A Little Christmas Jingle by Michele Dunaway Page B

vitals. “So how was lunch with Mr. December?” Angela asked.
    â€œJack,” Kat corrected. She and Angela had worked together for three years now, and Angela’s brows lifted at the correction.
    â€œThat sounds pretty friendly.”
    Kat ran her fingers through her hair, a nervous habit. “We aren’t friendly. He showed up here with a complaint letter. He came to investigate me, and the interview probably ruined my chances with the city.”
    â€œSo, make him fix it. Have Jack help you with the adoption event. He said he’s a fair guy. Make him prove it.”
    â€œWhat are you suggesting?”
    Angela shrugged. “Louise and I talked. He’s a local celebrity. A press magnet. People will come here just to meet him, and after they do, maybe they’ll go home with a new pet.”
    â€œDoesn’t that prove his point?” Kat asked. “That people are fickle?”
    â€œIgnore his Scrooge tendencies. Demand he help. He can sign some autographs or whatever. We get more people here, then we get more animals adopted. Claire will have the photos ready Monday, and we can start the heavy-duty PR.”
    Kat’s clinic posted cute pictures of adoptable animals on its web site, which always helped with finding pets new homes. They’d hang up flyers on the public supermarket boards and advertise via Facebook and Petfinder.com. “Even with all that we do, we need press. We need to capitalize on Jingle and Jack,” Angela insisted.
    â€œI’m not sure involving either of them is a good idea. Probably a conflict of interest. Jack’s not really thrilled with his fame.”
    Although a few years younger than Kat, Angela suddenly sounded far wiser. “Who cares? He allowed Anthony to come in here, which put you in a bind. So he should help you out. What can it hurt to ask him?”
    â€œHe hates Christmastime adoptions. He’s going to say no. And the city can and perhaps will shut down my event saying it’s also unsanctioned.”
    â€œWhich is why you need the press to love you. You need to be Jingle’s angel. Heck, be all stray animals’ guardian angel. Let’s keep reinforcing that every time Anthony comes.”
    â€œSounds mercenary.”
    â€œKat, this is your life’s passion. Your shelter. Your animals. What do we have to lose? Use Jack Donovan.”
    â€œI don’t use people.” That was unthinkable.
    â€œKat, I love you like a big sister. You’re more than my boss. But you need to put on some boxing gloves and get into the ring. Trust me. Jack is your golden ticket.”
    That logic made sense, Kat thought. It didn’t mean she liked it.
    â€œKat?” Louise, the front-desk receptionist, stood in the doorway.
    â€œYes?”
    â€œMr. Simons is here with Pebbles.”
    It was five minutes until closing, which meant it was an emergency. “What’s wrong?”
    â€œShallow breathing. He says she’s lying around. Won’t eat or drink. Been that way for a day or two.”
    â€œGet her into room two.”
    Kat met Jasper Simons in room two, where Pebbles, a sixteen-year-old cat, lay on the table. Mr. Simons was in his mid-fifties and lived nearby. “I just thought she wasn’t hungry the past few days, so I tried some new food and …”
    â€œShe’s old, Jas,” Kat said, placing her hand on Pebbles. She felt around, noting the cat’s glassy eyes and shallow inhalations. “Sometimes these things come on very quickly.”
    â€œShe’s not going to make it, is she?” he asked.
    Kat did a quick examination. She’d been treating Pebbles for five years and knew her well. “She’s had a long life. A great one. I know you love her very much, but this is renal failure. We could do dialysis, but …”
    His hand trembled. “So it’s time?”
    She delivered the news she so hated. “Yes. I think that would be