Free Make, Take, Murder by Joanna Campbell Slan

tail.’ Happens a lot with your big breeds. Poor girl keeps re-injuring herself as she wags it.”
    He suggested that they keep Gracie overnight, which stretched to two nights. At the clinic they put my baby in a special crate lined with pads to minimize the impact of her wagging and gave her a shot of antibiotics.
    Leighton drummed his fingers on the table. “That’s too bad. I hope she recovers quickly. I heard about your Dumpster-diving episode. Imagine bringing up part of a corpse. That’s an assumption, of course. The other option is too terrible to consider.”
    He was right about that.
    He continued, “I stopped by because I need help. I’m leaving town on a mini-book tour. Do you have a few minutes? I could show you how to care for Monroe.”
    Petunia was his scaredy-cat pug and Monroe his pet donkey. In return for reduced rent, I bartered my services as pet sitter. “Of course.”
    A few snowflakes danced in my porch light as we stepped out my front door. The air actually felt warmer than it had at noon. Leighton called out to Monroe as we approached. A clatter of hooves on cold hard ground greeted us, his breath clouding the frigid air. In the center of Monroe’s pen was a sturdy shed over a concrete floor covered with sawdust and straw for bedding. The fencing attached to each side of the enclosure. A simple gate with a lift and drop latch completed the enclosure.
    “Monroe hates the color white,” Leighton explained while he scratched his pet under the neck. “He’s a rescue donkey. Spent his formative years at a petting zoo. Little kids loved to pull on his ears, and Monny has sensitive ears, don’t you, buddy? But donkeys are smart. Monroe figured out that if he head-butted kids in diapers, they’d stay away from him. As a consequence, my sure-footed friend thinks anything white is worthy of target practice.”
    I laughed. Monroe wore a bright blue blanket. Leighton explained that he had been “rugged up” as protection from the cold, and his garment was changed and laundered frequently. To my surprise, Monroe appeared every bit as affectionate and personable as a dog or a cat. He followed his owner around like a lovesick puppy. His big velvety lips tugged at Leighton’s barn jacket, as he leaned his forehead against Leighton’s arm.
    With a quick toss, Leighton lobbed an apple at me. “He can only have one of these a day. I saved this treat so you could give it to him.” Suddenly I was the center of Monroe’s world. I flattened my hand and offered up the fruit, which Monroe delicately removed. His soft lips tickled my palm, and I couldn’t help but crow with delight. “He’s so sweet!”
    “Unless you are wearing white,” said Leighton. “Then he’s a fur-covered bulldozer calculating how to mow you down. But I can’t blame him, can you? He was only trying to defend himself. A very noble response. Anthropologists say humans have two overwhelming drives: procreation, or adding to our species, and self-preservation, or maintaining our species. Surely Monroe has the right to self-defense. Why should we wish to deny him that?”
    I also learned that most donkeys don’t like dogs. “But Monny is very tolerant of them. Lucky for us dog lovers, eh?”
    Leighton showed me Monroe’s food and gave me instructions on how much to feed him. “Don’t let those brown eyes sucker you into extra food. It’s not good for him. Oh, and there’s a heater in his water supply, so it won’t freeze up.”
    The cares of the day evaporated as I learned how to care for my new friend. Leighton opened the back door to his home and called Petunia, his pug. The shy little boy-dog ran to me with his tail tucked between his legs, wriggling with joy. Tunie and I had been pals for ages, so I scooped up the cute smashed-nose pup and gave him a cuddle.
    “By the way, Kiki, you do know you can turn me down for pet sitting, right? I don’t expect you to be available every time I ask.”
    He’s such a nice