Gaby, Lost and Found

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Gaby, Lost and Found Page 5

by Angela Cervantes


  “I’d like that,” Gaby smiled. “Gracias.”

  Gaby joined Alma at the counter.

  “Do you know that woman?” Alma asked.

  “I do now. She makes the scones.” Gaby bought an orange frosted scone and shared it with Alma. As they headed out of the café, Carolina waved to them. “She was right,” Gaby said. “The scones are good.” The girls waved back and headed to the next business.

  The next week at the shelter, Dr. Villalobos was in the middle of his story about Lulu, a Labradoodle that had been adopted two days after she was brought into the shelter, when a fire truck pulled into the shelter’s parking lot. From the front window, Gaby watched it park.

  “Everyone wanted that dog,” Dr. V. chuckled. “I thought I’d have to fight folks off with this broom.” He grabbed a broom from against the wall and raised it like a sword and lunged.

  “Um … we have visitors.” Gaby pointed toward the parking lot.

  All of the girls ran to the front door and watched three firemen in gray sweat suits jump out of the truck. Gaby smoothed her hair down.

  Alma made her way through the girls to the front door.

  “Let’s go see what’s smoking,” she said. Gaby and all of the girls followed her outside in one big, giggling, huddled mass. “Where’s the fire?” Alma yelled.

  All the girls swooned when the tallest one stepped forward and ran his hand over his cropped, dark hair. “No fire, we’re here to see about a dog,” he said. He pulled a flyer out of his pocket and handed it to Alma. All the girls gasped as if he had dropped down on one knee and proposed to Alma right there on the spot. The girls quickly named him “Hottie.”

  “Hey, they’re looking for Cinder!” Alma waved the flyer over her head. “C’mon, we’ll show her to you.” She took the fireman by the hand and led him to the backyard cages where Cinder stayed.

  Gaby rushed to open Cinder’s pen, but right away realized her mistake. The three men approached and Cinder retreated to the corner. “It’s okay, sweetie.” Cinder covered her muzzle with her paws and whimpered. Gaby squatted and gestured to the firemen to do the same. “These guys are good guys. They want to meet you. C’mon, shy girl.”

  The firemen looked at one another and frowned. Soon all the girls were calling for Cinder, but the young rottweiler wasn’t budging. The more they called for her, the more she curled into a ball. A big rottweiler ball. Gaby bit down on her bottom lip. She had to do something.

  “Maybe she isn’t ready to come home with us,” said the fireman with the gray hair and light blue eyes. Behind his back, the girls nicknamed him “Smokey.”

  His words alarmed Gaby. Of course Cinder was ready. All of the dogs were ready for a home. The girls looked back and forth at one another, desperate for ideas.

  “Alma, go grab a Frisbee,” Gaby said.

  “You’re a genius!” Alma shouted as she ran off. Her classmates shook their heads as if they were thinking, “This is not the time to be playing.” Gaby shrugged. It was worth a try. Soon a neon orange disc sailed over their heads. Hottie caught it.

  Everyone spread out. He sent it flying back to Alma.

  Just as Gaby had hoped, Cinder shot up. On all fours now, she watched the Frisbee fly past her with steady eyes. Gaby knew Cinder couldn’t resist a good game of Frisbee. Alma snapped it to the fireman that all the girls thought looked like Zac Efron’s twin. They nicknamed him “Sizzler.”

  Cinder took a few steps. Sizzler threw the Frisbee to Gaby.

  “Ready, Cinder?” Gaby shouted. Cinder squatted low and set her eyes on the orange disc. Gaby threw it. Cinder ran and jumped for it, catching it in her mouth. Everyone cheered. She galloped around before she dropped it at Gaby’s feet. The firemen knelt next to Cinder. Now, it was their time for nicknaming. They stroked her back and called her “pretty girl” and “sweetie pie.” Cinder wagged her tail and opened her mouth wide into a big goofy smile. Sizzler took Cinder’s torn ear into his hands. He winced as he examined it. The girls quieted.

  “Cinder was abused, but she’s healthy now and very sweet,” Gaby said.

  “She’s a survivor,” he said. Cinder licked him and he took her face between his hands and kissed her back. “Sounds like she’s perfect for us.”

  Gaby was so happy she felt like giving him a big kiss, but of course she didn’t. Cinder was now kissing him enough for the both of them.

