Page 15 of Puppy Love

Hayden clears his throat, shooting Adrian a dissatisfied glance. Adrian rolls their eyes and corrects themself.

“Annie was unpleasant. Annie and Carlos started dating, but secretly, she was giving another kennel tech Dale shifts on the side. If you know what I mean.“ They wiggle their eyebrows, and all three of us shake our heads, stifling our laughs. “Well, one day, Carlos found out, and it was pretty much World War III in the lobby.”

I give them a “seriously” look, but Avery’s eyes widen, and he nods his head, confirming.

“Carlos and Dale were straight up mauling each other,” he adds. “It was gruesome.”

“Damn,” Hayden mutters. “I mean, you know how much I love women, but no woman is worth all that.”

His eyes flick over to me, and I nod in agreement. “Nobody is worth all that.”

“Right? Especially bitc-people like Annie.”

Adrian doesn’t use the word “bitch” in a derogatory, woman-hating manner. They use it for any gender of person, either out of love or pure distaste. And if Adrian is calling someone a bitch, chances are, they probably are one.

“Anyway,” Avery says, taking my uneaten gyro into his hands. “That’s why Angela made that rule.”

I tilt my head, frowning. “What rule?”

He takes a massive bite of the gyro. “You know. The ‘no fucking’ rule.” Adrian lightly smacks his shoulder.

“He means the ‘no fraternization’ rule. After that, Angela decided to instate a strict no-dating, no-nothing policy, which is totally fair if you ask me.”

It feels like I swallowed a rock, with how large and dry the lump in my throat is. It’s difficult to funnel air into my lungs with it blocking its path. I cough, feeling as if my lungs are filling with water. Heat pours over my cheeks, my throat burning as I continue clearing it repetitively. Avery casually slides a glass of water over to me, and Adrian hops off the couch to rub circles on my back.

“Damn, babes, you good?”

I try to nod my head, which in some twisted way is supposed to communicate that I’m fine. I take a strained breath and finally feel like I can breathe for the first time in sixty seconds.

“It’s okay, Cam,” Hayden says, after I give them all a thumbs-up to signal I’m okay. “I don’t work there, so we’re totally good.”

six

The Stick

Violet

Why are golden retrievers so cute and simultaneously complete psychopaths?

I pry a fluffy ginger puppy’s jaw off the sleeve of my sweatshirt, a small puncture torn through the fabric from his razor-sharp teeth.

“Okay Tex, I think it’s time for you to go into the Party Pen,” I say, draping a leash over his head. I wave Brooke, our genius kennel tech, over. Literally, she’s a genius. The girl is sixteen and has already graduated high school. I’m pretty sure her IQ is in the 190s. Why she’s working at a pet resort instead of taking classes at Harvard is a mystery to me. But I’m not upset about it, seeing as she’s one of my favorite coworkers.

“What’s up boss?” she asks, brushing her pin-straight platinum hair out of her face. She boasts a cheerleader smile, the kind that is so big and bright you can’t help but return it.

“Can you please take Tex to the Party Pen?” I ask her sweetly. “He’s getting a little bit too… extreme for these guys.” I gesture to the crowd of small puppies surrounding me.

At Furry Friends Pet Resort, we divide our dogs into four playgroups. There’s the Small Dog Pen, the Large Dog Pen, the Puppy Pen, and the Party Pen. As I’m sure you can guess, only the absolute nutjobs go into the Party Pen. I think Tex is really starting to earn his spot.

“Absolutely!” Brooke responds cheerfully, before grabbing the leash from my hand. I always appreciate her optimism, as it reminds me of when mine starts slipping. Managing a pet resort is all fun and games, except if fun and games were also hell. Don’t get me wrong. I love dogs. They’re pretty much my entire life. But try being in charge of one hundred and fifty of them, then see how you feel.

I exit the Puppy Pen behind Brooke and make my way to the Big Dog Pen to receive Reese, my six-year-old boxer who may as well be my child.

“Can you guys please send Reese out of the play area?” I ask through my walkie. The message travels to the employees in the large dog play area, and I retrieve my dog from the gated cell. His broad, white body strenuously wiggles, his short nubby tail practically reaching his face as his body curls with excitement.

“You wanna...” I ask in a high-pitched voice, clapping my palms to my thighs. Reese grows even more animated, loud snorts coming from his shortened nose. He jumps up, his front paws digging into my knees. “You wanna go on a walk?”

Reese lets out an excited growl from the back of his throat, before tilting his head to the ceiling and bellowing a loud noise somewhere between a bark and a howl. I can’t help but laugh. “Alright bubs, let’s go!”

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