“Yes, they’re all rescues at the shelter.What size?”
“Don’t really care.”Wait, yes she did.A Saint Bernard or Wolfhound-size dog wasn’t a good idea in her little house.Or car.“Not huge.”She eyed the three little things at Mae’s ankles, staring up at her eagerly.
Mix-breed mutts, their tails going a million miles an hour.And there were also three formerly stray cats somewhere around the property.Mae had caught them, had them fixed, tamed them, and now they reigned over their new kingdom like they owned the place.
“But preferably a bit bigger than yours.No offense.”
Mae nodded.“Age preference?”
“Not a puppy.”Too much work.She didn’t want something she would have to housetrain from scratch or would be likely to chew up her house and art supplies if left unsupervised.
“What about a senior?”
She blinked, not having considered that.A senior would theoretically be more mellow and less work than a young dog.Wouldn’t need a ton of exercise.That actually might be a better fit for her lifestyle overall.
“If it’s a good fit, I’d be okay with that.”
“Great.There’s actually one I know about that might work.A man a few streets down the hill died a month ago, and his dog was taken to the shelter.Rufus is some kind of a shepherd mix, medium-sized, around forty pounds.Eight or nine years old maybe.Something like that.He wasn’t really a pet as far as you and I would call it.More of an...independent, part-time companion.”
That sounded...a little concerning.“What do you mean?”
“His owner fed him and took him to the vet if he got sick, but Rufus lived in the backyard or on the front porch.He wandered around the neighborhood and around town at will on his own, and when they did go on walks together, he didn’t wear a leash.So he’s an independent dog, not used to living in a home.”
Willow frowned.She’d been hoping for more of a cuddly house companion, but wouldn’t automatically rule a dog out just because it was independent.“Is he friendly?”
“More than he should be, given that he was left to his own devices so often.He’s not aggressive with dogs or people.Kids, I’m not sure about, but we’ll have to assume he isn’t a fan.With Rufus you have to earn his trust, and then he’s a doll.”
The adult and dog tolerance were a relief.She could work with that.“And no one would take him?”Poor thing, losing his owner and home and being dumped in a shelter after living a life full of freedom for so long.
“No one.I would have, but my three can be a bit of a handful at the best of times, and they don’t like bigger dogs.So, whaddya think?Want to go meet him?”
She absolutely hated the thought of a senior dog sitting in a shelter after having a home all its life.Even if that home wasn’t the kind she thought a dog should have.“Okay.Are you free later?—”
“Just let me get my purse.”Mae turned away and shooed her dogs back.“Meet you at your place in a minute.”
Oh.Okay then, she thought, staring at the shut door.Now was fine.Now was better, actually.
Willow walked back to her driveway and got in the car.Mae appeared in the rearview mirror a minute later with her trademark bouncy, determined strides as she came up the road in those colorful gardening boots.
She slid into the passenger seat and shut the door, beaming at Willow, the brim of her straw sunhat pulled low over her forehead.“This is so exciting.”
It was, but Willow didn’t want to get her hopes up.“I’m just going to meet him and look at the other dogs they have.No decisions today.”She wanted a dog she connected with and didn’t want to make a knee-jerk decision they would both regret later.If she committed to adopting a dog, it was for life.
“Sure, of course.”
The shelter was a small cedar-constructed building off the main road ten minutes up the hill toward the center of the island.The moment they opened the front door, a chorus of barking started in the back.A deeper one immediately stood out from the others.
“That’s Rufus,” Mae said with an enthusiastic smile.“Hi, Jenny,” she said to the young woman at the front desk.“We’re just here to see Rufus.Any applications for him yet?”
“No, none.Poor boy.Go on back.If you want to take him out for a walk, just let me know and I’ll grab a leash.”
Oh, no.No applications at all?In a month?
Willow followed Mae down the corridor, trying to steel herself as she glanced at the few dogs in their kennels on the way by.
Don’t get all emotional.It’s not a kill shelter.They’re not going to die if you don’t adopt them.
That helped a tiny bit, but not much.She absolutely hated seeing animals in cages.