  After completing their adoption paperwork, the firemen walked back to their truck with Cinder on a leash. Dr. Villalobos shook the firemen’s hands and then got down on his knees and whispered into Cinder’s ear, followed by a big hug.

  “Get a room!” Alma heckled him.

  The firemen were about to put Cinder into the truck, when Gaby yelled for them to wait. She rushed up to Hottie.

  “You promise never to chain her up?” she asked.

  “She’ll never be chained again. At the station, she’ll be free to roam,” he said. “We’re going to play Frisbee every day, and Cinder will eat steak with us.”

  Gaby handed him Cinder’s flyer. “I signed this for you.”

  “Thanks. I’ll frame it at the station.”

  As the truck pulled away with Cinder, the girls shouted farewells and blew kisses. Then it happened. Cinder stuck her head out the window and looked back at the girls. She opened her mouth wide and let her tongue roll out. All the girls pointed and squealed. For Cinder, the feeling of the wind against her face must have been as great as the first time the young pup felt the chain unclasp from her neck. She was free. She was safe. And she had a home.

  Once the fire truck was gone, Mrs. Kohler called for the girls to get back to cleaning. The girls groaned. Gaby dreaded cleaning the dog cages, but it was a messy job made easier by Dr. Villalobos’s presence. He always tagged along and shared stories about the dogs in the shelter, which gave Gaby fresh material for her profiles. She and Alma turned to head back to the dog room when a silver BMW approached.

  “OMG. That is my dad’s dream car,” Alma said.

  “Maybe they’re here to adopt,” Gaby said.

  “Hope so!”

  “What if they want to adopt Spike? You won’t be sad?”

  “Nah, he’s a crazy mutt. All my work converting him into a sane dog is so that he’ll find a home. If someone actually adopted him, I’d be like ‘Adios, crazy dog!’”

  Gaby shook her head. She wasn’t buying any of that. She’d seen the way Alma looked at Spike with tenderness and the way Spike followed her around the shelter. The whole time Gaby had been occupied with writing profiles, Alma had been falling in love with a crazy terrier that thought “stay” meant to take off like a rocket. Gaby knew he’d already taken off with Alma’s heart.

  “Oh well, back to work!” Alma threw up her hands and walked away.

  Gaby stopped and stayed. Dr. V. was still outside at the entrance watching the silver car park. A man and woman hopped out of the car and strutted up the sidewalk like supermodels. Dr. Villalobos didn’t budge, which Gaby thought was strange. He was usually so excited about any guest to the shelter. This time, he just stared down at his shoes and waited.

  From the front desk, Daisy called Gaby to help fold newsletters. The task was tedious, but better than cleaning cages, so Gaby jumped on it. Soon, the couple and Dr. V. passed the front desk. “Like I told you on the phone, she is still in the clinic recovering, but I have no problem showing her to you,” Dr. V. said. “It’s the only way to know if she truly is your cat.”

  Gaby froze midfold. Did she just hear what she thought she heard? Could it be true?

  “Something wrong with the newsletters?” Daisy asked.

  “No, no. It’s fine,” Gaby said. “I think those people were Feather’s owners.”

  Daisy rushed to the edge of the desk to catch a glimpse, but they’d already passed. “I wondered if they’d show up,” she said.

  “What do you mean?”

  “They called and said they’d lost their cat. They e-mailed a photo and everythi
ng. It was Feather. Then they never showed up and we didn’t hear from them again.” She shook her head. “Doesn’t seem to me like they’re entirely committed to getting their pet back, which I can’t understand. Feather is a beautiful cat.”

  “Aren’t they the ones that left her at a rest stop?”

  “They said she jumped out of the car when they stopped and they couldn’t find her,” Daisy said. “They had to leave her behind. Anyway, that’s their story.”

  Gaby chewed on her bottom lip. Surely Dr. V. wouldn’t release her to them. Would he?

  “Oh shoot!” Gaby exclaimed. “I left something in the dog room. I got to go. Sorry!”

  “Do what you got to do, kiddo.”

  Gaby ran to the clinic. The door was cracked open. She peeked inside and saw the woman and man in front of the cages. Dr. V. wasn’t there. As the man opened a cage and pulled out Feather, Gaby was ready to barge in and tell him to stop when the woman spoke.

