Chapter One

      “Good morning, Dr. Mac. And happy birthday.” The young woman sitting at the reception desk in the clinic handed him a small stack of pink slips. “Your messages.”

      “Thank you, Jenny. For both the birthday wish and these,” he said, waving the pink slips in the air.

      “I put up a sign. I hope you don’t mind,” she said, nodding toward the waiting area where a computer-generated banner hung on the wall. It read, “Bark for Dr. Mac’s birthday.”

      Dr. Michael McFerrin wished the staff didn’t see birthdays as an occasion to celebrate. If it were up to him, he’d treat his as if it were just another day of the week. Get up, go to work and come home. No fuss. No big deal.

      Unfortunately, Jenny—and he guessed the other employees at the clinic—thought his birthday merited more than a casual “oh, by the way, happy birthday” wish in passing. He discovered this was true when he stepped into his office and saw the cake. Suddenly, behind him was the entire office staff.

      “That looks like an awful lot of fire for one cake,” he quipped as the tech, Tabitha, began lighting the candles.

      “Quick, make a wish,” she said, when all thirty-five had been lit.

      Mac wasn’t one to make wishes. He closed his eyes briefly to humor them, then with a deep breath, blew out the candles. One remained lit. He blew once more, it went out and then burst into flame again.

      “All right. So who put the trick candle on the cake?” he asked, surveying the small group gathered around him.

      “No wishes for you this year,” Tabitha said smartly as she pulled the candles from the frosting. “Who’s having cake?”

      “I haven’t had breakfast,” Mac remarked.

      “Sir, this is breakfast,” Tabitha retorted, cutting the cake with a large knife. “I’ll cut you a big one.”

      “First he has to open his present,” Jenny reminded everyone.

      Present? He squirmed uncomfortably. “Didn’t we agree last year that there were going to be no more presents?” He plastered his sternest look on his face.

      “You agreed,” Tabitha retorted. “We didn’t.”

      Jenny produced a brightly wrapped package. He fumbled with the gold ribbon that refused to come undone. Finally Jenny reached over and clipped it with scissors. “Thanks,” he mumbled.

      Inside the box was a T-shirt that had a cartoon drawing of a shaggy mutt on the front. Below was a caption that read “In Dog Years I’m Dead.”

      He grinned. “Very funny, ladies.”

      “We know you’re not dead, sir,” Jenny spoke up.

      “Well, Jenny does anyway,” Tabitha quipped. “She answers your private line. What’s the total so far this month?”

      “Only seven. He’s slipping,” Jenny answered.

      “Oh-oh. He is getting old, isn’t he?” Lynn, the other vet on staff, teased.

      Michael didn’t need to ask to what the number seven referred. His all-female staff made no secret of the poll they had each month. Instead of having sports pools as most offices had, they had a Dr. Mac pool. Every woman in the office put in five bucks and made a guess as to how many women would bring in a healthy pet just for the chance to spend a few minutes with him.

      “Dr. Mac, you should get married and put all those poor women out of their misery,” Jenny advised.

      He sighed. “At my age, Jenny, all the good ones are gone.”

      “You’re just not looking in the right places,” Tabitha told him, handing him a large square of chocolate cake iced with white frosting.

      Michael wasn’t really looking at all. He’d never had to. Women found him. Ever since he’d played football in high school and college, he hadn’t lacked for female companions. And as for marriage, he’d never thought much about it. Why should he? He had a great life as a single guy and he didn’t need to complicate it with the kind of love romanticized by songs and movies.

      “Are you still dating Julia?” Tabitha wanted to know.

      “Oh, good heavens, no. She’s gone. It’s a Colleen now,” Jenny answered.

      “It’s nobody right now,” Michael corrected her.

      “That might change real soon,” Phyllis, the lab tech, said smugly.

      “Of course it’ll change,” another piped up. “It’s simply a matter of time.”

      Michael just grinned in amusement. Over the years he’d grown accustomed to their good-natured teasing.

      “Yes, it is. Listen to this,” Phyllis commanded everyone, waving the newspaper in midair. “It’s Dr. Mac’s horoscope for having a birthday today,” she announced, then cleared her throat before reading aloud. “‘You may help someone who is down on his or her luck by buying his or her wares.’”

      “That’s nothing new. Dr. Mac does that all the time. He takes Henry’s products even though he knows we won’t be able to use them all,” Jenny reminded everyone.

      Phyllis continued. “Your lucky money months are September and January.”

      “Guess that means we should wait to hit him up for a raise, eh?” Tabitha quipped.

      Phyllis smiled, then went on. “‘Listen to the advice of a close relative and act upon it.’”

      “I don’t have any close relatives except Tessie, and I always take her advice,” Michael said.

      “And so you should. She’s a wise woman,” Phyllis told him, then finished reading the horoscope. “Now here’s the best part. ‘Take a romantic risk in the next three weeks because you’re more emotionally available to love now than you’ve ever been in the past.’”

      “Oh-oh. Maybe Dr. Mac is finally going to meet his match,” Tabitha said with a challenging gleam in her eye.

      Michael