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“See any you like?”
“No.” All of them are either too small, too well groomed, or too scary to be deemed appropriate.
A dog barks from the farthest cage.
“What’s that?”
“That pen is reserved for the dog being prepped for euthanasia. He’s probably a bit anxious about being separated from everyone else.”
“You plan on killing him?
“We don’t have enough room or money to house all of them, so once they reach a certain amount of time pending adoption… You know.”
Jesus. I take a step toward the final cage. Two dark eyes look up at me, barely observable from behind a mop of white and gray hair covering him.
“What breed is this? Polar bear?”
She comes over and checks the nameplate. “They think he’s an Old English Sheepdog. Hard to tell without DNA testing.”
He looks old all right. Based on the card, his estimated date of birth was more than five years ago. That’s practically ancient in dog years.
“Can you let him out?”
“Are you sure? He’s a bit…restless.” With the way her eyes keep darting around the room, one would think she requires some kind of taser wand to handle a dog.
“Just open it up.”
She shrugs before unlocking the cage. The dog barrels out like a bullet before slamming into me. I try to catch myself but end up falling flat on my ass as the dog licks my entire face from chin to hairline. It’s absolutely repulsive, yet I can’t help laughing when he repeats the gesture on the other side of my face, leaving no area unlicked.
“This one is being put down tomorrow?”
“First thing in the morning.”
The dog whimpers as if he can understand the conversation. He takes a seat on my lap like a small dog, only to crush my cock beneath his weight.
I push him off me and stand. “No one wanted to adopt him?”
“Nope.” She reviews his card again. “Oh, look. He suffers from abandonment issues and doesn’t like being left alone for more than a few hours at a time. If he is, he might tear into your favorite couch or pee on your rug.”
Great. Mystery solved.
He blinks up at me like he silently promises to be on his best behavior. I’m having a hard time believing him based on the way he drools all over my shoes like he wants to make them his new favorite chew toy.
“I think that’s the closest thing I’m going to get to separation issues.”
“So, you’ll take him?”
“Sure. Get me the paperwork.”
I’m now the proud father of a clingy dog who will most likely destroy my home before Iris ever has a chance to come back to it.
Perfect. Just perfect.
* * *
The next day, I show up to work with the dog who has yet to be named. After he destroyed my favorite loafer while I was out on my evening run, he can’t be trusted around nice things. Bringing him to the office is a temporary solution. One I need to fix soon once I find the appropriate doggy day care to train him.
“What is that?” Cal stops by my office door.