  “Poor Malbec,” she said. The man handed Feather to her.

  They were Feather’s owners. Gaby moved closer. Malbec? What kind of name was that?

  Feather hung her head over the woman’s arm. Gaby knew she was no expert in animal behavior, but Feather didn’t seem happy to be found.

  The guy shrugged. “Have you forgotten that you did nothing but complain about that dumb fur ball’s hair on your clothes?”

  Gaby gasped. How dare he call Feather a dumb fur ball! Suddenly, Dr. V. was at Gaby’s side.

  “Anything interesting?”

  She jumped. “Sorry, it’s — I didn’t want to interrupt — they’re talking.”

  “Not to worry. Come on in.” Dr. V. chuckled and pushed the clinic door open. “I have some files I need you to take to Daisy.” She followed him inside. “Sorry for the wait, folks. I’ll be right with you.”

  While Dr. V. flipped through files, Gaby smiled at the couple. Feather mewed and stretched a paw toward Gaby.

  “Stop it.” The woman shoved Feather’s paw down.

  Dr. V. slammed the file cabinet drawer. “Feather’s been through a lot. Please be gentle with her.” The woman nodded with an annoyed, thin smile.

  “Her name is Malbec,” the man said. “Feather sounds like something a bunch of little girls would come up with.”

  Dr. Villalobos ignored the comment and faced Gaby. “Here you go, sweetheart.” He handed her a file. “Please take this to Daisy.”

  Before leaving, Gaby stopped and turned back to the couple. “What does Malbec mean?”

  “I’m sorry?” The man’s eyebrows rose like he was surprised Gaby could speak.

  “You called her Malbec.”

  “Oh, it’s a French wine,” the woman explained.

  “It’s Argentinean. Not French. I’ve told you a million times,” the man said.

  Dr. V. and Gaby exchanged bewildered looks.

  “Just wondering.” Gaby smiled. “I’m glad you found your cat.” The man looked at his watch and the woman looked down at Feather as if she’d forgotten she was even holding a cat. “Missed her like crazy, I bet.” Gaby winked and walked out.

  When Gaby got back to the front desk, Daisy wasn’t there. She sat down and resumed folding newsletters. Her head was still reeling from that snooty-snotty couple. The man had looked at her like, “How dare she speak to me!” And Malbec? What kind of name was that for a sweet cat? Flustered by the encounter, she dropped a bunch of newsletters onto the floor. She had bent over to pick them up when she heard the couple’s agitated voices coming down the hallway. When they stopped at the front entrance, Gaby stayed down. One run-in with them was enough.

  “I say, let him keep her. She’s so sick and scrawny looking,” said the man.

  Gaby’s mouth gaped open. If Feather looked sick and scrawny it was because they left her at a rest stop to starve. She was tempted to hurl the stapler at him, but restrained herself.

  “Don’t exaggerate,” the woman said. She threw her hands up. “I don’t care about his stupid waiting list. We’re lawyers, for god’s sake! We can sue him if he refuses to give Malbec back to us.”

  They exited the shelter. Gaby sat up and watched them drive away in their shiny silver car. She may not know about fancy French and Argentinean wines, but Gaby knew one thing for sure: That couple didn’t deserve to have Feather.

  Later that afternoon, Gaby spread out notes on her front porch. She passed a page to Alma. “It says we have to show that we are the alpha dog. What does that mean?” After the girls returned from the shelter, they had gone to the library to do research. While Alma printed dog training tips, Gaby read up on Furry Friends Animal Shelter’s adoption policy. She was disappointed to discover that there wasn’t a policy against calling a cat a dumb fur ball. If she could rewrite the policy, she’d add in big bold print that anyone who leaves their cat or dog at a rest stop should not even bother coming to Furry Friends.

  “We have to show them who the boss is,” Alma explained. “Not mean. Stern. You know, like our moms and dads are with us —” Alma stopped, but it was too late.

  Gaby turned away. “I wouldn’t know about that.”

  Alma stared down at the notes as if an answer was buried in between the tips on how to teach a dog to roll over, sit, and stay. “What do you mean you don’t know?” she finally managed to say. “Your dad may not be exactly parent material, but your mom used to be very stern with us. Remember how all of us used to fight? Your mom would walk into the room and be like ‘Alma Victoria Gomez!’ or ‘Marcos Lorenzo Beltrán!’” Alma did her best Spanish accent and pointed with her finger.

