Free Frisky Business by Tawna Fenske Page A

Enough to create a popular traveling exhibit that would fund an entire new wing for Cheez Whiz.
    But Will wasn’t so sure.
    “You worry too much,” his sister always told him.
    Bethany had a point. He hated when that happened.
    He spent the rest of the afternoon trying to keep his body and brain occupied. He took the dogs for a hike along the river and spent an hour volunteering at the Humane Society. Sorted through some bills, played a game of Angry Birds on his iPhone. At five o’clock, Will changed out of his jeans and into—well, a pair of jeans with fewer holes.
    Board meetings were one of the few times he made a concession to playing dress-up, but there was no need at a charity function that featured animals defecating in the foyer. Pulling on a faded T-shirt, he straightened it so the picture of two unicorns humping settled squarely in the middle of his chest. He started to grab his slippers, but remembered Bethany’s chiding.
    “Sandals,” he said aloud, and stuffed his feet into a pair of old Birkenstocks.
    He wandered out to the living room where his three dogs were lined up on the sofa like a furry welcoming committee. Rosco, the German shepherd mix, eyed Will with curiosity and thumped his tail on the couch cushions. Polly licked the end of her stubby pug nose and yawned. Omar lay there like a fuzzy blend of boulder and spaniel.
    “How do I look?” he asked them.
    Rosco cocked one ear and barked. Polly rolled onto her back for a belly rub, while Omar—deaf as a doornail for longer than he’d lived with Will—kept right on sleeping.
    “Excellent,” Will said, grabbing his keys off the peg by the door. “Don’t wait up, guys.”
    Rosco barked again and chewed a ratty tennis ball, while Omar snored. Polly hopped off the sofa and trotted over to him with a toy mouse in her mouth. She deposited it at his feet and looked up with buggy brown eyes.
    “Thanks, girl,” Will said as he stooped to pick it up. “It’s the perfect hostess gift.”
    He drove back to Bed’s house with the stereo blasting Debbie Gibson, his arm hanging out the window in the evening breeze. He sang along with “Electric Youth,” not caring that he was hopelessly out of tune. He pulled up the driveway and hadn’t even brought the car to a complete stop when a uniformed valet came running up.
    “Sir, if I can have your car keys, sir.”
    “Absolutely,” Will said. “Good idea auctioning it off for charity.”
    “Sir?”
    Will handed him the keys. “Don’t forget to charge extra for the dog fur on the seats.”
    The valet looked relieved to be rid of Will as he maneuvered around the house to the parking area behind the barn. Will took a moment to dust dog fur off the sleeves of his button-down shirt before striding up the walkway.
    The front door flew open before he had a chance to knock, and a constipated-looking butler waved Will inside.
    “Sir, right this way.”
    “Thanks,” Will said, and moved through the door.
    He spotted the badgers right away, looking resplendent—if mildly annoyed—at the end of their mauve and green leashes. Darin was leading them around the perimeter of the room, allowing them to waddle slowly past the tipsy guests. A woman in a red dress clutching a champagne flute bent down and tried to pet Floyd, and Darin casually blocked her assault with a smile and a Cheez Whiz brochure about wildlife.
    Will turned toward the badger cages, which were decked out with colorful ribbons woven with sprigs of juniper and tiny wildflowers. Marley had affixed mauve and green bows to the corners of their Plexiglas digging display, anchoring each with a bit of desert sage.
    Will studied the décor, then Bed’s curtains. Damn if it wasn’t a perfect match.
    Darin approached with the badgers and pulled a pair of thick leather gloves from his back pocket. “Hey, Will.”
    “Darin, how’s it going?”
    “Not bad, not bad,” he said as he yanked the gloves on and began laying down treats to urge Frank up