We walk for a while, because just like before I don’t want to bring him back to that cage. I push it off as long as I can, but when he’s panting and clearly needing water, I know I can’t put it off any longer.
He sulks back into the kennel and immediately starts drinking the water, but I don’t want to leave him just yet.
“He seems to like you,” the woman, who I learned is named Gloria, says as she approaches.
“Has anyone been interested in him?”
She shakes her head. “Not unless you’re wanting to take him home.”
I sigh, looking back at Bruno who’s now curling up once again in the same spot he seems to always be.
“I don’t think I would be good enough for him.”
She’s quiet for a second. “Dogs don’t need us to be perfect. They just want to feel safe and loved.”
As much as I wish I could do that for him, it’s unfair to give him a life he’s going to continue to be sad in. Because how can I give him something I don’t even have myself?
“It’s just not a good idea,” I tell her.
“What about fostering him?”
“What does that mean?”
She brightens. “You’d take him home and care for him while he waits for his forever home in a place that’s more comfortable.”
“How can anyone meet him if he’s living at my house?”
“We still let people know about adoptable dogs that are being fostered. If they’re interested you’d bring him here to meet them.”
I’m still not sure. It seems like so many things could still go wrong. I’ve never had a dog, and I don’t know what to do with one. What if I make his life worse than it already is? What if I fail him?
But when I look over at the brown and black dog curled up, trying to be as small as possible, I know I can’t keep leaving him here like this.
“What do I need to do?”
Bruno won’t haveto spend another night alone in that kennel because he’s now in my home. He was nervous when we went to the pet store to get him the supplies he needed. Gloria offered to send me home with some, but he deserves new things that I’ll make sure goes with him whenever he gets adopted.
I’m not sure if a dog needs a memory foam bed, but that’s what I got for him. It’s actually pretty comfortable. I know because I’m sitting on it. Even as my leg protests the pressure, I keep it stretched out in front of me trying to ease the ache. It doesn’t do much, but I stay there anyway.
Bruno is looking at me, still unsure and nervous.
“I’m sorry. I don’t know what I’m doing, but I do think this bed is pretty comfortable,” I tell him, patting the mattress.
He steps forward slowly, then sits next to me. I pat his head, and he leans into me, just barely.
“We can go visit a friend tomorrow and maybe get some advice so you can be comfortable while you’re here.” I swear I feel his tail wag. It’s small and subtle, but I’ll take it as a good sign.
The next morning, I’m surprised to find that I actually got a couple of hours of sleep. When I go into the kitchen, Bruno perks up from his spot on his new bed. He already seems more relaxed here, and it makes me feel better about my somewhat impulsive decision. But today, we’re going to see Sutton, because she’ll know what I need to do with him.
He gets into my car easily, the passenger seat already coated in his fur from when I brought him home yesterday, but it doesn’t bother me like I thought it would.
Because she can’t ever seem to escape me, Bailey is pulling into her driveway, and immediately furrows her brow when she sees me as she steps out of her car.
I don’t say anything, just look at her, waiting to see if she’ll try to pick a fight with me. I hope she does. I’m dying to put her over my knee and give us both what we’re wanting. But her eyes move past me, and she looks surprised.
“Did you get a dog?”
“Not exactly.”
