by Debbie Burns
“You slept on that worn-out couch in the front parlor, didn’t you? I’m betting you didn’t even take your shoes off.”
He smiled. “There’s something to be said for being ready.”
Kelsey let out a soft sigh. “I found out the reason they weren’t here yesterday was because they were protesting in front of the shelter.”
“If they show up there today, then at least I won’t have to waste any time looking for them,” Kurt said, cocking an eyebrow.
“You and me both. Megan and I talked about sending Patrick out to them. No one can outtalk Patrick. He’s got a photographic memory.”
“He can talk all he wants. As for me, there’s a lot I’d like to do, but talking’s not high on my list.”
Kelsey pursed her lips, clearly not liking his comment. He suspected she was debating whether to call him on it. Behind her, through the open car door, there was an almost inaudible whine. “Oh, I almost forgot. I brought Orzo.”
“Thanks,” Kurt said, switching to a lighter topic, “but I’m not really the pasta-for-breakfast type. And Ida was kind enough to bring over a sandwich about an hour ago.”
“Ha. That was sweet of her.” She glanced toward Ida’s house. “I really need to move it higher on my to-do list to bake her something in return.” She shut the driver’s-side door and opened the back passenger door. “And I know you know I was talking about our little corgi. Kurt, meet Orzo. I don’t allow myself to pick favorites, but if I did, it might be him.”
Kurt sank to a squat and let the brown-and-white corgi sniff his hand. He noticed that the dog’s tail was relaxed, not curled down around his haunches or forced upward on display. Orzo wagged it a few times before facing the house and sniffing the air.
Inside, not surprisingly, the house was starting to smell like dog, and Kurt had all the windows wide open. “What’s his story? Seems like he should be adoptable.”
“He is. Very. Like all our dogs really. He’s a special case though. His old owner operated a struggling bakery. When it started going under, she stopped buying dog food and fed him bakery leftovers. The woman’s mother finally brought him to us. Orzo came in so overweight he could barely walk. He had high blood pressure and was on the verge of being diabetic. But he was a rock star when it came to getting healthy. After six months of exercise and a healthy diet, he was cleared for adoption. That was a month ago. He’s had a few people show interest, but most folks are wary because, even with the weight loss, his sugar levels are a little off. He was almost adopted once, but that’s a story for another day.”
Kurt gave the puppy-faced corgi a gentle rub on the back of the neck. “The world is full of stories, isn’t it?”
“It is,” Kelsey agreed, “but I’m a firm believer that most of them are happy, or at least they wind up that way.”
Kurt stood and smiled, resisting the urge to pull her in for a deep kiss. How was it that in the few short hours of sleep he’d had, he’d dreamed about her again? They’d been inside the house, in a warm, sunny room upstairs. The room had a fresh, bright coat of paint, and they were lounging in a wide, comfortable bed. They’d been talking, and their fingers were entwined. The almost-constant ache he carried in his groin around her had fallen dormant. Instead, his chest was bursting with a sense of connection that didn’t come from sex, or at least not from sex with just anyone.
In real life, he’d never felt that connection with anyone, though last night he’d felt a brush or two of it with her. He’d had buddies and even dogs in his care that he would have laid down his life for, but he’d never been in love. Being the son of Sara and who knows who else, he wondered if that gene might be missing in his DNA. But he was also a descendant of his grandparents. They’d spent their lives loving each other, despite differences in culture and family traditions and religious beliefs. His grandmother was a devout Catholic. His grandfather was an atheist. Yet, even in their subtle, understated way, their love for each other had been immense. Why should it surprise him that some innate part of him seemed to want to make this old mansion his home and Kelsey his wife?
He’d only met her a week ago, and the old house belonged to the shelter. And inside, it was full of dogs who needed breakfast and a break from their kennels, and then some serious one-on-one training.
Thankfully, foggy-headed as he was, not only was there still a half a pot of coffee warming in the kitchen, but he could count on the occasional brushes of fingertips or elbows with Kelsey to keep him stimulated. “Speaking of happy stories, we should get to work ensuring that a few more end up that way.”
