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The shelter itself still looked new and clean, contrary to the pound that had existed before, and which had been an abomination and a thorn in the side of every animal lover in town. At the new shelter the animals were well taken care of by a small contingent of volunteers who didn’t stint in their affection for the creatures who were forced to spend time there, whether short or long, depending how quickly new homes could be found.

Vesta had decided to pay a visit to the shelter with her new boyfriend Dallas de Prav?, a wealthy businessman and investor she’d met on her recent Norwegian cruise. He was Finnish, as far as she knew, and as rich as the sea in those Norwegian fjords was deep. And so if there was anyone who could invest in the shelter it was definitely Dallas.

The billionaire - tan, stocky, handsome and about Vesta’s own age - was bobbing his head with distinct interest as Marsella showed them around the facility.

“So how long does it usually take you to find a new home for your darlings?” Vesta wanted to know.

“Days, sometimes. Weeks at the most.”

“That’s good,” said Vesta as she stared at a particularly moody-looking mutt who stared back at her as if to say: ‘So what’s your problem then, sweetheart?’

Marsella, who was fortyish and very efficient but also very blond and blue-eyed, was standing a little too close to Dallas to Vesta’s liking, so she inserted herself between the two, even as Dallas pointed to a tiny doggie and said, “What he?”

“That’s a Brussels Griffon,” said Marsella. “Her name is Windex.”

“Windex?” asked Vesta with a frown. “What kind of a name is that?”

“It’s the name her previous owner gave her.”

“What was he? A window washer?”

“No, she was an elderly lady who had to move into a nursing home where unfortunately they don’t allow pets. And since her daughter wasn’t interested in providing a home for Windex she was forced to put her up with us until we can find her a suitable new pet parent.” She gave Vesta a gentle smile. “Want to hold her for a moment?”

“Oh, no,” said Vesta, waving a hand. “I know what you’re trying to do, and you have to cut that out right now. My home is full. Four cats is more than enough for any person.”

“Win-dex,” Dallas murmured, enunciating carefully. “Win… dex.”

“You can take her, if you want,” said Vesta. “You like dogs? Dallas?”

“Mh?” said the aged billionaire.

“Do you like dogs?” she repeated, gesticulating extensively.

“Yes, yes,” he murmured with a smile. “Windex dog.”

“He doesn’t speak English?” asked Marsella.

“He’s Finnish,” Vesta explained.

“How did you meet?”

“Aboard a cruise ship in Norway. I told him my name was Vesta Muffin and he said ‘I like American muffin’ and we never looked back. So how long has Windex been here?”

“Three weeks, and she’s really pining, I can tell. It’s heartbreaking, really.”

“It is,” Vesta agreed as she took in the poor little creature that was staring at her with its liquid brown eyes, as if imploring her to do something. “Why is no one taking her?”

“I don’t know. She looks a little funny, so kids tend not to like her and adults think she’s probably too set in her ways after having spent so many years with the same person. I try to tell them she’s the sweetest thing on earth but they just look at her and shiver.”

Vesta frowned.“Why? She looks fine to me.”

Marsella dropped her voice and whispered into Vesta’s ear, “They say she looks like a bat.”

Vesta studied the tiny doggie some more. Windex did look a little like a bat, with her big ears and her small snout. Even the coloring was a little batlike.“So?” she said. “Kids love those Batman movies. You could tell them Windex is Batman’s little helper.”

Marsella laughed.“Now there’s an idea.”

“Win-dex,” Dallas said slowly. “Dog.” He smiled. “Windex, dog.”

“Yes, yes, Windex is a dog,” said Vesta impatiently. The man might be made of money but he was definitely an odd bird. “Okay, fine,” she said, making one of her trademark swift decisions. “I’ll take her. Did she get all her shots and stuff?”

Marsella stared at her.“You’ll take her?”

“Sure, why not? She looks like a sweet little thing, and my grandson-in-law loves dogs.”

“Absolutely,” said Marsella, and pressed a warm hand upon Vesta’s arm. “You won’t be sorry.”

“I’m not so sure about that,” Vesta murmured as she followed Marsella to the office.

Behind them, Dallas trailed.“Windex dog,” he was muttering.

In the office she met one of the volunteers: Shelley Eccleston looked like a teenager but was probably older than she looked. Then again, all young people looked like teenagers to Vesta, with their unblemished faces and their peach-perfect skin.

“Can you prepare the paperwork for Windex, Shelley?” asked Marsella. “Vesta is taking her home.”

“Ooh, that’s great!” said the girl with all the fervor of youth. “You’re a saint, Mrs. Muffin. An absolute saint.”