Diamond In The Ruff. Marie Ferrarella

her, momentarily confused. “Goes? Goes where? You mean with his owner?” she guessed.

      Theresa suppressed a laugh. “No, I meant as in him relieving himself. Unless made to understand otherwise, that puppy is going to think the whole world is his bathroom.”

      Lily looked at her in complete horror. “Oh, God, I didn’t think of that.”

      “Don’t beat yourself up, Lily,” Theresa told her kindly, putting her arm around her protégé’s shoulders. “You’ve never had a pet before.” Then, to further ease the young woman’s discomfort, Theresa told her, “There were always dogs around when I was growing up. This is all like second nature to me.”

      If she felt that way, maybe there was a chance that she could convince her boss to take the puppy if no one came forward to claim him. Lily gave it one more try. “Are you sure that you don’t want to—”

      Immediately aware where this was going, Theresa deftly headed it off. “Not a chance. My Siamese would take one look at Jonathan and scratch his eyes out, then go on strike and not eat her food for a week just to make me suffer. As long as that prima donna resides with me, I can’t have any other four-footed creatures coming within a yard of the house.” Theresa gave her a sympathetic smile. “I’m afraid that until you find his owner, you and Jonathan are going to be roomies.”

      Lily nodded, resigned—for the moment. “Then I’d better get started trying to find his owner,” she told Theresa.