Reign of Terrier

by Lori R. Taylor

  But it felt … right. True. For a moment, as she’d looked into those amber eyes, Tessa could’ve sworn there was something more than just dog in there. That somehow, the dog understood her the way Livy always had, with a love that accepted her as she was but believed she could still be better than she had been.

  Tessa was already halfway to reaching for her phone and calling a taxi, but her hand paused as her fingers brushed across nothing at her side.

  She’d forgotten her purse somewhere inside the shelter.

  Ugh.

  She stood, a little shakily, and hurried back into Pretty Paws, hoping that she wouldn’t have to face more than just Eliza to get it back.

  The warm, lavender-scented air was a strange relief as she opened the door. All three of the other people — Eliza, Dr. Dale, and Leslie — were at the desk and looked up at her when Tessa came in.

  Dr. Dale frowned, but it was a gentle, concerned sort of expression, which somehow made it worse. “Are you okay?”

  “Oh. Yeah. I just … I’m fine.” Her voice ended up directed at her shoes.

  Leslie smiled and set the purse on the counter. “You forgot this.”

  “Yeah.” Tessa grabbed it without looking at any of them. Her cheeks were hot enough to light a fire. “Thanks.”

  “Do you need a ride? I could call a taxi.”

  “No need. I can do that myself. Thanks.”

  Tessa dug out her phone and started scrolling for the nearest taxi service, already moving once again toward the door. But her fingers stopped, frozen with a sudden realization.

  If she went home now, it would be to return to an empty house and a total failure. Not only had she embarrassed herself in front of people she was trying to make a decent impression on, but she hadn’t even done what she set out to do here.

  And the house, devoid of any other living things, would only echo that back to her again and again.

  She’d fallen at the final hurdle, given up on everything she’d ever wanted, the things she’d worked so hard for, that she promised people she would accomplish, and she’d have no one to blame but herself.

  She couldn’t take it. She couldn’t take the empty house anymore.

  Tessa turned around, spinning hard enough on her heels to make her vision blur for a moment, and looked up at the Pretty Paws staff staring back at her. She met Leslie’s eyes with a shot of courage she didn’t know she possessed.

  “You said Princess was looking for a home?”

  Leslie smiled a smile that was oddly knowing, as if she had expected something like this, even though the words coming out of Tessa’s mouth were a bit of a shock to her. “I did say that.”

  “Well, then. I…” She cleared her throat. “I wanna offer my home to her.”

  Chapter Eight

  Princess curled back up on her bed the moment Leslie returned her to her kennel. Labby scratched at the door of his kennel, rattling the latch and making her shiver, and Leslie paused to coo at him.

  “Soon,” she murmured, and though Princess’ view of her was blocked by the high, sheltering walls of her soft bed, she could imagine Leslie pressing her hand against the bars of his kennel door and letting him lick at her fingers — the sound of a sloppy tongue and the tang of his breath proved that he was licking something, at least. “We’ll find the right one.”

  Stupid Labby didn’t even seem to react to those words, just continued to slobber over whatever he was lapping at.

  Princess couldn’t see him at all; the wall between them was solid, a quiet sort of gray paneling, but she knew what he looked like. She’d seen him in the hall and out in the play group. A floppy, sloppy chocolate with a skull so thick he’d run into the fence around the outdoor play area without noticing he’d bumped his head.

  She’d seen him do it. Twice in a row. Because apparently, he really was that stupid.

  They couldn’t see each other, but that didn’t mean Princess couldn’t still glare at him and growl, too low for any noise, but hopefully he would understand just how much she resented it, that he, the dumbest dog in the shelter, could warrant a home, while her home had set her down and run away.

  Labby gave no indication that he noticed her anger; he licked at his food dish, banging it against the dish holder at the front of each kennel, because he’d already finished his breakfast and didn’t realize food didn’t come just by licking at an empty dish.