* * *
“We’ve got to get this on video,” Kelsey said later that afternoon, reaching into her pocket for her phone as Zeus dipped into a play bow next to Orzo. “Patrick, you don’t by any chance have the shelter’s DSLR in one of those pants pockets, do you?” Then, seeing that he was taking her literally by the way he cocked his head in contemplation—probably wondering how she could be insensible enough to think the bulky camera could fit into one of the pockets in his cargo pants—she added, “Kidding.”
Both dogs were on leashes—Zeus with Kurt and Orzo with Patrick—and had spent the last fifteen minutes walking around the front and side yards together. Now, they were hanging out by the side of the house under the massive oak trees whose leaves were turning yellow and orange.
Kurt had remained cautious, even though from the start it seemed as if Zeus was nothing but happy to have Orzo’s company. Kurt kept Zeus engaged by issuing commands and rewarding him with gentle pats, praise, and a couple treats here and there. When asked to do a command, Zeus seemed to forget the presence of the calm corgi merely feet away. He sat at attention, lay down, and heeled according to Kurt’s instructions.
Finally, Kurt gave the Argentine mastiff free rein the length of the leash. And the only thing Zeus seemed interested to do with it was play. When his play bow wasn’t enticing enough to draw Orzo in, he wagged his tail and barked, then spun in a tight circle and dropped into another play bow. Picking up on his energy, the corgi wagged his tail and barked in return.
Kelsey, the only one of the three observers not holding a leash, had just pressed Play on her phone when Zeus rolled onto his back and Orzo stepped in close to lick his cheek. Suddenly, Zeus was on his feet and moving in a blur. Kelsey flinched before realizing the two dogs were full-scale playing. A grin broke out across her face as she recorded them dropping into play bows respectively and circling around one another in a crazy, wild dance. Zeus was easily four times Orzo’s size, but he didn’t seem to know it. He rolled onto his back a second time, wriggling his big, white body. Orzo came up next to him, not quite tall enough to see over Zeus’s barrel chest, barking and wagging his tail. The little corgi even turned around to expose his back, a sign of play and relaxed submission.
The romping went on for several minutes, with Zeus twice getting excited enough to jump up on Kurt to try to lick his face. The giant dog was big enough to reach it too. Even excited as he was, Zeus heard and listened to Kurt’s command of “Down.” Unfazed, the Argentine mastiff dropped back to all fours and then went back to playing with Orzo.
Finally exhausted, the two dogs stood side by side, mouths agape, looking as if they were wearing big grins as they panted. After a few seconds, Orzo plopped to the ground and collapsed onto his side, tongue lolling, resembling the pasta he’d been named after. Zeus leaned over to lick the side of Orzo’s face before sinking to the ground to rest as well.
After zooming in, one at a time, for a close-up of each of their contented faces, Kelsey finished recording. She fisted the sleeve of Patrick’s polo in disbelief. “Patrick, if this is half as good as I think it is, you have to get this on Facebook today.”
A few years ago, Patrick had taken over management of the shelter’s social media accounts. At first, it had seemed like a strange turn of events, considering Patrick’s difficulty discerning emotions
, but his posts were well edited and spot-on, and he always ran the more emotional posts by Megan or Kelsey first. Once they added the adjectives and adverbs that made the story shine, he saw to the ins and outs of posting at the right time and ensuring the right followers saw and reposted the content.
Over the last few years, their social media following had increased tenfold. Kelsey was willing to bet this large Facebook following had helped Channel 3 choose to focus on the High Grove Animal Shelter over other area shelters six months ago for the weekly pet adoption stories the station had decided to produce.
“I suspect it’ll be as good as you’re hoping,” Patrick replied. “That was something. I agree with you, Kurt. It’s unlikely Zeus spent any time in a fighting ring.”
Kurt nodded. “He’s going to have an easier path than most of the other dogs we’ve taken in, that’s for certain. There are a few others inside who could end up in the same comfortable place with other dogs, but time will tell.”
