by Dan Walsh
“I can tell he’s not an aggressive dog.”
Kim. Finley felt drawn to this woman. He came a little closer to Kim.
She leaned forward and scratched his head behind his ears. “He’s a total sweetie, aren’t you Finley?” She turned around in her chair, put her hands on the table. “Are you okay with me taking a few notes as we chat?”
“That’s fine.”
“Looks like he’s mostly golden retriever,” Kim said.
“That’s what we were told. My son brought him home as a puppy. I think he got him from here.”
“That’s possible,” Kim said.” I don’t remember him, but so many dogs come through here. Whose name was he adopted under? He’s probably in our system.”
“My son, Chaz.”
“So, let me guess…your son can’t keep him anymore, and he’s a little too much for you.”
Finley heard the mother sigh. Something had just upset her.
“I’m sorry. Did I say something wrong?”
Finley walked around the table and sat next to the mother. She was crying again.
“It’s not your fault.” She reached for a tissue from a box in the center of the table.” The mother reached down and actually patted Finley on the shoulder, then left her hand on him.
This was so unlike her. He leaned against her chair.
“You’re right. My son can’t keep him anymore. He was killed in Afghanistan a few weeks ago.”
“Oh, no. That’s terrible. I’m so sorry. I feel awful now. That was so insensitive of me.”
“No, don’t feel bad. You couldn’t know. The worst part, I think, was he was due to come home in a few weeks. All these months I was so worried about him being killed by the Taliban. But his tour was all done. He was supposed to be out of danger. He was killed in a helicopter crash.”
“Was he a pilot?”
“No, just a regular soldier. They were being transported somewhere, supposed to be away from a dangerous place to a safer one. I don’t know all the details. They don’t tell you very much when these things happen.”
“I’m so sorry, Alicia.”
“Me, too. I’ve actually been watching Finley here are for a good while, ever since Chaz left for boot camp.”
Chaz. Finley’s ears perked right up. That’s the second time she said his name.
“His girlfriend was helping me the first few months. But then she started seeing somebody else, I guess. I thought about bringing him down here so many times. It was so hard taking care of him myself. I’m not even a dog person. I was just doing it for Chaz. He sent me money every month for Finley’s expenses, and every time we’d talk on the phone, the first thing he’d ask about was Finley. How’s Finley doing? Is he eating okay? He’d even want to talk to Finley on the phone. Then before he’d hang up, he’d apologize a hundred times for me having to watch him, and he promised me he’d take him off my hands the minute he got home. So, I’d say yes and promise him I’d hold out a little longer.”
The mother turned in her chair. She was looking right at Finley. She looked so sad.
“But now,” she continued, “I can’t hold out any longer. It’s not just all the extra work to keep up with him. It’s hard to even look at him.” She looked back at Kim. “Every time I see him, I think of Chaz. I know it’s normal to be grieving now. But I’m not sure I’ll ever get over this. Somehow, having Finley around makes my loss feel even more painful. I don’t know if that makes any sense.”
“I can see why that would be a challenge,” Kim said. “It sounds like he and Chaz were very close.”
Finley kept hearing Chaz’s name. They were definitely talking about him. Was he coming here? Was that why the mother brought him to this place, to see Chaz? But why was she so sad then? The few times Chaz had come home since he’d been away, the mother was always very happy.
“Chaz absolutely adored this dog. And Finley loved him just as much. I’m afraid he hasn’t had much of a life with me, and it’s not going to get any better from here. Are you sure you can find him a home?”
“I know we can.”
“Even though he gets out of control sometimes? Looking at him now, you’d never know it. But he’s usually quite a handful.”
“Believe it or not,” Kim said, “problems like that are fairly fixable with some training. In fact, most of the reasons people give for surrendering their dogs stem from problems we can fix with training. I’m not saying that to change your mind. I perfectly understand why you’re doing this. I’m just saying the problems you’ve had with Finley aren’t serious enough to keep us from finding him a good home.”
“I’m glad. Because he is a good dog. I think it’ll ease my mind at least a little if I know he’s happy living with someone who can really take care of him.”
No one said anything a few moments.
“So what do we do now?” the mother said.
“Well, normally I would take you both down to our Intake area. But I don’t want to put you through that, or make you share this all over again with someone else. I can take care of that for you, if you want.”
“Thank you. I appreciate that.”
“Then you two stay right here for a minute. I’ll go get the paperwork and be right back.” Kim got up and left the room, closing the door behind her.
Finley waited there a few moments then walked back to the mother. She was wiping her eyes with tissues. He sat and leaned against her, but she didn’t acknowledge him.
Some time went by then the woman, Kim, returned. The mother still hadn’t touched him or said anything to Finley, so he was happy when Kim returned. She instantly spoke his name and looked right at him. When she sat, he hurried around the table to see if she would pet him, and she did. They talked for a few more minutes, while the mother filled out some papers.
After, she said, “So, is that it? Is there anything else I have to do?”
“No, that’s it,” Kim said. “I’ll take care of everything from here. We probably should put the leash back on him.”
“Can you do that?”