  A whine was building in her throat — something of grief and frustration and misery that Princess didn’t want anyone to ever know she felt. She burrowed her nose into her bed and closed her eyes before the sound could leak out of her.

  Sleep would help. It would waste away the time and shave the rough edges off her despair. It always had before.

  She must’ve drifted off a bit, because the sounds of the kennel room door opening, the light tap-tap-tap of human footsteps, woke her.

  Two pairs of footsteps. One was Leslie’s — she had a particular pattern to her walk that was easy to identify even in the jumble of barking and whining that trailed after her. But the second pair was unusual. Sharp, with the sort of clicking edge that didn’t happen with any feet that walked this tiled hall.

  Unusual, but not entirely unfamiliar.

  Princess lifted her head. She’d heard that sound before, just once, but it was memorable for the human it belonged to.

  That was how her own human had sounded when she’d run from The Front, her feet switching from the soft floor of the room to the tile of the hallway beyond it.

  Princess knew not to get her hopes up — she couldn’t bear to have them crushed again if it wasn’t her human, or if it was, and she was going toward some kennel other than hers.

  But it was already too late for that — her hopes had risen without her permission.

  And then, somehow, they were there: Leslie and her human, stopping in front of Princess’s kennel door as if that’s where they’d been intending to go all along.

  Princess stood up and hopped over the edge of her bed. Leslie was smiling, holding a collar and lead in one hand and a paper folder in the other. “Hey, pup,” she said, her voice tilting up at the ends to express her surge of joy, “looks like you’re going home!”

  Home. Home. The thought echoed through her, louder even than her racing heart. She glanced up at her human.

  She smiled back.

  Leslie opened the kennel door, and Princess jumped into her human’s arms, which opened eagerly for her. Both women laughed, as pleased and excited as she was.

  Leslie handed her the collar and lead, which she had to wiggle them both around to accept, then laughed again, lightly, when Princess refused to uncurl her paws from her human’s neck. “I’ll get the bed and food,” she offered while the laugh still shone in her face.

  “Yeah. Thanks.”

  Princess didn’t care who touched what, as long as Tessa didn’t put her down.

  And she didn’t. In fact, she held her just a little bit closer, pressing Princess against her chest until she could feel her human heartbeat fluttering under her layers of cloth and skin.

  They left the kennel room together. Down the hall past The Front and out into a large room full of windows. There were some cheerful noises from one of the people who drove the metal food cart — a nice-enough human who always made sure the dinners were on time, but Princess could never forgive her for making all the noise she made with the cart — and some equally happy but less loud noises back made by Tessa.

  Princess didn’t pay much attention to the things they said to each other. She didn’t care. Her human was holding her, and her every hair and muscle were singing home, home, home until she could think of nothing else.

  A new human, a stranger, waited by the door set amongst all those windows. “Ready?” she asked, and her question was directed to Tessa.

  Was she coming home, too? Princess tried not to growl — if she was with Tessa, if she was part of what it meant to go home, then Princess didn’t dare do anything to mess it
up so soon, but neither was she ready to share. The growl caught halfway down her throat and came through her teeth as a strange huffing sound she’d never made before.

  “Hush,” Leslie warned, low enough to maybe not be heard by the other humans, as if she knew what Princess was thinking.

  She obeyed, nuzzling into Tessa’s shoulder and letting herself forget about the stranger now following them through the door.

  The world outside hit her like a food dish flipping up against the side of her head: hard and cold and sharp. New smells assaulted her nose — dark, rich scents; brighter, acrid ones; the wide-open spaces of what she knew was wind and sky only because she’d heard humans speak about them; large boxes of metal and paint and polish; concrete and glass and asphalt; and even the faint whiffs of food — sweet, warm, spicy meat and vegetables, pastries and coffee.

  It was too much. Too much to parse, too much to understand.

  Princess whined into Tessa’s neck. Her arms pressed her closer to her breast, offering some stability for her own trembling.

