there was the huge dog who hopped happily in greeting when Lauren and Caleb had walked through the door.

In other words, it was downright swanky for a bachelor apartment, and it demonstrated how fussy and clean Caleb was, and also how few things he owned, although Lauren guessed he’d lost some things in the divorce.

The poor dog was nearly apoplectic with excitement to be meeting a new person. Lauren knelt on the floor and scratched his ears. “Hi, buddy. I’m very happy to meet you, too.” He licked her face in response, which tickled enough to make her laugh.

Caleb dropped the takeout bag on a little table just outside the kitchen and said, “Dig in. I’m going to take Hank out back and then feed him.”

While Caleb took care of Hank, Lauren unpacked the bag of food from the Vietnamese restaurant. It seemed like they’d ordered half the menu, probably because Lauren had been indecisive. There were bun noodles and spring rolls and meat on skewers and a plastic tub of pho. She thought about raiding Caleb’s cabinets for plates and silverware, but he came back inside with Hank before she got there.

“Plates?” she said.

“Yeah, hang on. Be right with you.”

Lauren leaned in the archway that led to the kitchen and watched as Caleb went through what was probably his evening routine. He told Hank to sit, then crossed the kitchen and scooped some dog food from a huge plastic container into Hank’s bowl. Then he stood up and said, “Go get it.” Hank bounded across the kitchen and started gobbling up his food.

“He came trained,” Caleb said. “He was well cared for before he was left at the vet clinic. I can’t figure out why someone would just abandon a dog like that, but their loss is my gain, I guess. He’s a good dog.” He pulled a couple of plates from a cabinet and forks from a drawer and joined Lauren at the table.

They had a pleasant meal, carrying on conversation as easily as they had on their walk here while Hank nosed around at their feet waiting for food to drop. Caleb explained that he and his ex-wife had honeymooned in Asia, touring Japan, South Korea, China, Vietnam, and Thailand. They’d essentially eaten their way across all five countries. Even after all that had happened, he seemed nostalgic about the trip. He still loved Asian food.

“You know, it’s funny,” Lauren said. “I worked with a woman at Bloomingdale’s who once dated an Indian man, and after that relationship imploded, you couldn’t even say ‘tikka masala’ around her without her losing her mind. She’s missing out. I’d never let a man force me to give up Indian food. I love curry too much.”

“I tried that Indian place near the vet clinic. Their lunch special is more food than any human should eat in one sitting, but it’s so good I want to.”

Lauren laughed. “Yeah, that place is good. The Thai place on Bond