Page 18 of Puppy Love

“Sounds like you could use your own,” he grunts, though he slides the rock into his pocket. I’m about to give him a snarky response when I’m interrupted by a loud chime from my back pocket. I wave goodbye to Al, then beckon Reese to my side as I pull out my phone and begin to walk back to work.

Hi Violet, it’s Angela.

How is the new groomer?

Did you cut any labor this week?

Also, I want to raise prices in December.

I look around before allowing myself to see each crease in my brain as I roll my eyes. An aggravated sigh escapes my mouth. She raised prices only a few months ago, and customers were upset enough.

But of course, when you spend 80% of the year on cruise ships in other countries, there’s never enough money.

The new groomer is great. I was able to cut 6 hours of labor this week.

I’m worried that raising prices again will drive people away.

6 hours isn’t enough.

It won’t. We’re the only resort in a 45-minute radius, they’ll pay whatever we ask for.

Raise it by 2% and cut more hours next week please.

Yes ma’am.

Hope Thailand is awesome!

I slide my phone back into my pocket, letting out an exasperated sigh. Angela has always been this way. Greedy. Demanding. Immoral. But that’s what it takes to run a business, right?

I settle my annoyance by forcing a smile, even though nobody is around to see it. The walk back to Furry Friends Pet Resort brightens my mood. Martha greets me eagerly upon my arrival.

“Hey Vi! How was your break?”

I know it’s just a formality, but that’s what makes Martha’s customer service so great. She knows exactly how to make people feel like she’s actually interested.

You mean how was the pushy phone call from my sister or the greedy texts from our insufferable boss?

“It was good! I’m going to take Reese back, then I’ll swap you.”

Martha couldn’t really handle the stress of being a kennel tech, but the customers loved her, so now, she mostly just answers phone calls and schedules appointments. I didn’t mind keeping her on because, even though I’m the manager, I hate customer service.

I would rather spend my day in the grossness of the dogs, watching their body language and scooping poop than answer a single phone call. It’s what I miss most about dog training. Ruthie’s friend runs a training business in Clarkston. When I lived there, I would train dogs while they boarded at my house. I don’t miss being tied to my house all the time, but I do miss the rest of it. I miss understanding every aspect of my job. I miss teaching dogs how to sit and settle and heel. I miss building a connection with them.

I understand dogs. I do not understand people. They always seem to get upset over the most mundane things, and their words and body language rarely match. I’m never sure which thing to trust. Dogs, on the other hand, wear everything on their sleeves. If they’re stressed, or happy, or nervous, or angry, you will know. Even though some people have trouble reading them, to me, they’re straightforward.

“Sure thing, Vi,” Martha says, shuffling a stack of papers around on the desk.

I beckon Reese to my side and lean down to pet him as we walk through the swinging door to the back. I look down at the dirty residue left on my palms.

“Ew, Reese. You’re disgusting,” I say, wiping my hands on my jeans. That is the one and only thing Mallory ever did for Reese. I always took care of all the vet appointments, nail trims, and ear cleanings, but Mallory took him to get a bath every three weeks. With everything going on, it’s the one thing I’ve let slide. I wonder if Cam has any extra time.

I peek through the salon window at the frizzy-haired woman, who’s brushing out a small white poodle. Despite her overall abrasiveness, she really is gentle with the dogs.

I knock on the frame twice before stepping into the fur-filled room. Cam’s head snaps up, her eyes wide and her chest tight, like she’s trapping the air inside her lungs. I think she’s scared I’m going to bring it up, but I think we both know the best way to navigate the situation is to pretend it never happened at all. Still, it isn’t easy. Every time I see her, I just wonder what it would have been like if she’d let me finish the job.

“How’s it going in here?” I ask, trying to find a good segway for “do you have time to bathe my dog?”

Before answering, Cam smiles. Like, really smiles, and it catches me completely off guard. She had given me a few upturned twitches before, but this is a smile. Straight, white teeth shine through her pink lips, and the smallest dimple on her right cheek reminds me that dimples exist.

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