Dr. Stillson did whatever math was necessary for the Benadryl dosage, and we managed to get Humboldt quiet enough to sleep on a pile of blankets in the exam room. I don’t have a dog crate for him—do they even make those in Humboldt size?—so Catrina and the doc agree to keep him until I return from Vancouver.
Except I don’t know how to drive a boat, hence why I am sitting in linen slacks, a bamboo-cotton blend blouse, and my favorite Alexander McQueen wedge sandals, my upper half wrapped in a borrowed flannel down coat that smells like the back of Finan’s work truck. Since my seat on the passenger side in this vessel’s cockpit spins away from the steering wheel, I pretend to take in the scenery rather than engage in small talk while Finan moves us out of the marina and into the strait.
It
