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Clara is chewing at her lip as her enthusiasm dissipates by the second. “Is it just this room? Or…”
The clerk sighs. “Look. I’m gonna be honest with ya. I wish we had a bigger space. Hell, I wish we had a bigger budget. But it is what it is, and what you see is all we’re able to do with the limited resources we have.”
I grab Clara’s elbow. “We’ll look around. Come on, Will—” I glance down… but Willow is not there.
Shit.
Clara shares my panicked expression and we both immediately scan the shelter for her. “Willow? Honey?”
The clerk slides off her stool, then swiftly curses under her breath and rushes down one of the narrow aisles. “Gosh dammit! This is supposed to be closed!”
My heart slams inside my ribcage. “What? What’s wrong? Willow?”
“Willow!” Clara calls, her voice pitching with panic.
We follow the clerk to where a kennel door is wide open, the latch lifted. She claps a hand over her mouth to stifle the yelp of surprise—then looks over at us, worry etched all over her face.
Fuck. No. Willow!
I practically bowl the clerk over to look inside the kennel.
Willow’s sitting there, giggling, on the receiving end of a very thorough, loving bath of dog kisses straight to the face.
The thing ishuge. Pitch black, without a single spot of color anywhere on its sleek fur. Its eyes glint golden brown and I immediately know I’d hate to run into this thing in the middle of the night without warning.
For its part, the dog definitely looks like it’s run into more than a few dangerous things in its lifetime. Scars mar an otherwise muscular body, with one ugly, knotted gash striped down the left side of its face and narrowly missing the golden eye. Its right flank looks like something tried to take a chomp out—failed, but still tried.
The clerk slowly shakes her head. “I don’t… I am so sorry. I don’t know how she got in here.”
Clara grips my arm. She’s forcing a smile for her daughter, who is just having the time of her life, but I can feel her nervous terror through my shirt. “What’s, ah, his story?”
The clerk scratches her arm and shakes her head again. “One of our marked ones.She, by the way. And she’s scheduled to be put down tomorrow.”
“Why?” I ask at the same time as Clara.
“Too violent. Too aggressive. Was a fighting dog, one of those rescues I was telling you about. But no one could rehabilitate her to the point where she was ready for… a family.” Her voice drops off in confusion as she watches Willow whisper into the dog’s ear, giggle, and receive a few more gentle licks. “I don’t… I mean, we had another family in here just the other day. Scared the kid so bad, he peed himself.”
Clara stifles a nervous hiccup. “Willow? Honey? Don’t you want to take a look at the other doggies?”
Willow smiles and kisses the dog’s face. “No, I’m good! I want this one.”
Even I’m sweating under the collar. “She’s a bit violent, isn’t she?”
“No. She likes kisses and hugs and I’m gonna show her all my new bears and dolls.”
And without any preamble, Willow crawls out of the kennel, the dog following closely behind.
This thing looks like it could eat Willow for a snack. And yet…and yet… here it sits, patiently waiting for Willow to pick out a collar and leash.
She decides against all of the ones on display and instead opts for a harness set, quietly promising her new friend that she “won’t hurt her neck” and waiting for the dog to either approve or reject the color choice.
It licks her face.Approved.
Clara looks to me for help, but what the hell am I supposed to do? The poor thing was scheduled for execution tomorrow. I’d feel like shit if we tore Willow away and sent this dog to its doom.
So I pull out my wallet and turn to the clerk. “How much?”
Clara hasn’t spoken a single word since we left the shelter. Willow, on the other hand, keeps cooing and talking to her new best friend, who she has declared shall be named “Princess.”
