A Christmas Home: A Novel

by Gregory D Kincaid

  The first item on the list that morning was a miserable task. She’d been cast in the role of the city’s henchman. Having not tried out for the part, she wondered if she could reject it. Could she just pick up her car keys, walk out the front door, and drive away without looking back? She could picture Todd’s face, crestfallen and devastated. She shook her head, back and forth, in disbelief, in anger. It wasn’t fair.

  Hayley stood up and made the short journey across the room. She lifted the blinds and looked out the window. A hard north wind pushed against the pane and she could feel cold air seeping through the cracked glazing. The sun was rising slowly on a new day. She intentionally bit her lip, once, then again. She was a tough lady. She planned and made lists and flowcharts and still she worried. She believed in action first and emotion second. Still her eyes clouded. The first tear was small, barely perceptible, but the next ones flowed freely down her cheeks. It felt good to cry. It meant that, finally, she had broken through, reached down and touched the deep heart of the matter. She knew what she was losing. Having taken the first steps in accepting her loss, she was now ready to take the first steps to deal with it.

  She realized she was feeling overwhelmed because she was taking too much of the burden on her own shoulders and thinking it was her job to fix everything and everyone. It was too much for her—too much for anyone, really. She did not have to take this on all by herself. She could ask for help and move forward as best she could: making her to-do lists and completing each task, one by one. She picked up a clean index card and uncapped her pen. She pushed hard and allowed the ink to pool until she forced herself to write:

  1. Get help, and below that,

  2. Tell Todd.

  Hayley put the pen down. That was enough for now.

  When it came to seeking help, Laura Jordan and Doc Pelot were the first people who came to mind. Both were unpaid volunteers at the shelter and Hayley’s good friends. Although they would be upset by the news, they were good, level-headed partners in the shelter business and she could trust them to help her. She also considered calling George and Mary Ann McCray and asking them to help. As much as Todd loved his parents, she also knew him to be a young man trying to find his own space outside the sphere of his parents’ care. Getting them involved might be a betrayal of Todd’s sovereignty, a step backward for him. She decided to stick with Doc Pelot and Laura. At least for now. She checked the time. It was still a little too early to call them.

  After warming her coffee in the microwave, Hayley sat back down with her feet perched on her desk. The idea of getting some help made her feel better. She turned her focus back to Todd. She wondered why, of all the miserable tasks she was facing, telling Todd seemed the worst.

  Perhaps it was because she felt responsible for him. She had no confidence that he would survive in the work world without her guidance. She had gladly coached him the last few years, and he had willingly repaid her, with interest, by hard work and an unflinching commitment to the shelter’s animals. Todd’s talents and the shelter’s needs were a good match. She sensed that there would be no other suitable job opportunities for him in Crossing Trails.

  Ready to end her ruminating, Hayley checked her watch again. It was 7:15. She decided that it was not too early to call her eighty-two-year-old helper and the county’s long-retired veterinarian, Doc Pelot, for advice. Before dialing, she formed a picture in her mind of the man she was hoping could help her. She imagined him sitting in his old vet clinic near his home. He had turned it into his “shop” and escaped there to do all the things that annoyed his wife, like smoking his pipe to his heart’s content, playing cards with his dwindling pool of cronies, fixing them gin martinis, arguing politics, and telling them the same old jokes that kept them laughing for hours. He claimed that his vices kept him interesting, to which his wife would quickly respond, “A little too interesting.”

  Doc Pelot had known Todd and Hayley since they were both children. He was a devout animal lover and had been one of the shelter’s founders back in the 1970s. Hayley often turned to Doc Pelot when she was stuck. And she’d never been more stuck than she was that morning.

  On the third ring Doc Pelot took the pipe from his mouth, present but not lit at that early hour, and answered the phone, “Pelot.”

  “Doc, it’s Hayley.”

  “If you’re calling to tell me the shelter’s closing, don’t bother. George McCray already phoned me. It’s ridiculous. I thought all the idiots were stashed away in Washington.” His voice rose in irritation. “Now I find that a few of them have stayed home in Crossing Trails.”