Kelsey understood that most of these dogs would only be placed in single-dog homes. Significant ring time had left many of the dogs inhabiting Sabrina Raven’s home with as many emotional scars as physical ones. From here on out, they’d live quiet lives, and their new owners would need to agree to keep them out of dog parks and heavy crowds. But at least they’d be placed in loving homes. They’d get to experience what every dog should.
Her real hope was that the dogs would turn out to be more resilient and trusting than anyone expected. She liked to imagine every one of them not only learning to trust people again, but also learning to trust other dogs too.
Kurt and Patrick had Zeus and Orzo on their feet, and the group was heading around to the front of the house when Kelsey spotted a plain, white van pulling into the driveway.
“Looks like Rob’s on time,” Kurt said. “Patrick, let’s get these guys put away so as not to cause any more stress for our new arrival than necessary.”
Kelsey’s heart thumped in her chest. In all her years working with dogs, she’d never been as moved by one as she’d been by the resilient pit bull. “Patrick, here,” she said, passing him her phone before he headed inside. She didn’t want to get distracted and forget to give it to him later. “Take my phone with you when you head back to the shelter, please, so you don’t lose any quality in transfer. I’ll pick it up tonight when I drop Orzo off.”
Patrick slipped her phone into one of his deep pockets and buttoned it closed before leading Orzo inside to the deluxe travel crate where the ready-for-a-nap corgi was spending his downtime today.
Kelsey headed for the driveway where Rob was stepping from the van.
“How you holding up, young lady?” He walked toward her, hand extended, and ended up pulling her in for a hug. “I sure do appreciate all the work you’ve taken on here. You’re making a difference, that’s for sure.”
“It’s been an honor to be part of this. And I’m learning a lot too.”
“I expect you will. Hell, I expect my old mentee could teach me a thing or two anymore. He’s a regular old dog whisperer, his buddies tell me.”
“I won’t argue with you there. It’s something to watch him work.” Kelsey followed Rob toward the back of the van. He opened the double doors and stepped back. She was surprised to find close to fifteen crates, each with a dog inside. “Where are the other ones going?”
“Couple hours away. A little rehab place outside Jeff City.”
“That’s great. I’m so glad you’re placing so many dogs.”
“We’ve been lucky.”
“Kurt said the pit bull is doing pretty good,” Kelsey said as Rob zeroed in on the nearest crate.
“Frankie? He’s something, I tell you. A survivor. And a character at that. He really likes his tennis balls, so I’ve got a couple up front to give you. And before I forget, his stitches come out this week. His vet’s information is up front too.”
“Okay. Sure. And it’s Frankie? Was that his name?”
“It is now, unless you can think of a better one. The boys named him. We never found out jack about him. The asshole that was fighting him so hard probably never bothered to name him. He had four dead dogs dumped out behind the shed where Frankie was kept. There were two others in crates still alive. One made it and went to a woman I know over in Illinois. The other pit was humanely euthanized.”
Kelsey felt her eyes tear up. How could someone be so heartless? No, soulless. “Can I see him?” she asked, blinking back tears.
“Sure thing. For all he’s been through, he’s been a love sponge around people, which makes me think he wasn’t living in the place where he was confiscated for long.”
“Let’s hope not.”
Rather than asking her to help lower the crate as Kelsey expected, Rob pinched the door lock open and took his time clipping a leash onto Frankie’s collar. Kelsey’s emotions were stirred up from Rob’s words, so the tears stayed close to the surface as she watched the beautiful silver-blue pit bull emerge from the crate. The remarkable dog stopped calmly at the edge of the van floor, looking around the yard and blinking his eyes in the bright sun.
In the scheme of things, it hadn’t been that long since Kelsey had laid eyes upon him. The swelling on the left side of his face had gone down considerably, though with his stitches, his expression still looked stuck in a wink and a half smile.
Kelsey let out something that was between a laugh and sob. “He’s beautiful.”
