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For a few seconds, I deliberate. Leaving work at a reasonable hour is one thing. A living, breathing animal is another. But something possesses me to reply with the animal shelter’s address. Traffic is heavy. It takes fifteen minutes to make the short trip. The exterior of the building is nondescript. If not for the small, white sign, I wouldn’t have known I’m in the right place.
A bell rings above the door as I walk inside, past the five folding chairs and a display of pamphlets on rabies and neutering. The woman behind the counter isn’t the one I met this morning.
She looks up, her brow creasing. “Can I help you?”
I stride up to the desk and clear my throat. “I’m here to adopt a dog. Goldie?”
“We close in ten minutes.”
“He’s getting sent to a kill shelter tomorrow. I’ll pay extra. Whatever it takes.”
The woman studies me as she scoops her brown hair up in a ponytail and ties it. She’s wearing a t-shirt that readsI Brake For Squirrels. I take that as a promising sign she’s not in favor of the whole kill shelter concept. A brown clipboard gets unearthed from the papers littering the desk. “Fill this out.”
I exhale, relieved. “Okay.”
The form is basic. I fill out all the sections, leaving the one on former pets blank. I hand the clipboard back, watching as the woman scans it over. “There’s a two hundred dollar adoption fee,” she informs me.
“You take donations?”
“Yes.”
I pull my checkbook out of my handbag and write a check before handing it to her. The woman’s eyebrows fly upward as she reads the amount. “Lucky dog.” Her cheeks flush, making me think she didn’t mean to say that out loud.
“Can I take him tonight?”
“Yeah. Let me grab him.”
She disappears into the back, leaving me alone in the small lobby. I panic a little, looking at all the pamphlets. I know absolutely nothing about dogs. Barking sounds from behind the door. The woman reappears, holding Goldie. She sets him down, and he bounds over to me, tail wagging.
I scoop him up, letting him lick my face. That seems to pass muster, because the woman’s expression is softer when she hands me a folder. “Here are all the papers. His medical history. Vaccination schedule. Training tips. Veterinarian suggestions. Any questions, just call here. He’s already had dinner. Feeding amounts and times are in there as well.”
I take the folder from her. “Okay. Thank you.”
“Congratulations. He’s a sweetheart. I was dreading the pickup tomorrow.”
I look down at the puppy snuggled in my arms. “Thanks.”
“I readHaute.”
When I look up, she’s smiling sheepishly.
“Before and after you bought it. It’s really impressive what you’ve done with it.”
I smile. “Thank you. That means a lot.”
Then I turn and head back outside. Eric steps out to open the door. His eyes widen as he takes in the dog, but he doesn’t comment. Just asks where the next stop is.
Goldie thoroughly explores the backseat as we drive back to the penthouse. I look through the folder, feeling overwhelmed by the amount of information. I don’t even know if Crew likes dogs. He could be allergic, for all I know.
When the elevator doors open to the penthouse, I can hear his voice coming from the kitchen. I set Goldie on the fluffy living room rug and walk down the hall.
Crew is standing at the kitchen counter, studying some papers and talking on the phone. His eyes light up when he sees me. I smile at him before I walk over to the fridge and pour myself a glass of water. On second thought, I fill a glass bowl with water too.
“Yes,” Crew says. “Send the expense reports when you can, and I’ll take a look later.” There’s a pause. “All right. Bye.”
He sighs, and then I hear him move. He drops his chin on my shoulder and kisses my neck. “Hi.”
“Hi.” Embarrassingly, my voice comes out breathy and high.
