A New Leash on Life

by Suzie Carr

  “You have to bring Ayla in here soon,” I said to her before she headed out of the front door. “Bring her next time.”

  She hesitated, nudging the glass door with her foot. “I’ll bring her at some point.”

  I stepped up to her, propped up her chin with my finger. “You’re not allowed back unless she’s with you.”

  She ran her fingers through my hair, lounging on my order, a tease playing out on her face. “We’ll see.”

  Several days later, when she walked in the door leading a mini version of her, I choked up, too emotional to speak. I simply opened up my arms and welcomed her with a hug. She fell into my arms like she’d known me her whole life. “Thank you for inviting me here today,” she said with a sunny voice that matched Chloe. She was every bit as adorable as I pictured, long, black hair that hung in loose waves to the middle of her back, big brown eyes shaped like almonds, skinny arms and legs and a smile that stretched beyond her face and engulfed her entire being.

  “I’m so happy you could join us. I’ve got so much to show you,” I said.

  She beamed up at her mom. “Can I see General?”

  “You have to ask Dr. Olivia.” Chloe swung her glance my way.

  I reached for her timid hand and led the way. “So, I hear you like to ride horses.”

  “I’ve got one. Her name is Trixie. She’s an American Quarter Horse.”

  We walked through the kennel door and were hit with the sweet echo of excited dogs.

  Ayla giggled and her mouth drew open wide. “Trixie would hate it in here.” She let go of my hand and opened her arms up wide and spun. “But, I love it.” She darted off down one of the rows, her black hair flapping around like a horse’s mane. “Oh, my gosh, look at all of these cute babies.” She bent down in front of Tiger’s gate and he greeted her with a romp and a wag.

  “You should feel special,” I said. “It took me all day to get a wag from him when he first arrived.

  “So, he lives here?” She placed the back of her hand up to the gate and he sniffed her out, wagged his tail more excitedly.

  “Yup, just like the rest of them.”

  She rose. “Can I walk one of them?”

  Chloe placed a hand on her daughter’s shoulder, pulling her back. “Ayla, I don’t know if—”

  “Of course you can,” I said, jumping in and rescuing her from a fearful mom. I arched my eye at Chloe, “Maybe not Tiger because he’s just eaten, but maybe another one.”

  Ayla walked onwards and Chloe tapped my arm and mouthed a thank you.

  I lingered on her gaze a moment longer than I probably should’ve and then galloped after Ayla. She landed in front of General’s kennel. He slept, snoring on his bed.

  “Oh,” Ayla whispered. “He is so adorable.” Her voice rolled out affectionately.

  “Do you want to sit with him?”

  She nodded. “Hey big guy,” she said, tapping on his gate. She tapped again. “Hey big sweetie.”

  “Honey,” I said, unlocking his gate. “He’s not going to hear you. He’s deaf.”

  “Aw. Poor thing. How did that happen?”

  “He was probably born that way. It doesn’t bother him any. He doesn’t know any different.”

  I opened the gate and Ayla tiptoed over to him anyway.

  I trailed her and sat down first. “With a deaf dog, you want to approach carefully so you don’t scare him.” I placed my hand on his back and he snorted, opened his eyes halfway and stared up at me with his usual red, inebriated expression. His cuteness warmed me. He wagged his tail, and in his typical mellow mode, remained sprawled out on his pillow. His whole body wriggled as he stretched his head up, snorted some more and kissed Ayla’s face.

  She knelt forward and let him shower her with doggie kisses and she giggled.

  “Ayla, meet General, the shelter’s official friendliest resident.”

  I stood up beside Chloe and we watched as the two morphed into a bubble of joy together.

  Ayla spent two hours with General. She brushed him, fed him treats, held his water bowl as he lapped up water, took him on a walk around the fenced yard, and pet him as he laid his head on her lap and snored off into a gentle nap.

  Hours later, long after they left, I soaked in a tub with a glass of wine and reflected back on how perfect a day it had been. I had been afraid of the day I would actually meet her daughter, afraid that it would conjure up jealousy and hurt. Instead, she jolted me with joy. She took to General like a perfect angel, caring for him, petting him, and talking with him. She understood dogs in a way most kids her age couldn’t. She reminded me a lot of myself at her age.

