Chapter 3
We managed to get a flight rather easily and arrived back in New York long before lunchtime. “Shush, Wilbur!” My Frenchie was still barking a good two minutes after I’d entered the house. That was unusual. “Come here. I missed you, too.”
But he cowered when I went to pet him. That was even weirder.
“Easy, boy.” I threw my duffle bag into a far corner and got down on the floor at his level. That seemed to calm him some. “You okay, my sweet Wilbur?”
Wilbur was mostly white, which sometimes looked pink because of his short fur. He resembled a little piggy so much, especially as a tiny puppy, the name Wilbur, after the character in Charlotte’s Web, was the first and last I’d considered.
“Has he been on edge all weekend?” I asked my sister, Shelby.
“No,” she told me. “He’s been
