Monty did a cute little dance for me, throwing his head back and forth and spinning in place. I kneeled to pet him.
“Not yet,” Harrison grumbled. “I don’t get it. He’s fully potty trained, he walks beautifully on the leash, he’s good with kids, cats, and other dogs. His former owner said he’s a total couch potato. And I’ve offered to cover the cost of his insulin and other medications for the rest of his life, so what’s the problem?”
I shrugged and watched the sweet pup stare at the people walking by him. “Adopters want what they want, unfortunately. Black dogs and cats are the toughest to adopt out.”
“Ridiculous and infuriating,” Harrison sighed.
He seemed pent up, and I knew it wasn’t just because of his bad-luck friend at the end of the leash.
“Hey, why don’t we stroll a bit?” I suggested. “Might be good for both of you to stretch your legs.”
“But what if we miss someone?” Harrison gestured toward the few people still milling around the parking lot.
I pulled out my phone to check the time. “We need to start shutting down soon. We don’t want to piss off the building owner by overstaying our welcome. It’s fine, Harrison, let’s walk. I’ll get some cute shots of Monty and make a point to highlighthim in our coverage of the event. A hard-luck story always brings the views. Maybe someone who couldn’t make it today will see the pics and fall in love.”
He sighed again. “Okay, let’s go.”
Monty grinned and panted like we were heading out for a hike at a nature preserve instead of navigating a city sidewalk with cars speeding by.
The two of them moved in tandem, like walking together was already their thing. Monty stayed close to Harrison’s calf and glanced up at him every so often. I paused to let them move in front of me and snapped a photo of them from behind.
“You know, the answer is right there,” I said. “For Monty’s happily ever after.”
He frowned at me. “What do you mean?”
“He’s in love with you, Harrison. How can you not see it? You’re his person, you just need to open your eyes to it.”
He made an incredulous huff. “Me? No, this guy loves everyone equally. Right, bud? You’re a big softie, aren’t you?”
Harrison looked down at the dog, and Monty wagged his tail so hard his entire body swayed.
“You could do this,” I insisted.
“But he’s sick,” Harrison said in a strained voice. “He needs dedicated attention.”
“Attention that you’re fully equipped to either provide yourself or pay someone to handle,” I said gently. “Canine diabetes is manageable.”
“Not possible for me,” Harrison said with a firm head shake. “I don’t have the bandwidth to take on a sick dog. No way.”
I flinched at his tone.
“Well okay, then.”
I knew the best response was to leave it alone, but I couldn’t resist pushing a little.
“It’s probably going to be super sad when you have to put him back in his cage at the shelter. He’ll be all alone. Poor guy.”
Harrison let out a strained sigh. “Yup. Sucks. Life’s hard.”
He looked down at Monty as the dog grinned and wiggled his way down the sidewalk.
Harrison was making a mistake, and the only one who didn’t see it was him.
I could hardly believe I was here.
My time with Ashford was speeding to an end, which was why I was meeting with a leasing agent in an impressive shiny building. To talk about available space.
For my new crisis PR agency.