  Gaby smiled for a second. Her mom was tiny, but her voice was mighty. In English or in Spanish she knew how to get people’s attention. If her mom had been given the opportunity to get an education, Gaby thought she would have made a great school principal.

  “All your mom had to do was say our full names a certain way and we were angels,” Alma continued. “You can’t take care of crazy kids without being like an alpha dog.”

  “Especially if Marcos is one of those kids,” Gaby added.

  “Exactly!” Alma smiled, looking relieved that Gaby made a joke.

  “Did someone say my name?” Marcos wheeled up and parked his bike against the fence. Enrique followed close behind. They had on soccer shorts and white Mexico national team jerseys smudged with grass stains.

  “Let me guess — the grass won 4–0,” Alma said.

  Marcos rolled his eyes. Enrique wedged himself between Alma and Gaby.

  “Don’t I smell good?”

  Gaby pinched her nose and quickly gathered up the notes.

  Enrique grabbed at the pages. “Can I see?”

  “No. It’s none of your business.” Gaby batted his hands away and passed all the papers to Alma.

  “Why so secretive?” Enrique snatched at the notes again, but this time Alma slapped his hands down.

  Gaby mouthed, “Be the alpha.”

  Alma nodded and sat up on her knees to make herself taller than Enrique, which was a major feat because no one was taller than Enrique. In a few more years, Gaby imagined, he’d be as tall as Dr. Villalobos. Alma clutched the papers close to her chest. Enrique lunged for them.

  “Enrique Andrés Garcia! Down!” she warned.

  Enrique backed away. He looked over at Marcos for help. Marcos shrugged.

  Alma was known for tussling with Enrique, screaming at him, and causing a wild scene that ended with someone, usually Enrique, being chased around the yard. He wasn’t used to this Alma. He sat up, folded his arms across his chest, and pouted.

  “What’s the dealio? Why can’t I see your love letters?” Again, he lunged for the notes.

  “No, Enrique! Back!” Alma pointed at him and held the notes behind her back with the other hand. “Sit and stay.”

  Gaby now wished Alma could have met Feather’s owners. She was certain that Alma would have stormed into the clinic, snatched Feather from the woman’s arms, and chased them out of the shelter. Gaby
chuckled.

  After a few seconds, Enrique gave up. Alma shuffled the notes, watching him out of the corner of her eye. Enrique fidgeted with his shirt, his long socks, and his cleats, but kept his distance. Gaby shook her head in disbelief. Alma was a natural alpha dog at the shelter and in the neighborhood.

  “Good boy, Enrique!” Alma exclaimed. “Gaby, do we have a treat we can give him?”

  “I think I have a dog biscuit in my —”

  “Hey, that’s not right!” he wailed. “I prefer doggie bones.” Everybody laughed.

  “Since you’re being so good, I’ll show you the notes.” Alma spread the pages out again. Enrique moved closer while she pointed out a few instructions on rewarding pets for good behavior. “This is what I do at the shelter.”

  “What’s the point? You guys are only going to be there for a few more weeks, right? My Uncle Joe-Joe says dogs forget everything.” He tugged at his socks.

  “Maybe your Uncles Joe-Joe, Junior, and John-John don’t know everything,” Alma snapped. “The point is that the dogs have to be ready for our Barkapalooza open house. This way people will see how well trained they are and adopt them.”

  “How’s that sick cat? Is she kaput yet?” Marcos asked. Both girls responded with a glare. “What? What did I say?”

  “That sick cat’s name is Feather and no, she’s not kaput,” Gaby said. “In fact, her owners showed up today. They want her back.”

  “That’s good, isn’t it?” Marcos asked.

  “It’d be great if they weren’t self-absorbed jerks,” Gaby said.

  “Whoa! Tell us how you really feel,” Marcos quipped.

  “Don’t hold back, Gaby!” Enrique clapped.

  “Gaby overheard them talking about how they might sue the shelter if Dr. V. doesn’t release Feather to them,” Alma said.

  “They don’t deserve Feather,” Gaby said. “The man called her a dumb fur ball.”

  “We have to tell Dr. V.,” said Alma. “If we tell him what you heard he won’t give her back to them.”

  “But if Feather is their cat, they have the right to take her home,” Enrique said.

 

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