I crave her smile. The way it melts my s tress away. I could use it now. She’s been so distant, it’s never been like this between us. I need to do something to get her back on track. Remind her why we’re good together. My foot bounces as I rack my brain. I need something that will bust down her walls . . .There is one thing.
I pull out my phone again and open the search engine, hoping I’ll find what I’m looking for.
After making a few calls yesterday, I hit the jackpot. At least I think I did. This morning, I woke up at three o’clock a.m., packed up my truck, and drove seven hours to South Dakota, all the way to the April Valley Rescue.
After turning into the parking lot, I get out and stretch my arms over my head, leaning to the left and right until I hear the satisfying crack from my spine. Better.
Right on time. I wasn’t taking any chances.
Inside, I’m greeted by a friendly staff member with short brown hair and a buffalo plaid vest. She’s probably who I’m looking for.
“Are you Carol?” I ask.
“Yes, I am!” she says brightly.
I extend my hand across the desk. “Hi. I’m Logan. We spoke on the phone yesterday.”
“Logan! Yes, right! We received your application, and everything looks great.” She rounds the front desk, gesturing for me to follow. “Come on, I’ll introduce you to the little guy you were interested in.”
Raising an eyebrow, I fall in step behind her, and she leads me through a heavy metal door into a larger room filled with kennels. Each one appears to be six feet by ten feet, separated with blue walls that are about six feet tall, and chain-link doors. Barks echo off the walls as she guides me to the dog. There’s one in particular I’m interested in, but I have no idea how dog adoptions work. From what I hear, you’re supposed to just know, whatever the hell that means. We pass by a Chihuahua, and he stands on his hind legs and rests his miniature paws on the chain link, yipping at me.Is it normal for it to shake like that?
I follow her down another row of kennels and she pauses, unlocking one of the doors and waving me in with an open palm.
“Here we are! I’ll let you two get acquainted, take as much time as you like. If you think he’s a good match and you’re still interested in adoption, come find me at the front desk and we’ll finish your paperwork. If not, let me know if there’re any other dogs you would like to meet, and we can set that up.”
I nod, and enter the kennel with the beast.Holy shit.“That’s for sure a dog, right?” I ask, unwilling to risk taking my eyes off it.
She chuckles. “Yes.”
“Okay . . . just making sure. Thanks.”
Carol leaves us be, and I study him with my hands on my hips.
He doesn’t bother to greet me, just lies there with his chin pressed to the cold concrete. He tracks my movements as I step closer and crouch in front of him. We lock eyes, staring each other down. Interesting.
“Sorry, I had to ask,” I say, apologizing to him. He looks more wolf than dog and is the size of a small horse. Thick black fur covers his body, except for around his muzzle, which is more gray, and the parts of his jaw that are patched with white. He’s charming in a might-rip-out-my-spine kinda way.
Carol said he was a stray and they weren’t sure of his age but estimated him to be around five years old. She didn’t know his breed either, but if I had to take a stab at it, I’d say he’s a cross between a Great Dane and a werewolf. Apparently, he’s been here for over a year.
“So . . .”
He glances away from me, I take a look at the sign on the wall.
Name: Dogmeat.
I shake my head. “Christ, that’s the worst name I’ve ever heard. And I know an Alaskan shepherd named Chicken Salad.”
He blinks slowly, like he’s offended.
“Yeah, I’d be pissed too. Your PR team did you dirty, man.”
The big guy huffs out a breath at the same time I do. His ears twitch, and he looks at me again.
“You’re right, you don’t exactly scream ‘emotional support animal,’” I muse. “Nothing sayscalmlike a hundred-pound hellhound in row eight . . . Lucky for you, that’s okay.”
The dog raises an eyebrow at me, then lowers it again, like he’s given up on everyone.
“Dude, if I bring you home . . . you gotta be cool, all right? You can’t be terrorizing the neighborhood, or dragging dead cats and shit into my place.”
