13
“Hey Jake, it’s good to see you,” said Maria, emerging from the kennel area. “How’ve you been?”
I let the door to the shelter close behind me and fought against my instinctive response to the smell—a mixture of disinfectant and dog. Crescent City Canines was a clean place. They did a great job taking care of the animals, but they were always at capacity and housing that many dogs together left an olfactory mark.
“Good. Work’s busy. How are things with you guys?”
“We’re busy, too.” She leaned against the counter, taking what I knew was a well-deserved break. She wore jeans and a blue Crescent City Canines T-shirt, and she’d pulled her graying hair into a ponytail. “The shelter is full, and I’ve fostered out to everyone I can, but the dogs all have a place to stay, so we’re good.”
Maria started the shelter after one of the hurricanes left so many pets homeless and kept it going because there was always a need. I’d donated to one of their adoption fair fundraisers and kept coming back when I found out about the Doggy’s Day Out program.
“Thanks for the food delivery. It really helps.”
“You’re more than welcome. Let me know if there’s anything else you need.” I’d set up a recurring delivery of dog food when Maria told me that’s what would do the most good for the shelter.
“We’re good. Unless I can get you to change your mind about fostering?” She arched an eyebrow at me and smiled expectantly, but I knew she wouldn’t push.
We’d had the conversation about fostering the first time I’d taken one of the dogs out for a day trip. Part of me would love to have a dog, but another part worried I’d get so caught up in my head, I wouldn’t give it the care it deserved. And regardless of how much I might want it, it wasn’t fair to put the extra responsibility on Anna.
Growing up, I’d had a dog named Turing, nicknamed Turn. He was part Lab part shaggy mutt, and I’d adored him. When things got difficult for me at school or I had a problem with something else, he was always there for me. But it was my mom who reminded me to take care of him or she just did it herself. Even as an adult, I didn’t really trust myself to take care of another living thing. So I came to the shelter to get my furry companion fix and to give the dogs a break from the kennel.
“Not now. But I promise to let you know if I change my mind,” I said. “Do you have someone who could use a day out today.”
“I’ve got the perfect someone.” Marie glanced at my athletic shorts and sneakers. “Are you going for a run?”
“I was hoping to.”
“Go ahead and sign in.” She pushed the laptop sitting on the counter in my direction. “I’ll be right back.”
By the time I finished filling out the online form, Maria was back, leading what looked like a small hound mix. He had floppy ears and a smooth, soft brown coat, and he looked like he’d take off, dragging Maria behind him if she let him.
“Jasper, sit.”
The dog’s butt grazed the floor before he popped back up to standing.
“No treat unless you sit.” At the wordtreat, the dog’s entire focus shifted to Maria’s pocket. She held up a hand to get his attention and tried again. “Jasper. Sit!”
This time his butt stayed down, and he waited—if not patiently, at least without too much wiggling—for her to give him a piece of puppy jerky.
“Good boy.” She ran a hand over his head, ruffling his ears, before standing and holding out the leash to me. “Jasper is just over a year old with enough energy to power a small city. He has the potential to be a great dog, but he has a hard time calming down.”
The dog danced and wiggled around my feet as if to prove her point. I reached into my shorts pocket for the dog treats I’d stashed earlier. I held one up so Jasper could see it before concealing it in my hand. His gaze latched on to where the treat disappeared, and the wriggle calmed a fraction.
“Jasper, sit.” I pitched the command low, and the dog immediately obeyed. “Good boy.” I gave him the treat and a head pat, and then held my hand up and told him to stay. To my surprise--and I think Maria’s—he complied, sitting at my feet like the perfect specimen of canine obedience.
“Would you look at that,” Maria said, shaking her head. “He hasn’t been running with anyone before, but he’s good on a leash. And food motivated, as you can tell. He could be a great dog for someone if he could stay calm long enough for them to get to know him.”
“Let’s see if I can wear him out. We’ll be back in a couple hours,” I said, giving the leash a tug and heading to the door.
“Have fun,” Maria called after us.
We started out walking the few blocks to the Riverwalk so we could get used to each other before we risked running and getting tangled in leashes and limbs. Jasper pulled against the leash, but a quick correction had him walking as close to a heel as I could expect with all the sights and sounds around us. He sniffed his way down the first block and a half, paying particular attention to the doorways. By the third block, he was walking with his head high and an expression on his doggy face that I swear looked like he was ready for a big adventure.
As soon as we hit the Riverwalk, I started to run, and Jasper fell into step beside me. We ran with the Mississippi on one side and the city on the other. I slid easily into a comfortable stride, losing myself in the feel of my feet hitting the walkway and the dog keeping pace next to me. We’d gone three miles when my watch vibrated with an incoming text. I glanced down to see Elena’s name and smiled. I hadn’t heard from her since she cancelled our sex toy date, and I was definitely interested in rescheduling.
ELENA
What’s a Hopper?