  Tessa carried her to one of the cars parked on the asphalt. Leslie and the stranger opened doors to push in the bed and some of the kennel food, then Leslie turned to Tessa and held out her hand. “Keep in touch. I always want to hear about how my pups are doing. And if you need anything, please don’t hesitate to let me know. I slid a schedule of training classes in the folder, just in case you end up wanting it.”

  Tessa took the folder and Leslie’s hand, the way humans did when greeting each other. Her voice came out small but warm and genuine. “Thank you.”

  Leslie glanced down at Princess, and for a moment, her hand hung suspended in the air as if she wanted to reach out and pet her head, but then she thought better of it and dropped it. She smiled instead. “Have fun in your new home,” she cooed. Then, as if on impulse, she brought her hand back up, fingers tucked lightly together and the back of her hand offered for a sniff, not too close to be frightening.

  Princess licked her knuckles and was rewarded with another warm laugh before she stepped back and let Tessa and her settle into the car.

  Chapter Nine

  Princess wouldn’t let Tessa put her down the entire ride home; every time she tried — and, to be fair, her efforts were not particularly eager — her claws would dig into her shoulders and she would whine pitifully until Tessa bundled her back tight in her arms. She could see Princess casting suspicious glances at Maggie in the driver’s seat and guessed that her new little mutt didn’t care for strangers.

  Which was fine. Neither did Tessa.

  So she held Princess close for the short drive from plaza to home while Maggie attempted a few words of small talk to fill in the silences.

  “I can’t believe you let Leslie Durant talk you into adopting a dog,” she said as they turned onto Tessa’s street. She spoke the name with an unmistakable grumble.

  “She didn’t talk me into it. I wanted her.” Princess’ shaking had calmed, but she still had her face pressed against Tessa’s neck, and Tessa wasn’t keen to disturb that position. It felt nice, the warmth of her, the weight and breath and beating heart snuggled close. It touched something cracked and lonely inside her.

  Maggie sniffed.

  “Is there something wrong with the shelter?”

  They turned into the drive, a short little thing that couldn’t hold more than a single car. Livy used to joke that she was glad Tessa didn’t drive, since they wouldn’t have space for a second car if she ever wanted it.

  “There’s nothing wrong with them,” Maggie answered at last. She parked but didn’t turn off the ignition. “Shelters can just be … well. Y’know. A nuisance to their neighbors. Lots of noise.”

  Tessa bit down a smile. “I’d take barking dogs over trend analysis any day.”

  “You say that until you actually have to deal with it.” But she was grinning. “Do you need a hand with things?”

  “No, I’m fine. Thanks. If…” Her fingers curled tight into Princess’ wiry fur. “If you see June, tell her I say hi?”

  “Course.”

  Tessa got out of the car. She’d clicked the collar around Princess’ neck on the drive, and now she lifted her off her shoulders — firmly ignoring the whine that echoed from her insides through her mouth at separating them — and set her onto her own feet. She pressed immediately against Tessa’s leg instead.

  Maggie giggled as Tessa grabbed the bed and food Leslie had sent along. “Clingy little thing.”

  Tessa just shrugged. She didn’t need to know how much she needed the feeling of another living thing touching her.

  Maggie left, and Tessa felt a bit of the tension in Princess’ little body ease as she disappeared. Her tail, which had been low and stiff, not quite tucked between her legs but definitely headed that way the entire drive, loosened into a small wag.

  Tessa shifted around the food and bed until she could free a hand to unlock and open her door, and brought them both into the house.

  Princess was hesitant as Tessa led her from the door and into the kitchen, then down the hall to the living room, but this wasn’t surprising — Leslie had told her she probably would be, that she was always uncertain about new places and took a while to get comfortable. Tessa unclipped the leash and settled onto the couch, where Princess immediately jumped up to join her, crawling onto her lap and leaning her head against Tessa’s chest in a gesture so cute Tessa had to pet her.

