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Catie glanced up as we approached. “Would you look at this guy? He’s adorable.”
“That’s the dog I had in mind for you, Mr. Wilder.”
“Cal, please.” I checked out the resident of the kennel. The sign at the top read, “My Name Is Elvis.”
The dog was a vibrant ginger color, except for a white band around his muzzle, right behind his nose, and a blaze of white down his neck and chest. He had the wide snout and floppy ears of a hunting dog, but his body was smaller than a typical coonhound. His tail swished wildly from side to side, hitting one side of the cage with a metallic thwack. Catie wrapped her fingers in the wire mesh of the cage, and Elvis’s long pink tongue lashed out at them.
“Elvis is about a year old, and unfortunately, had to be rehomed when his previous family was forced to downsize. They had a cat and opted to keep her. I think it broke their hearts to leave Elvis here. This is about the happiest I’ve seen him since he arrived a couple weeks ago.”
“Weeks? How did this sweet fella not get snapped up straightaway?” Catie asked.
Elizabeth frowned. “Demand has slowed somewhat in the past few months. With inflation, people have to decide whether to put gas in their cars or buy food for their pets. Sad to say that too many pets come up on the losing side of that equation. It’s even gotten tougher for us since our costs are rising and we’re losing out on adoption fees and random donations.”
That just wasn’t right. But I accepted it as a fact of life. “Can you let him out? Let’s see him.”
“He’s a mixed breed, and as sweet as can be,” Elizabeth commented as she opened the latch.
Elvis scurried into Catie’s arms, knocking her on her butt. She laughed and hugged him, letting him lick her face. I knelt next to her, and Elvis switched his attention to me. I rubbed my hands along his back and sides, patting his rump. His tail smacked repeatedly against my knee.
Catie rested her hand on my back. “I think he likes you.”
Elvis woofed his agreement.
“I think I like him.” I could already picture him doing zoomies from the terrace to the dock and back. Or hiking with Catie and me. “I wonder if he could climb the lookout tower at Beaman?”
“I think all dogs like to climb.” Catie ran her hand over Elvis’ front leg. “He’s going to be a good-sized dog, once he grows into these bad boys.”
She wasn’t wrong. His paws certainly came from the hound in his blood. Elvis swiveled his glance and his tongue from Catie to me and back. He licked her jaw, then my cheek, then butted his head under her chin, lifting her smiling face up to meet mine.
“He likes you.” I reached out to scratch Elvis’s chest.
Catie hugged him close. “I like him. But he’s going to be your dog.” She shifted the dog into my arms. “Let’s see if he likes you as much.”
I dropped to my ass and stretched out my legs, crossing my ankles. Elvis climbed onto my lap and butted his head under my jaw. I massaged my fingers through his fur, and damn if he didn’t let out a sound that was as close to a purr as a dog can get.
“I think he likes you,” Elizabet pointed out needlessly.
“I think he does.” This might be the easiest decision I’d make all year. “What do you say, Elvis. Want to come home with me?”
Elvis woofed once, then licked my chin. Catie’s laugh held a note of delight, and Elizabeth clapped her hands again.
“I guess that’s a yes,” Elizabeth noted.
My turn to laugh. “I’m thinking that’s more of a hell yeah!”
Elvis hustled off my lap and started bird-dogging his tail in front of Catie. He stopped for a second and looked at her, then at me, and then resumed the elusive chase.
“We just have a few papers for you to sign, then he’s all yours.” Elizabeth indicated we should follow her.
Catie stood and followed Elizabeth. I followed, but Elvis did not. Behind me, he plopped onto his butt, whimpered, and let out a pained whine.
“He thinks you’re leaving him,” Elizabeth explained.
I took a knee and opened my arms. “Come on, boy.”
Elvis scrambled to his feet and danced in place, lurching forward and then shying back. His dance told me he wasn’t sure I meant it.
Catie came back to my side, laid a hand on my shoulder and squeezed. “I think he’s waiting for you to say the magic words.”