  I rested my head back on the bath pillow, grateful to have met such a wonderful little girl with such a candid, giving heart.

  ~ ~

  Chloe had helped us hire two new vet techs, three handlers, and six rotating volunteers. We still lacked for a permanent, friendly receptionist. This person needed to handle the range of emotions required to deal with the drop-offs, the line of questioning that drop-offs involved, the greeting of potential adopters and the ability to educate them on our process in a friendly, non-assuming way, and the paperwork.

  Chloe had sifted through two dozen applicants and only one stood out. She arranged for the candidate to come in early the following Saturday morning. I sat in front of my office computer, sending Jacqueline another Facebook message at the request of a curious Melanie, when Chloe announced the girl had arrived for her interview.

  “I’ll be right there. I’m trying to get Melanie’s ex to respond to me. Melanie’s hounding me about it, but the lady hasn’t posted any activity for six months now.”

  “Jacqueline LaFleur,” Chloe mimicked her name like it was an exotic, rare flower.

  “How do you remember her name?”

  “It’s beautiful. It reminds me of Victorian times. If I ever write a book, I’m going to name my lead character after her.”

  I shook my head, signed my named and sent off the message to the elusive Jacqueline LaFleur.”

  I walked out of my office, past the kennels, and up to a spot just in front of the door to where I could peek at the candidate through the window. The girl sat tall in the waiting room chair, her hands folded up nicely in her lap and her hair gathered in a neat ponytail at the nape of her slender neck. She couldn’t have been more than twenty. She wore a smile. Read the literature. Crossed her feet at her ankles. She’d probably answer all of my questions with a nod and a smile, dotting her great comebacks and can-do attitude with an intelligence that mirrored NASA scientists.

  “She’s perfect for the receptionist spot,” I said.

  Chloe planted next to me, her arm resting against mine. She peeked at her through the kennel door window. “Easy does it.” She trailed her finger down my arm. “Not everyone is beautiful and intelligent.”

  My chest twirled.

  “Well,” I said, backing away. “I can tell a winner from a loser.”

  “Tell me your method.” She leaned in, whispering. “How do you determine from under the beauty if she’s the real deal or not?”

  Her light fragrance danced in my head. “It’s not like I have a system. It’s just an instinct thing.”

  “Okay, but how can you know for sure if this girl is someone who possesses the right traits just by asking a few pointed questions about her past jobs and what she studied in school and how she sees herself in five years? Do you really think a person’s true colors come out in that process?” Her eyes sparkled and her finger circled my wrist.

  “I’m guessing not.”

  “A person’s true colors come out when no one is looking.”

  “Enlighten me.”

  Her lip curled up into a sneaky smile. “Follow me to the desk. But, under no circumstances are you to pay any attention to me. Just go directly to the desk and sit down. Pretend to call someone.”

  I walked out with her and pointed myself towards the desk. I picked up the phone and pretended as instructed. Chloe
meanwhile, read a stack of medical records she had just plucked up from the front desk. As she rounded the edge of the counter, she tripped. I popped up. She shot me a look that told me to back away. So, I did.

  The medical records had flown all around her, landing in a scatter at her feet. She knelt down and giggled over her clumsiness. The girl giggled along with her and continued to sit in her chair, propped like a statue, watching as Chloe picked up paper after paper with her pretty long fingers, the same fingers that just tickled my core.

  Once she gathered all of the paperwork, she stood up and faced the girl. “Sarah is it?”

  The girl stood up and smiled broadly. “Yes, that’s right. I’m here to interview for the receptionist position.”

  “Yeah, about that. You can go now. This isn’t going to work out.”

  The girl’s smile faded. “What do you mean?”

  “You’re the last person I’d hire to be a helpful receptionist.” She pointed towards the door. “Sorry.”

  The girl stood, pointed her head down and walked out of the door.

  Chloe faced me with eyes wide open. “Well?” she asked, her face beaming.