“Sure, I can do that. Do you want me to give you a minute or two, to be alone with him and say goodbye?”
“No, I think that would be too hard. I can tell he’ll be in good hands here with you.” She stood up and extended her hand. “Thank you so much. You made this a lot easier for me than I expected.”
They shook hands. Finley watched as the mother opened the door, walked out and closed it behind her. She never even looked at him. He didn’t understand her mood. Where was she going? What should he do now?
9
Kim
She stood in the hall a moment as Alicia walked away. Kim could tell even from the back that she was crying. This was always such an emotional time, which is one of the reasons why Kim didn’t work in the Intake area fulltime. Occasionally, she was called in to offer counseling when one of the workers believed an owner wasn’t fully committed to surrendering their dog.
People often brought their dogs to the Humane Society as a last resort, believing that their problems were insurmountable. Most dog behavior problems are fixable. And often the one who needed the most training were the owners themselves.
But Kim knew that wasn’t the case here with Finley. It broke her heart to hear Alicia’s story. A mother’s worst nightmare, losing a child. She couldn’t imagine how she’d ever get over the loss or the grief.
As Alicia left the facility through the glass exit door, Kim noticed that she never looked back. That wasn’t surprising. Finley instantly reacted to her departure, whining and stretching to the end of his leash. As she disappeared down the sidewalk, he began to pull even harder toward the door.
Kim didn’t yank him back. Instead, she tried to entice him back with some cheese and called his name in a high-pitched, happy voice. Neither trick got his attention. That wasn’t surprising, either. She knew a dog like Finley would struggle with this separation almost as much as Alicia did. Probably more. Finley couldn’t understa
nd what was going on. There was no way to tell him what had just happened, no way to help him process what he was going through.
Scientific studies had proven dogs experience intense emotions, not unlike humans. They could become very excited during happy events but also very depressed when experiencing a significant disappointment. Of course, Kim didn’t need to see scientific evidence to know this. She’d studied dog behavior long enough and had spent enough time being around dogs to know how deeply affected they could get from situations caused by their owner’s decisions and choices.
She called out Finley’s name once more and gently tugged the leash in the opposite direction. Finley resisted at first but reluctantly complied. She quickly walked down the hall toward the Intake area. The thing to do now was to get his mind on something else as quickly as possible. It wouldn’t help his disposition on a deeper level, but the temporary distraction might do a little to ease his pain.
As they walked through the door into the Intake area, Finley’s ears instantly perked up. There were two other dogs standing by the counter with their owners and one sitting in the waiting area. Kim tried not to make eye contact with any of the workers, lest they try to suck her into dealing with their situation. She really needed to get back to the A-Kennel to check on Marsha’s request, then get back to her desk and finish that training brochure.
She did notice Chuck, the Intake manager, was just finishing up with someone and heading back to his desk. “Hey Chuck, can I talk to you a minute?”
“Sure Kim, what’s up?” He turned and walked toward her. They connected at the end of the counter, away from the others. He looked down and noticed Finley. “Who do we have here? Some dog you’re working with?”
“No, at least not now. His name’s Finley.” Hearing his name, he looked up at her, so she patted his head. “He’s a new surrender. I just met with his owner a few minutes ago.”
“Really?”
“I know. That’s not something I usually do, but the woman came into the adoption area by mistake. Marsha was just going to send her over here, but then they got to talking, and I happened to walk by. It’s kind of a long story. I took some notes, so I’ll fill in the details on the paperwork myself. But I was wondering if you’d take care of him yourself. He’s kind of a special case. His real owner was a soldier killed in Afghanistan a couple of weeks ago.”
“Oh my.”
“Yeah. His mom was keeping Finley for him, for quite a while now I think. He was supposed to be coming home in a few weeks. But now that he’s not, she just doesn’t think she could take care of him anymore. She’s not really a dog person, and seeing him just—”
“Brings up the pain,” Chuck said. “I get it. You don’t want me to skip the normal intake procedures with him, do you?”
“No. Still have the team do the normal assessment they do with any dog that gets turned in. But I can already tell, it’ll just be a formality. He’s gonna pass with flying colors.”
Chuck leaned over the counter and patted Finley’s head. “Yeah, you can see, he’s got a really sweet disposition.” He opened the top to the counter and walked through. “I’ll go ahead and take him back for you. If you want, you can use my desk to finish up the paperwork. I’ve got a few things to take care of back there.”
“Thanks. I think I’ll do that.” She handed Finley’s leash to Chuck. She looked down at Finley, who seemed confused by the exchange. The poor thing. Nothing he experienced for quite a while would make any sense to him.
“So you figure,” Chuck said, “after we do his assessment we’ll just leave him in the stray kennel for twenty-four hours, then bring him over to the adoption kennel?” The stray kennel wasn’t just for stray dogs. That’s where all the dogs were brought when they first came into the facility.
“That’s what I was thinking,” Kim said. “There’s no reason to leave him over here any longer than that. There’s virtually no chance of the owner changing her mind.”