  She was kind of an ugly dog, the sort of small, uncertain thing Tessa would think of when she heard the word “mutt,” some kind of ten- or twelve-pound terrier with wiry gray hair and a snaggletooth that was chipped and stained brown. Her eyes were a striking amber, impossible to ignore against the dark hair around her face, and one ear stuck up while the other flopped at the tip.

  Ugly, but it didn’t take more than a few seconds to decide that she crossed into “so ugly it’s cute” territory.

  And really, what difference did her appearance make? Tessa didn’t care what she looked like — it was the personality, the kindred spirit she saw looking back at her, that she wanted. A living, breathing companion to fill the empty house.

  That was what she needed, and she didn’t even realize that until Leslie had brought her in this morning.

  “You and me, Princess,” Tessa whispered, rubbing at the spot behind her silly ears that made her press back against the pressure. “We’re going to be a team, aren’t we?”

  She made a noise, probably just a little grunt of pleasure for the scratching, but Tessa couldn’t help but hear it as a murmur of agreement as well.

  She ventured away from the couch a couple of times over the next couple of hours while Tessa, half dozing, channel-surfed so that there was some kind of noise filling the room. Princess almost jumped off her lap when she turned on the TV, but slowly, curiosity did end up getting the better of her worry, and she crept up on the screen with pricked ears and wide eyes. She sat down in front of the table that served as a media center for a long moment, head cocked with interest, then peered around behind it as if wondering where all the people and noises were coming from.

  Tessa giggled. She’d heard of dogs that enjoyed watching TV, but she’d never seen it herself.

  It seemed that she had one of those dogs now.

  It took Princess almost the entire episode of Paternity Court to lose some of her interest in the television and venture a little further out from the couch. Tessa had dropped her bed near the far window when they first came in, figuring she’d bring it up to the bedroom when she again felt like moving, and Princess sniffed along every inch of the familiar fabric as if she didn’t recognize it at all.

  Then, having finished examining it in its new context, she turned back to the couch, bumped Tessa’s leg with her nose, accepted a few pets, and wandered out toward the hall.

  This continued through the late afternoon’s second episode of Paternity Court; with every few feet she gained in exploring the house, Princess came back as if seeking rea
ssurance, wanting to know Tessa was still where she’d left her. With no particular urge to get up from where she’d flopped, Tessa remained half-dozing on the couch.

  As Paternity Court swapped out for the 5 o’clock news, her phone rang. Caller ID showed the name “Eliza Jacobson,” and it took her a moment to remember who that was.

  Then it clicked. The woman from Pretty Paws, the one who’d been sitting behind the desk, who answered her call in the first place. Who she’d exchanged numbers with because she mentioned she was working on the Harper Jones program, too, and suggested that they get together sometime to study.

  Who’d been there to see the way Tessa freaked out and managed to not do what she was there for while she was there.

  Adrenaline coursed cold and jittery through her veins, but Tessa tried to ignore it. Princess, probably sensing the change in Tessa from lazy TV-watching to sudden fear, looked up from where she was sniffing around the far corner of the living room to meet her eyes.

  “Right. This is good.”

  She said the words aloud, mostly because there was someone there to hear them, but also because saying it aloud made it feel that much more real. Easier to believe that which was said aloud than when just thought about.

  At least, that’s what she’d always told herself, and for the most part, she seemed to believe it.

  And at least it gave her the wherewithal now to answer her phone.

  “Tessa?”

  It was Eliza’s voice, as chipper as it had been earlier, cutting in almost before Tessa had a chance to say hello.

  “Uhh … yeah. Hi.”

  She hoped she didn’t sound as flummoxed by her manner as she felt. Given that she’d started with a painfully long stutter, probably so.

  “Oh, good. I wasn’t sure if that was supposed to be a one or a seven. Guess I got it right!”

  Tessa didn’t have an answer for that, so she let the silence go on until Eliza felt compelled to break it. Fortunately, it took only a moment.