  She looked so darn cute and happy with herself. “Have fun setting up more of these.” I tapped her shoulder and bounded for the cat room.

  ~ ~

  Josh asked about Chloe again on his latest Tuesday visit. “Does she ever mention me?”

  “Why would she?” I sipped some beer.

  “I don’t know.” He shrugged. “I figure at some point she might, that’s all.”

  “She’s preoccupied getting my shelter fully staffed and comfy.” I dangled my feet on top of my banister.

  “Cigarette?” he handed me his pack.

  I stole one and lit it. I only smoked with Josh. In a strange, unhealthy way, it bonded us. His wife had no clue and neither did anyone in my life.

  He lit his cigarette and propped his feet up, too. “How’s her boyfriend?”

  I stared out over the horizon, inhaling, trying to picture what kind of a man she’d be with. Tall? Short? Sporty? Businessman? “She never brings him up.”

  “So things are friendly between you both?”

  “I guess.” I drew another drag. I’d always been honest with him. “I have to say, the more I see her, the more I miss her when I don’t.”

  “Be careful with that.”

  “Sometimes I think she feels the same way.”

  He stared out at the stars. “I don’t understand how a bisexual can be happy choosing a man over a woman or vice versa.”

  “Melanie says when it’s love, it doesn’t matter. Love apparently sees no gender.”

  He inhaled and laughed on the exhale. “Whatever.”

  “She introduced me to her daughter last week.”

  He dropped his feet and sat up tall. “What?”

  He looked about ready to throw up.

  “I told her to bring her by the shelter. I wanted to meet her.”

  “Why?” Panic stretched across his stubble.

  “Why wouldn’t I?”

  “Hell, I don’t know.” He sat back, resting his elbow on the arm chair. His cigarette shook. “What was she like?”

  “A mini Chloe.”

  He drew one last drag, flicked his cigarette over the edge to the fountain below and stood up. “Listen, I have to go.”

  ~ ~

  The next day, as I checked my Facebook for a message from Jacqueline, Trevor handed me an envelope. “She’s up to it again, I guess.”

  I opened it and stared at a check for five thousand dollars made out to the Clark Family Shelter. A typewritten note read, ‘To Whom It May Concern: This check represents a portion of my business proceeds and serves as a donation to use however you see fit. I am committed to donating this amount to your shelter monthly because what you are doing is absolutely selfless and necessary. Yours truly, a fellow animal advocate.’

  I tossed it down and picked up my phone. She barely said hello before I laid in to her. “Under no circumstances are you doing this to me again.”

  Melanie cleared her throat. “What are you talking about?”

  “I’m looking at your foolish attempt to ruin your financial life again and it’s not necessary. So, really, five thousand dollars? Where is that coming from?”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about. Breathe and start from the beginning.”

  “You didn’t mail me a check for five grand?”

  “I don’t have one grand. Where would I get five?”

  “Who the heck is sending me five grand, then?”

  “Maybe someone who saw the news segment?”

  “Maybe.” I lingered on this thought, comforted by it. Every dollar helped. Especially five thousand of them.

  ~ ~

  Chloe helped me bathe a white pit bull named Bumblelina. Mid scrub I asked her, “Did you send me a donation for five grand?”

  “Someone sent you five grand?”

  “So, you’re saying it wasn’t you?”

  “Can’t claim that one.”

  The bubbles rose above Bumblelina’s belly, continuing to inflate. They threatened to overrun the basin. “I’ve got to call the plumber,” I said to Chloe. “I keep forgetting.”

  Bumblelina shook out her bubbles, drenching us. Chloe backed up and laughed. That’s when Bumblelina attempted to climb out of the tub. Chloe quickly jumped to the rescue and secured her in the foot of soapy water that smelled like a bowl of passion fruit, mango, and papaya.

  “Once we’re done with her, I’m going to take a look at the drain,” Chloe said.

  “I’ve already done that. I’ve poured gallons of liquid plumber into it. I’ve reached into it with a screwdriver and pulled out some gunk, but still, it clogs.”

