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“Hey, little guys. Look at you, huh?” I reach in and wait for one to sniff my hand. A little white pup with a gray splotch over its eye is the lucky winner. I pick him up and cuddle him to my chest. “Goodness gracious, why are you so darn cute?”
The issue with puppies is that they’re way more work than kittens. And the work is way more heartbreaking. They’re so much more emotional, expressive, and needy.
Sounds familiar.
The shelter is at capacity. In fact, it’s over capacity. I took in a senior border collie that was surrendered this morning. Freckles’ mom is being moved into memory care and no one can take in the poor pup. How am I going to say no to that?
And now this. Puppies. Lucky for me, puppies go fast, but still. Five more teeny mouths to feed and not enough hands to hold the bottles.
The puppy in my hands is straining to kiss my chin. I giggle and bring him higher so he can reach my face. “Dammit, what do I do with you?”
Animals have always taken a liking to me, and me to them. They’re much less complicated than people, even though we don’t speak the same languages. That’s why I have two dogs at home: Herbie and Otis. And as much as I’d like to take this little guy home, too, I just can’t add another animal to my current menagerie.
“We don’t have room, Stella.”
I look up at Maurice. Maurice is retired but volunteers at the shelter every day. We’ve become good friends over the last couple of years I’ve been managing the shelter. He keeps me grounded. “But look at him,” I say, holding the little puppy up to Maurice. “Don’t you think Rita would love this little guy?”
“You’re not pawning another dog off on me, I swear to god, Stella…” he replies, crossing his arms over his chest. However, not even he is immune to puppy kisses, and soon enough, the puppy has wriggled right into Maurice’s embrace and he’s laughing like he’s a little kid. “Seriously, Stella, I can’t take another dog. We already have three!”
“Could you just take them home for the night? And then I can think of a plan for tomorrow?” I ask, slowly sliding the box of squeaking pups toward him.
Maurice peers into the box. “Fine,” he says with a gruff sigh and then looks at the gray-spotted puppy, “You’re lucky you’re cute.”
One more fire I can put off until tomorrow. That’s all this job has been since I started. I never have enough. Funding, volunteers,space. When I have to turn animals away, I’m devastated. I’ve tried to get a thicker skin, but how can you when you’re potentially dooming an innocent creature to a kill shelter?
For tonight, though, the puppies and Freckles are safe. As soon as Maurice finishes up his closing duties, I’m left alone with the animals. Just past six in the evening. At the shelter, it’s never quiet. Always someone scurrying or sighing. Just the way I like it. I do my rounds, saying bye to the animals. My pups, both former shelter dogs themselves, are waiting for me. It’s time to close up shop for today and head home to a nice plate of leftovers and crap TV. Maybe a bath if I –
I hear the beep of the front door opening. Shit. I didn’t lock up yet.
I rush out into the front office, shouting, “Sorry, we’re closed!” but stop short when I see it’s my brother. “Colin, what are you doing here?”
Colin frowns and jerks his thumb out toward his car. “We’re having dinner tonight?”
I blink and shake my head like it’s an Etch-A-Sketch in an effort to jog my memory. “Oh god. Yeah. That’s tonight, isn’t it?”
“You forgot again?” Colin asks with a knowing smile.
“I…” I trail off.
He sighs, “Stella, seriously, we need to get you a calendar.”
“I have a calendar; I just never use it!”
“Okay, we need to teach you to use a calendar,” my older brother teases.
I feel like a complete asshole for forgetting. I’m standing here in ripped jeans, covered in pet hair and slobber, and my brother is still in the suit he wore to the office today. “I can’t believe you wear full suits in this heat,” I say with a shake of my head.
“Well, next time, you can come to the Village and meetmefor dinner. I’ll wear shorts and a T-shirt, and you won’t even recognize me.”
I laugh.
“So did I drive out here for nothing, or…”
“No, of course not.” No way I made my brother take the ferry to New Jersey just to be sent packing. “Give me a minute and I’ll meet you at the car.”
“Okay, starting the timer now,” he says as he backs out the front door.
I roll my eyes, but I can’t ignore a challenge like that. I rush around, finishing my closing routine, the final goodbyes to the animals, and then sprint to his Tesla in the parking lot. I throw myself inside and say breathlessly, “How’d I do?”
