“Oh,” I said, taking an involuntary step backward. “Is she a pit bull?”
“She is,” Taylor said, “but I promise you that’s not a bad thing.”
“Sorry,” I said. “But they’re used in dog fights, aren’t they? I’ve heard they’re aggressive.”
“They can be, but so can most breeds.” Taylor’s expression was neutral, but I knew her well enough to see her disappointment over my reaction to Violet’s breed. “They get a bad rap in the news, but this girl has already passed a rigorous behavioral assessment. She didn’t display any signs of aggression toward humans or other dogs, and she was a loving companion to an elderly woman until a few days ago.”
“But she’s still about to give birth to a litter of puppies, which I know absolutely nothing about.” I didn’t like anything about the idea of bringing Violet home. Lola, on the other hand…
“Let’s take her for a walk so you can get to know her a little better,” Taylor suggested, as stubborn as she was beautiful.
“All right, but for the record, I still think this is a bad idea.” I glanced into the kennel beside Violet’s, where another pit bull—this one white with brown markings—stared back at me, tail wagging. “Is he Violet’s baby daddy?”
Taylor laughed. “No, he’s actually her brother. He was neutered, but their owner couldn’t afford Violet’s spay. She also didn’t always keep Violet on leash, and she apparently wandered off and got herself pregnant.”
“Hm.” I watched with apprehension as Taylor opened the front of the kennel. She rubbed the dog and spoke gently to her before attaching Violet’s leash.
“Here you go,” Taylor said, holding the leash out to me.
I grasped it, but as I looked down at the dog, I was wishing I’d stayed home today. I could have already started putting down the new flooring—or given in and hired a contractor to do it for me. Violet walked out of her kennel, gazing up at me with brown eyes that appeared slightly too small for her face. Her tail gave a hesitant wag, as if she wasn’t any more enthusiastic about this walk than I was. Her belly was indeed swollen, but maybe not as much as I would have anticipated for a pregnant dog.
Taylor led the way down the hall, while Violet walked at my side. We went out a door that led onto the shelter’s grassy side yard, and Violet immediately squatted to pee.
“Just like a pregnant lady,” I said.
“Yep,” Taylor agreed. “She eats a lot too. I’ll go over all her care with you if you decide to foster her.”
“If,” I repeated.
“It’s really not as hard as you’re probably thinking,” Taylor said. “Violet will do all the hard work, and I can have someone come over and help when she goes into labor. We have several volunteers who’re experienced with whelping puppies.”
“I don’t even know what whelping is,” I protested.
“It’s just a fancy word for a dog giving birth,” Taylor explained.
“If you have experienced volunteers, why doesn’t one of them take her, then?”
“One of them has an elderly dog who’s gotten grumpy in her old age and doesn’t like other dogs in the house, and the other has a new baby of her own. Neither of them is fostering at the moment, but they could definitely give you a helping hand.”
I pressed my lips together. I could see where Taylor was coming from. Surely it was better for Violet to give birth in an inexperienced foster home than at the shelter, but I had my own life to think about. I needed to focus on getting the cabin renovated so I could go back to Boston, which didn’t leave much time for a dog, not to mention that the puppies would pee all over my brand-new floors and probably chew on stuff too.
“How long do puppies stay with their mother?” I asked.
“About eight weeks.”
“Taylor…I’m not going to be here that long.”
“Then I’ll move them when you need to leave,” she said. “Right now, I’m just focused on getting her out of the shelter before she gives birth. Ideally, I’d like her to stay in one home until the puppies are weaned, but as an animal rescuer, I don’t always deal with ideal situations. Sometimes, you just have to make the best of what you have available.”
I looked down at the dog. Violet stared right back, and when we made eye contact, I felt a tug in my chest. She really did have a sweet face, and she seemed mellow and well-behaved. Was I really thinking about this? “Is she housebroken?”
“Yes. Her owner’s sister says Violet is a perfect lady in the house, no bad habits that she was aware of, although she does have a penchant for chasing squirrels, so you want to make sure to keep her on leash in the yard.”
“Doubt she’s doing much squirrel chasing at the moment,” I said.
Indeed, Violet plodded along, belly swaying from side to side. Her tail hung limply behind her, and I didn’t know much about dogs, but it seemed sad somehow, like it should be up and wagging if she were happy.
“This must be confusing for her,” I said. “Losing her owner and coming to the shelter.”