10
Amy
Brookins Correctional Facility
15 Miles west of Summerville, FL
After spending almost two years in the general population without a moment’s privacy, Amy couldn’t believe what she was seeing. It wasn’t much bigger than the cell she had lived in, but there was only one bed, and the room had its own small desk and chair. They even called the rooms dorms over here, not cells. Best of all, it had a window. “This is mine? This room, is all mine?”
“You and your dog’s, if you get one,” Rita Hampton said. Inmates called each other either by nicknames or their last names. Amy didn’t like it much but went along with it. In her head, she always used their first name. Hampton, or Rita, was showing Amy around. She was a seasoned vet in the Prison Paws & Pals program. Rita had trained over twenty dogs so far and was one of the first inmates to qualify for the program.
“If I get one?” Amy said. “I thought everyone in the program got a dog.”
“You’re right, Wallace. I should have said when. That’s where he’ll sleep, in that crate at the foot of your bed.”
Amy looked to where Rita was pointing. “He’s gotta sleep in a cage? That doesn’t seem right.”
Rita took a few steps inside the room. “We don’t call ‘em cages. They’re crates. Anyway, dogs aren’t like us. We never put them in their crate for a punishment. To them, it’s a good place. A place where they feel safe. A place all their own.”
Amy hadn’t felt safe since she’d been in prison, something she prayed about every day. But she had felt the tension in the air drop by half as soon as she came into this place. “Do you…ever feel safe? I mean here, now that you’re in this program?”
“Yeah, I do,” Rita said. “And you will too…eventually. I know what you’re going through. It was a few years ago, but I still remember. Takes a while to realize how different things are around here. You know how hard it was to get approved for this program? Every girl in here went through the same thing. And they know what it’s like out there.” She pointed toward the main prison area. “And they know if they want to stay in here, they gotta keep earning their place, keep doing the things that got them here in the first place. I’m not just talking about how well we train the dogs. I’m talking about how we treat each other, and the people who run this program.”
Amy liked the sound of this. It shouldn’t be that hard to start treating people decently again. She’d had to learn how to act like such a totally different person for so long now. Pretend to be somebody hard, somebody that wasn’t afraid all the time. It left her exhausted every day. What Rita just said sounded almost too good to be true. “You can call me Amy,” she said. “When we’re alone, I mean.”
Rita looked at her a moment.
“I don’t mean anything by it. It’s just out there I had to call everyone by their last name. In here—”
“I’m okay with that, I suppose,” Rita said. “When we’re alone. It’s Amy, right?”
Amy nodded. “Where are all the other girls, all the dogs they’re training?”
“They’re here, just outside. It’s graduation day. I think if you look out your window to the right, you can just see the edge of the tent they set up out in the yard.”
Amy walked over and looked. She saw the corner of a big white tent. Well, it was more like a tarp or a canvas pavilion. It didn’t have any walls, just a roof to block the sun. She could just make out the last few rows of chairs. The people she saw weren’t wearing prison garb. “Who are they, people here from outside? The ones getting the dogs?”
Rita came over and looked. “Some of them. Most of the dogs we train are for military vets. I can’t see any one that looks like a vet from here. They might be sitting toward the front. Those look like city or county officials. Some of them come out for graduation day. Sometimes even news people.”
“How come you’re not out there? Didn’t you train a dog this time?”
Rita walked back toward the middle of the room, stood on a little brown throw
rug and faced the doorway. Amy heard her sigh out loud.
“What’s wrong?”
“I did train a dog. Amber.”
“Did something happen to her?”
“No, she’s fine. She graduated with flying colors.”
“So why aren’t you with her out there?”
Rita turned around, forced a smile. “She’s gone. The vet I trained her for moved to Tampa. He had to leave two days ago. Amber was all ready. All the dogs really graduated last week when we finished the program. Today is just the ceremony. So me and Amber said our goodbyes on Wednesday. When Miss Bridget mentioned this morning you were coming over today, I volunteered to give you the grand tour.”
“I appreciate that.”
“I’m glad, but I didn’t do it for you.” She sighed again and looked out the window.
“Must be hard,” Amy said. “That’s one thing I wondered about, coming over here. Spending all that time with a dog, getting really close to it, then having to give it away to somebody else. Must be hard.”
“It is. I loved Amber. I loved her like…well, I never had any kids, but if I did. I’ve loved all the dogs I trained. If it were possible, I would’ve kept them. Any one of them. But it’s not possible and, to tell you the truth, I wouldn’t want to keep them shut up in here with me. They should be free, be able to go for long walks in parks, take trips in the car.”
Amy leaned up against the metal headboard of her bed. “So do you just get used to it? Swallow the pain?” That’s something she had learned to get pretty good at, living here.
“Pretty much,” Rita said. “It definitely helps getting to spend time with the military vets we give these dogs to. We overlap with them the last few weeks of our training, so they’ll know what to do with the dogs when they get home on their own. But you can really see the difference these dogs make in their lives. Some of them write you a few months later, and you just know you’re doing the right thing.” Rita looked out the window. “I think working with these dogs is the only thing I’ve ever done right in my life. Certainly since I got put in here.” She walked into the hallway. “You want to watch the rest of it?”