  When Doc Pelot finished his rant on politicians, Hayley got to the subject of her call. “What about Todd? I’m not sure how to handle this with him.”

  Doc Pelot thought patiently and let out a long exasperated breath. “It’s going to be hard on him. I’ll get dressed and come on over to help you and Todd sort this out.”

  After she hung up, Hayley realized she was still short on concrete advice, so she decided to call the shelter’s other volunteer staffer, Laura Jordan, the nurse’s aide who worked at the Crossing Trails Wellness Center. Laura and Todd had been high school classmates, but they hadn’t truly become friends until about a year ago after Laura accidentally hit a stray dog with her car. Her first thought was to immediately call her acquaintance from school, knowing that he worked at the shelter. She was so concerned about the animal that she stopped in to visit the shelter daily. With each visit Laura grew closer to her, the young man who cared for her, and the wonderful place that found homes for lost pets.

  Ah, Gracie—what a remarkable job Todd had done with the dog, Hayley thought. The white retriever was another in a long series of foreclosure dogs, but from the beginning it had been clear that Gracie had something special to offer. With Doc Pelot’s gentle guidance, Todd and Laura had nursed the white retriever back to health one day at a time. Gracie’s recovery was miraculous. Within weeks she was fearlessly crawling over Laura and Todd like a six-week-old puppy. She was eager to please and very trainable. Todd began working with her, and soon she had a considerable repertoire of basic obedience skills.

  After two months of rehabilitation and training, the inevitable occurred. Even though she was fully recovered, Todd refused to put Gracie into the general shelter population where she could be adopted. He had other plans for her. With minimal cajoling from Todd, Laura—by now a shelter volunteer—adopted Gracie. Todd spent the ensuing months working with Gracie. Todd was always direct. He told Laura, “Some of the things you have a hard time doing, we can teach her to do for you!”

  Hayley knew that Laura did yoga every morning to help with her movement and balance. Unless her work schedule at the Wellness Center had to be adjusted, Laura and Gracie volunteered at the shelter on Friday mornings. Even at this early hour, Hayley was confident that Laura would be out of bed. She located her number in the directory on her phone and hit Dial.

  “Laura … this is Hayley … I wanted to talk to you before you came in this morning.”

  “Sure, what’s up?”

  “I’ve got some rotten news that I have to tell you and Todd. I just want you to know what’s going on here at the shelter so you have some time to think about it before you come in. Also I may need your help. Did you or your parents hear about what happened at the town hall meeting last night?”

  As Hayley communicated all the details of the prospective closing of the shelter, Laura didn’t say much in response. Instead, she leaned against the kitchen counter for support and looked down at Gracie. She thought about all the dogs whose lives had been saved over the years and all the dogs whose lives might not be saved once the shelter was closed. She could not imagine life without Gracie’s love and assistance. Laura knew that without the shelter, Gracie would not be in her life. In all likelihood the dog wouldn’t have had another chance. It would have been such a tragic waste.

  “The worst part of it for me may be telling Todd,” Hayley was saying. “And that’s
where I’m going to need your help.”

  “Don’t worry, Hayley, Todd can handle this—I’ll be there for him. We all have to get through it together. That’s the only way. I’ll get dressed and come right over.”

  WITH CHRISTMAS in tow, Todd made his way back to the shelter’s small kitchen space, hung up his coat, and put his lunch in the small refrigerator. Finding Hayley at her desk, he quickly greeted her with a question: “How do you think Christmas did last night in front of all those people?” He nodded his head excitedly up and down, answering his own question. “I thought he did great.”

  Hayley got up and moved around to the other side of her desk, where she could reach down and scratch Christmas on his gray chin. “No doubt about it. He’s a great dog, but you did great, too. It didn’t seem to bother you one bit … standing up there in front of all those people.”

  Christmas arched his back and stretched. This was his way of inviting her to extend her scratching to his entire torso. Hayley willingly complied. Christmas turned and looked up at her with green eyes that expressed nothing but gratitude.

  “Talking in front of people doesn’t bother me. Writing things down—that’s what I hate,” Todd said.