“Blue-nose pits are quite beautiful, if you ask me.” Rob patted Frankie confidently atop his shoulder blades. Then, to Kelsey’s surprise, he wrapped his arms around the dog and lifted him carefully down to the ground. “Don’t want him tearing any stitches trying to jump.”
Kelsey fished through her pockets and was happy to find a few leftover treats. She sank into a squat and let Frankie approach her. Keeping the treats back for a moment—knowing Kurt wouldn’t approve of her offering a treat at the front end of a greeting—she let Frankie sniff her empty right hand. His eyes were the same silver blue as his coat and as clear, bright, and intelligent as those of any dog she’d ever met.
After a few quick sniffs, he turned his attention to her other hand, the one hiding the treats. His ears perked forward, but he waited patiently. She brought her left hand forward and let him swipe the treats off her palm. He crunched them in a few chomps, then began to lick her palm contentedly.
“I know a love connection when I see one,” Rob said, passing her the leash. “Other than keeping him clean and dry while he heals, you won’t have any problems with him. So long as you keep him out of direct contact with other dogs until he’s had considerable retraining. Maybe forever.”
Kelsey nodded. “I understand.” She pressed one hand against Frankie’s chest and scratched him gently with the tips of her fingers. “From here on out, Frankie, you get a total redo. It’s only the best for you, promise. Cozy beds, great foods, and people who love you. And how about homemade popsicles on Sundays? Beef, chicken, peanut butter, or pineapple—your choice. And I can tell you right now, that sweet face of yours is making it onto next year’s calendar. Everywhere you turn, you’re going to get nothing but love.”
Finally, Kelsey stood up. “Kurt and I set up one of the upstairs bedrooms for him,” she told Rob. “So long as he doesn’t mind stairs, he won’t have to be crated in the same room as other dogs. Once he settles in and is used to being here, we’re going to try offering him free roam of the room too. We started the same thing with Pepper, the Rottweiler, today. I’m sure you remember her. She’ll be next door to him. She’s had free roam of her room since midmorning but still went into her kennel to nap. Otherwise, she’s either been watching out the window or sitting behind the stair gate that’s blocking off the room. She seems to enjoy being around people.”
“You might be surprised how many of them do. Often in cases like this, it’s as if they don’t connect the job
they’re given with the person who cares for them.”
Kelsey was opening her mouth to reply when she realized they were no longer alone. Kurt and Patrick were back. She’d been so focused on Frankie that she hadn’t heard them approach. Kurt was watching her intently, and Patrick was fastening the buttons of his side pants pocket.
“Afternoon,” Kurt said, nodding at Rob. “That pit’s looking better already. Looks like the vet really had skills.”
Yesterday afternoon, Kurt had told Kelsey that Rob had shown him the “before” pictures that would be used in court. They were something she knew she was better off never seeing.
“Afternoon, son,” Rob said cheerfully. He pulled his phone from his pocket and glanced at the screen. “I’m doing okay on time if you’d like to show me how some of these guys are progressing.”
“Yeah, of course.” Kurt glanced at Kelsey, motioning toward Frankie. “You okay walking him around the yard a bit? Patrick, you’ll stay with her?”
Patrick glanced at his watch. “Yes. I have twenty-four minutes before I need to leave.”
Kelsey pressed her lips together as Rob’s eyes widened slightly in surprise. Clearly, he was trying to decide if Patrick was joking, even though his expression was serious.
“Perfect,” Kurt said as if that was just the answer he was looking for.
Chapter 16
There was no way around it. Each day of the rehab wound up seeming more like a week than a single day.
Kelsey fell into step behind Patrick as she walked him out for the night, a part of her wishing she could crawl into the passenger side of his old Tacoma and have him drive her home to her apartment—no, to her parents’ house and her old room and bed that were still the same as when she moved out six years ago. To shed life’s responsibilities and sleep in as late as her exhausted body craved.
Patrick scooped Orzo into his arms as they reached the truck. He’d come back out after leaving the shelter when it closed for the evening and spent an hour walking Devil around the front yard, allowing him to scent mark as he pleased.