Page 59 of Call It Serendipity

His reflexes are faster than mine, wrapping one arm around my waist and reaching down with the other to catch the dog’s collar before he can lunge towards whatever set him off.

“What the…”

An unbothered meow echoes from the cement walls around us, and glancing around Jake’s shoulder, I spy a cat sitting at the end of the kennel row.

It’s Clover, an elegant tabby that clearly never learned how to feel fear. She’s licking her paw and flicking her tail and is completely undisturbed by the ensemble of canines now howling at her presence.

“I should get the little troublemaker back to her enclosure,” I murmur into the dip of Jake’s neck. “Can you put Bear in his?”

“Of course.” His words are a warm puff at the top of my head.

Pulling myself away, I quickly scoop Clover up and get her back to her favorite perch in the window of the cat room. Then I hurry back to someone who is rapidly becoming my favorite everything.

I round the corner to find Jake right where I left him—in front of Bear’s kennel. This time, though, he’s crouching down with his fingers poked through the chain link and petting the dog on the other side.

“Maybe he’s not ready for the adoption market today,” I say as I approach. “He was pretty reactive just now.”

“Would it really be a bad thing to keep him longer?” He turns and looks up at me with his disarmingly warm eyes.

“It absolutely would be.”

“Why?”

I blink at him, unsure how to answer such a seemingly futile question. “Because… I mean every animal here deserves a loving home. A real bed to curl up in overnight instead of being in this place”.

“You’re not ready to part with him. And I have a feeling that isn’t the case for every animal that has ever found their way to this rescue.”

“How do you know that?”

Jake straightens and reaches out to cup my elbow. “I’ve noticed, that’s all.”

Because he’s the kind of person that notices.

“It doesn’t matter,” I say quietly, losing my momentum. “I can’t adopt him; I can’t even foster him, which is probably what he needs—to help with more work on his reactivity.”

“Why can’t you?”

“Claire’s allergic.”

He chews the inside of his cheek and nods once, twice, three times. Then he says, “I’ll foster him.”

“You’ll what?”

“I’ll foster Bear,” he says plainly. “Starting today. Take him off the adoption roster because he’s going home with me.”

“But—”

“I’ve got the yard and I work from home here which means he’ll have company. And we already know he plays well with Charlie.”

Now it’s my turn to ask, “Why?”

His mouth curves into a grin, the crooked one that is just a little mischievous. “Maybe I just love dogs.”

I could kiss him.

I should kiss him.

“And of course you’re free to spend all your spare time with us,” he adds.