Ilya is the white woman who rescues "kitties" and "puppies" from the sides of roads only to bring them to vets who go "this is a mountain lion/coyote/cougar/lynx pup" and on one occasion that Shane will never let him live down "this is a bear cub".
Shane has the nearest wildlife sanctuaries/rehabs at the Cottage and in Ottawa on speed dial. They're on a first name basis with Ilya and most of them don't even know Ilya or Shane play hockey they're just "the Russian with the white woman animal whispering powers and his long suffering husband"
Shane pinched his thumb and forefinger against the bridge of his nose, suppressing a heavy sigh as he reached for his phone. He was standing in the kitchen of the Cottage, the huge window letting in the natural light, painting everything a soft gold colour.
He had been at the Cottage for a grand total of three hours now, ready to start his relaxing holiday. Hell, the groceries he had bought hadn't even been moved from the stack of bags on the island counter where they had been placed haphazardly.
Shane had meant to deal with that as soon as possible but unfortunately, very foreseen circumstances had distracted him from his task and sent him running outside and into the chaos.
Opening his contacts, he flicked down to a very familiar number and pressed the call button, shooting an annoyed look towards the dining room table as he raised it to his ear.
The phone rang three times before it was answered with a soft hello.
"Hi Janice, it's Shane." He said, his tone curt, his eyes not leaving the scene before him.
He listened for a moment, hearing the reply.
"Yes, the holiday just started. We arrived today actually." He continued.
There was another pause. And then….
"I don't want to know who won the bet. I just wanted to let you know, it happened again."
Another pause.
"No. Not a Bear this time, thankfully. You don't need to send everyone out here. Just Marcel will do."
Silence for a moment as Shane listened. And then….
"A baby loon actually."
Quickly he raised a hand to stop an argument coming from the dining area.
"Yeah, he thought it was an injured duck."
Silence and then.
"Ok. Thank you Janice. We will wait for Marcel to arrive. Hopefully he hasn't named it this time."
Then Shane hung up the phone, his head dropping so he could stare at the device intently.
Taking a deep breath through his nose, he held it for a few seconds before slowly releasing it through his mouth.
Then he again raised his head to glare at the table. Where Ilya sat, mud splattered and cradling a thick towel to his chest. At his feet, equally mud splattered, her tail wagging, sat Anya. Thank God she was well trained enough not to start running through the place. As Shane stared, a small and incredibly ugly head popped out of the folds of fabric, looking around in confusion.
"You can't keep it, Ilya." He said pointedly.
Ilya threw him a disappointed look, his grip on the towel tightening.
"But Katya looked so cold and scared outside." He argued. "I couldn't just leave her. Not my fault she turned out to be an ugly, stupid wolf bird. Besides, Anya bonded with her."
Shane groaned and dropped his head to meet the cool stone counter.
"Ilya, God Dammit!"
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(This caught my attention, and I had to give it a go. I actually have written a lot more of this idea and was thinking of doing a full story but for the moment, here is a ficlet I wrote to procrastinate vacuuming)
