An American Bulldog
“Man, what a doll she was. Doll was probably too tame a word. Dolls were plastic with synthetic hair. Nothing synthetic or plastic about that gal! From the top of that ebony black ’fro to the high—though small—dark points visible down the front of her shirt to the tips of those clunky, awkward looking blue clogs.
Nametag said she was Taryn B. Since the first time he came here, he’d wondered what the B stood for. Darned if he’d ask. No way she’d tell him since he gave her such a hard time about h...is own name.
The door at the back of the small examination room opened. The shortest vet—well, the shortest woman—he’d ever seen came in the room. She couldn’t have touched five feet tall, but she was perfectly proportioned. “Good afternoon, I’m Dr. Tonya Lansing.” “Dolf Brown. Nice t’meetcha.” She went to reading the dog’s chart and he went to wondering how he could get Taryn back in here. If he told the vet she hadn’t finished trimming Denver’s nails, she might catch some trouble.MoreLess
Nametag said she was Taryn B. Since the first time he came here, he’d wondered what the B stood for. Darned if he’d ask. No way she’d tell him since he gave her such a hard time about h...is own name.
The door at the back of the small examination room opened. The shortest vet—well, the shortest woman—he’d ever seen came in the room. She couldn’t have touched five feet tall, but she was perfectly proportioned. “Good afternoon, I’m Dr. Tonya Lansing.” “Dolf Brown. Nice t’meetcha.” She went to reading the dog’s chart and he went to wondering how he could get Taryn back in here. If he told the vet she hadn’t finished trimming Denver’s nails, she might catch some trouble.MoreLess
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