  “Todd, there is something we need to discuss this morning.”

  Before Hayley could continue, the door to the shelter opened. Laura’s voice carried well. “Hello. Todd, are you here?”

  “In the back!” he yelled.

  Doc Pelot parked his old Chrysler Imperial, which he had a habit of driving too fast, and walked in behind Gracie and Laura. He scratched the white retriever’s ears. “I like Gracie’s new vest,” Doc boomed, as they headed for Hayley’s office.

  “Thank you,” Laura said. “My parents bought it for us.”

  Todd turned to Hayley and supplied an explanation. “The new vest has a better handle on the top for Laura to grip for balance, and Laura’s mom liked the yellow-and-red warning colors better. With the red only, some people still didn’t understand that they weren’t supposed to pet Gracie when she was working.”

  Doc, Laura, and Gracie turned the corner into the office space and Hayley greeted them. “Good morning, volunteers. Thanks for coming in.”

  Doc Pelot muttered to himself.

  Hayley tried to break the awkwardness they were feeling. “Looks like the entire team is on hand this morning.” She wanted to say what she knew some of the others were thinking. How sad that we won’t be getting together for much longer.

  Todd wondered why everyone was milling about, and he was excited about showing Laura and Doc Pelot some of the newly arrived animals. He asked Hayley, “Should we get to work?”

  “Sure, but go on without me. I have some other stuff to do this morning and then I need to talk to everyone.”

  Hayley sat down at her desk while Todd led Doc Pelot and Laura along the middle aisle of the kennel space. Todd’s red Converse tennis shoes squeaked on the linoleum floor. Slightly bent over, Doc Pelot shuffled along behind the others.

  Many of the caged dogs grew excited and barked, whined, and even howled at the sight of the humans and of the two canines—Christmas and Gracie—that tagged along. Other dogs sat silent and motionless in their cages, as if they had given up.

  Laura pushed a cart of vet supplies and acted as Doc Pelot’s assistant as he gave each dog its twice-weekly checkup. Because the dogs and cats were in close proximity it was easier for disease to spread if conditions were not closely monitored. Todd would let each dog out of its cage for Doc Pelot to greet and inspect. It was in movement or lack of it that the vet could quickly surmise an animal’s health. When he was convinced each dog was in good shape, he would repeat his mantra, “No sick dog here!”

  That morning Laura noticed sadness in his voice. Try as she might, she knew she was mirroring the same sentiment each time she spoke.

  After Doc Pelot completed each brief checkup, Todd would enthusiastically ask each animal to sit or stay or otherwise respond to some basic command. Todd was in charge of exercising each dog, and he also used that time to work with every guest on basic obedience, house-training, or sometimes a special trick, as with the next dog on the tour.

  Addressing the entire group, Todd said, “This is Earl. He came in three days ago, and we’ve already given him his shots.” Todd pointed to the young brown pit bull–Lab mix with a tail wagging at the speed of light. “He’s real friendly and a good learner. I’ve already taught him one trick. He’s good at it already.” Todd removed Earl from his cage and put him in a sitting position so that the vet could give him a good going-over.

  Doc Pelot opened the dog’s mouth and peered inside. Satisfied, he made some notes on his chart and said, “No sick dog here.”

  “Watch this.” Todd got Earl’s attention and then moved his right hand in tight concentric circles as if he were feverishly whipping egg whites. Mimicking the hand motion, Earl started to spin around, chasing his tail. When Earl stopped spinning, Todd gave him a small dog treat and an enthusiastic hug. “He’s real good at spinning around and going nowhere.”

  “Then he’d make a good politician,” quipped the old vet, still aggravated by his local government and the budget woes that were about to upend the shelter. Doc Pelot noticed that Todd was looking at him curiously. He abruptly moved the entourage down the aisle. “Next!” he commanded.

  Christmas lagged behind, walking a little more slowly these days, but seemingly enjoying his duties as senior shelter dog.