  “Which one of us grew up with a drunk stepfather incapable of anything more than fucking himself over and over again in front of the television set?” She swiped her hand down Bumblelina’s back, releasing another round of suds and water into the tub.

  I reached in front of her to wipe suds from Bumblelina’s mouth. Chloe tugged at my ponytail and snuggled in closer to me. “You’re very cute in suds.”

  I plucked up a pile of bubbles and plopped some on her nose. “So are you.”

  We stopped bathing Bumblelina and stared into each other’s eyes, gazing past the suds and into that forbidden place. She touched my cheek with her soapy hand. I closed my eyes and drank up her feathery touch, drawing my hand on top of hers and caressing it.

  “Why does this have to be so difficult?” I asked her.

  She blinked, long and thoughtfully and then Bumblelina shook, spraying us in soapy water. We both jumped back and broke out into a fit of laughter, bent over at our knees, clinging to the light-hearted gift of distraction.

  A few minutes later, and a whole lot more dazed and drenched, we managed to complete Bumblelina’s bath. Eventually, the suds and water receded. We bounced right back into our platonic roles. Chloe insisted on tackling the issue, and I stood back and let her. I walked away leaving her to work. I snuck a look back at her every few minutes and watched as she knelt below the big basin, her toned arms reaching above her, her butt resting nicely in the crook of her ankles, and her tongue sticking out the side of her mouth. She looked adorable and I wrestled to steer my gaze away from her.

  A few minutes later, she called me back to her. She ran the water and it flowed right down the drain. No clog. No suds. Just flowing water. “First pickup trucks, now clogged drains. What can’t you fix?”

  She arched her eye up and clicked her tongue. “More than I’d care to explain.” As she passed me, she tapped my lower back.

  I wanted more.

  “Hey,” I called out to her. “Care to help me give Fido his shot?”

  She waved me forward. “After you.”

  “It’s not going to be easy.”

  “I don’t care,” she said, walking by my side towards Fido’s kennel, our arms brushing softly.

 
A few minutes later, Chloe braced herself over Fido as I stuck the needle filled with antibiotic through his tough fur and under his skin. He squirmed and Chloe pressed all of her one hundred and twenty pound frame on top of him, cooing and stroking his head. He didn’t like this and snapped at her. She jumped off just as I removed the needle. “I don’t get it. All Trevor has to do is play with his scruff and Fido melts like a lovesick hopeless romantic.” Her eyes watered up as if taking Fido’s behavior personally.

  “Don’t you dare start crying on me,” I said, watching her chin quiver and her eyes start to brim with moisture. “I warned you this wouldn’t be easy. Yet,” I circled around her, closer than necessary, to get a treat for Fido. “You still wanted to come in here with me.”

  She moaned and toyed with the string to my lab coat. “I love shots. How could I resist?”

  I wanted to flirt. I wanted to enjoy her heat. I wanted to be wrapped up in her arms. I leaned in closer to her, breathing her air. “You’re playing with me now.”

  “You must be mixing up my signals.” She chuckled and pulled away. She reached into the treat jar and plucked one out. “I just want the dogs to like me. I’m starting to get a complex.”

  “Show it to him with your palm open, and let him take it when he’s ready.”

  She waited to breathe while Fido’s large snout sniffed her hand and moved in for the treat. She giggled at his touch. “See I’m not going to bite you, you big, silly thing you.” She patted the top of his head and he pulled away.

  I moved in to Fido and petted the underneath of his neck. “Most dogs don’t like to be petted on the head. They much prefer under the scruff.” I opened my stance and welcomed her into my and Fido’s bonding moment. “Try.” I rested my hand on the small of her back as she attempted my move. With great care, she circled her fingers against his scruff and he raised his head and relaxed his tail a bit.

  “See!”

  “Ah,” she said so low I barely missed it. She leaned back against my hand and I left it there, cradling her in the bond, not wanting to let go of her and this innocent opportunity to be close to her without worrying of a mixed signal.

  “Remember the time we pet-sat Mr. Mercer’s cat and she spent the entire time clawing at our ankles?” she asked.