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twenty-one
“What happened to the mother again?” Sunny sat on the floor, covered in gold-and-brown puppies, two asleep in her lap and one attacking her shoe. The little aggressive one had her shoelace undone and was making good work of the rubber toe on Sunny’s pink Chuck Taylor.
“Hit by a car,” Lily said. “She was in the road and the puppies were in a ditch, a few feet away, which was filling up with rain.” Lily glanced outside at the cold, gray sky. It’d been raining for two straight days, with the weather getting colder as time wore on. The gloom, along with the rush of the heater in the stuffy classrooms, had made school a six-hour challenge in not falling asleep. She’d popped home for a quick snack before heading to work to check on the new pups, who had come in last night.
Sunny stroked along one of the sleeping puppies’ ears. “What did she look like? Did they say?”
“Lab mix, maybe?”
“That explains the ears,” Pete said, quiet up until now, watching the puppies with that expert eye that told him whether or not a dog might be a good candidate for service training. “And the coloring. Maybe black Labs mixed with something? They’re all dark brown with little caramel eyebrows.”
Lily laughed as the one puppy that was awake did a flip over Sunny’s shoe and landed against her shins. “They look about six or seven weeks, don’t you think?”
“I would agree,” Pete said.
“Normally they’d be somewhat weaned, but with Mom being a stray, they were probably getting most of their food from her,” Sunny said. “Did you guys give them formula?”
“We mixed up some Esbilac,” Lily said. “Fed them right after they got here last night. Nancy said she gave them a little bit of hard and soft food mixed throughout the day. They’re all eating well, even though they’re thin and mangy. Dr. Winters just took care of them all. She left right before you got here.”
“Thanks for calling.” Pete lifted the little rascal who wouldn’t settle down and kissed him on the head. “Let’s do some tests.” He held the puppy in both hands and extended his arms. Sunny started to count to ten. When she hit number six, the puppy wiggled, then settled. He wiggled again as Sunny hit number nine. At ten, Pete set him down. The puppy immediately went after Sunny’s shoe again.
“I think we oughta call him Sneakers,” Lily said. “They can be the shoe litter. Sneakers, Boots and...” Lily squinted one eye as she watched the two snoozing in Sunny’s lap. “Wellington,” she finished. Lily shrugged as Sunny laughed. “We did find them in the rain,” Lily pointed out.
“You’re good at this, Lily,” Pete said. “Definitely working in the right job.” He knelt down and collected Sneakers again. This time he gently flipped the puppy on his back and held him there. Pete counted under his breath and Sneakers started wiggling like a turtle about four seconds in. “Sneakers is a feisty one,” he said, setting him free.
Sunny lifted a rope bone that lay near her leg and tossed it to Pete. He caught it, then dangled it in front of Sneakers’s nose. “Let’s see if you really are a Lab.” He tossed the rope bone and Sneakers immediately went after it. The puppy leaped on the bone and toppled over with it. Then he sat up and regarded the toy with a cock of his head.
“Well, he didn’t bring it back, but he sure jumped on that bone quickly,” Sunny said. At this, Wellington opened his eyes and gave a great big yawn.
“Welly is bored with talk of his brother,” Lily suggested. “He’s like, ‘I can retrieve rings around that guy.’”
Everyone laughed. Despite the ruckus, Boots kept her eyes shut. She rolled over and stretched but then lapsed right back into deep breathing. All the puppies had patchy fur and smelled like demodex after Dr. Winters had treated their mange. “Aw, bless her little heart,” Sunny said, lightly stroking her fur.
“Sunny and I will definitely take these poor orphans home.” Pete winked at his girlfriend. Sunny winked back.
Lily had always liked the army vet who turned rescue dogs into service dogs for military veterans, like he had with Trinity. Pete had a quiet, firm sort of warmth, which seemed like the makings of a good dad. Lily’s own dad, what she remembered of him, was similar in temperament, if a little on the wilder side—which, in Lily’s opinion, made for a good father, too. Pete might be like Wellington but Lily definitely remembered her dad being like Sneakers. Whenever he was home, they were always off doing something exciting, usually outdoors—hiking, sledding, playing football in the backyard or climbing trees. “Go as high as you want, Monkey,” Dad used to say. “I’ll come get you if you get stuck. Just don’t fall, or your mama will have my hide.”
“Hey, can you two watch the pups while I take out the trash?” Lily got a whiff of dog poo and remembered the bin was full and ready for the dumpster outside. “Sally will be in any minute and won’t be happy if it smells like poop in here.”
“Like you have to ask,” Sunny said. She rose up to stretch out her legs and laid Boots on the little dog bed on the floor.
Lily slipped on her rain jacket, decided against the umbrella that leaned against the wall by the back door and ducked out into the drizzly night. The cold hit her immediately, revealing the temps had dropped a lot since she got here. The sky was black, lit only by one streetlamp across the way, and the drops felt like needles against her skin. Lily heard the unmistakable pelting of ice balls against blacktop and decided this rain was definitely turning to sleet. She jogged the trash over to the dumpster, sliding a little bit, the plastic handles biting into her palms with the weight. Lily gave the trash bag a good swing, gathering momentum to toss it up and over the rim of the receptacle. Just as she was about to let go, beneath the pattering sound of the ice pelting the metal container, Lily heard something.
She dropped the trash bag and stepped closer to the dumpster, waiting. At first, she heard nothing. Lily was just about to grab the trash bag once more. Then she heard the sound again. She closed her eyes.
There it was. Something soft and primal. A low, mournful whimpering that seemed to come directly from the dumpster.
Was that...? Could it be...?
Lily slid to the edge of the dumpster and hooked her foot into a groove on the side of the tall metal bin. She grasped the edge and hauled herself up to get a peek. The bin was a huge pit of blackness, so Lily dug her phone out of her back pocket and turned on the flashlight. She shone it around the inside of the container, passing over trash bags, old wood, rotted blankets, until her light hit something that definitely shouldn’t be in there. She passed over it first and had to double back. Then she froze.
There, right inside the beam of light from Lily’s phone, was a small black, brown and white puppy. He lay on top of a black trash bag, his dark face and back blending in with his surroundings. But he had a white tail and a little white spot between his tan eyebrows that shone against the dark bag. He blinked in the bright light and went silent.
Lily stuffed her phone in her pocket and rushed back to the building, going so fast she nearly bit it on an icy patch and slammed into the back door. Both Pete and Sunny looked at her in surprise when she burst through. “I need help,” she gasped.
Pete came out in the rain with Lily while Sunny stayed with the puppies. Sally was just showing up, coming through the front door, her brows knitting in confusion, but Lily didn’t slow down to explain. “Where did you see him?” Pete was saying, following behind her. “The puppy is actually in the trash can?”
“Yes.” Lily’s throat filled with an acrid taste that made her gag. “Somebody put a puppy in the dumpster. There’s no other way he could’ve gotten in there.”