  Halfway down the second aisle of cages they came upon a particularly lethargic Tibetan Terrier mix named Westin with an ugly abscess on his neck. The infection had spread, and the poor dog was very sick. Westin failed to get up when Doc Pelot tapped his walnut cane against the cage door. Todd also encouraged Westin, but the dog felt too lousy to budge.

  Crestfallen, Todd asked, “What’s wrong?”

  Doc Pelot bent down and examined the infected spot, took the smoldering old pipe from his mouth, and then reassured Todd. “Don’t worry, antibiotics will do the trick. You wait and see.”

  When the animals needed shots or their bandages changed, Doc Pelot often allowed Laura to do his work—regardless of state veterinary regulations. He pointed his cane at the dog. “Laura, please clean off a spot for me and we’ll give him a shot.” He selected the correct antibiotic on the supply cart and instructed Laura on dosing the syringe.

  Todd opened the cage door a bit wider, and Doc Pelot touched the exact spot on the dog’s neck so Laura knew where to stick the needle. Bracing herself against Gracie’s stable body for extra balance, she cleaned Westin’s neck with an alcohol-soaked cotton swab. She placed a gentle hand on the little dog to calm him, and with the other hand she jabbed the dog quickly and confidently.

  “Nice job, Laura.”

  She looked back at the vet. “Dogs are a lot easier to inject than humans.”

  “Westin will feel better in a few hours. I’ll come by and check on him again before I leave.”

  At the end of the second aisle, several guest cages were reserved for dogs that were not yet eligible for adoption. The shelter gave owners three days to claim a dog before it was moved into the general population. This waiting period also provided Hayley and Todd an opportunity to assess each dog’s health and suitability for adoption. If a dog was vicious, it would become an unfortunate exception to the shelter’s general policy against euthanasia, but such instances were very rare. Most all dogs and cats could be placed if Hayley and Todd were patient and diligent.

  Once moved from the guest cages and into the general kennel area, every dog had ninety days to find an owner. After that, different no-kill options had to be considered so that the shelter did not become inundated with unadoptable dogs.

  After he passed the guest cages, Doc Pelot took a seat in one of the chairs he had strategically placed to facilitate periodic rests. He slowly tipped into the chair like a giant tree upended, and he fixed his blue-gray eyes on the white retriever. He tapped his cane on the concrete to
gain Gracie’s attention. Gracie approached the old man with considerable dignity. She simply rested her head on his leg. He ran his long wrinkled fingers through her white coat. It felt good. The dog reminded him of why he did what he did. The old man had been around long enough to see many things come and go. Change was part of life. Knowing it didn’t make it any easier. He looked up at Todd and shook his head. He grumbled under his breath. “What a rotten deal.”

  While the others made their rounds, Hayley gathered up a pile of photographs—each a shot of a recently adopted dog and its happy new owner. For the last few holidays, she had collected an entire year of adoption photos and used them to decorate the shelter’s Christmas tree. They called it their memory tree. She thumbed through the last few placements and experienced a heavy feeling in her gut, so she put the pictures down and exited the side door to collect her thoughts. A few of the recent arrivals were running freely about the fenced yard so Hayley could see how well they interacted with other dogs. While smoking a cigarette, a habit she had unsuccessfully tried to break, Hayley looked to the horizon, hoping some answer might float across the gray winter sky, riding on the back of a distant cloud. As much as she dreaded it, she decided it was time to get the deed over with. She felt a nervous twitch in her right eyelid. It happened rarely, but she knew it as a telltale sign of avoidance and dread. She stomped the cigarette out on the ground and watched the last little wisp of smoke drift aloft. It wasn’t going to get any easier.

  She resolutely gripped the doorknob, turned it, and walked inside to join the others as they chatted with Doc Pelot in the corridor.

  Todd was the first to see her. “Hey.”

  “Hey, Todd.”

  Todd wondered if something was wrong. It seemed that Hayley had been avoiding them all morning. “How are you doing?” he asked, frowning.

  “I’m dealing with some bad news. Are you up to hearing about it?”

  “Sorta,” he answered uncomfortably, pulling Christmas closer to him, wondering how anyone could ever be in the mood to hear bad news.