Page 22 of Pigeon

“No problem, Ivy. Here’s a few numbers in case you need to reach one of us. Mine, Pippa’s, her mom Tammy’s, and Trigger’s. If you need one of us to pick him up early, you can call any of those numbers. Otherwise, we’ll be back around 4pm,” Pooh says while holding out a small square of paper to me.

“I brought some treats!” Craig interrupts loudly while letting go of me and picking up a backpack.

“Thanks, Pooh. I’ll hang onto them. That’s great, Craig, but I brought lunches for both of us,” I answer both at the same time.

“The treats are for the animals,” Craig replies with an eye roll.

I suppress a laugh at his obvious “adults aren’t too bright” eye roll and turn to Pippa when she speaks.

“If it gets to be too much, please, call. One of us will come right away.”

“Standing right here, Mom. I’m not too much. I’m just right. I remember our talk and the rules. Listen to Ivy and do as she tells me. No swearing. No hiding pets in my backpack to bring home. You guys can go now,” Craig responds in a slightly sarcastic tone.

“We’ll be fine,” I reassure her with a grin.

“Okay. Craig, go help Pooh bring in the other things, please,” Pippa orders and watches as Craig and Pooh leave the building before turning to me.

“You have my number, Ivy. If you ever need anything, please use it,” Pippa says in a quiet, sincere voice.

I nod but get the feeling she’s talking about more than if Craig wants to leave early. My mind flashes back to Pigeon’s comment about a club member’s woman being an expert in abuse. Looking at Pippa’s expression, I know it must be her. I’m not sure how I feel about Pigeon mentioning my bruise to her, but I know instinctively he didn’t do it to embarrass me or just as something to gossip about.

“Thank you, Pippa,” I tell her while looking her in the eyes.

“Everyone can use another friend, and everyone needs help sometimes,” she adds before turning to the door as the guys come back through it.

“I brought some phone books and catalogs. Mac loves to tear them up, so I thought the birds here might like some too,” Craig says as he and Pooh set down several thick books on the counter.

“That’s a great idea, Craig! Prissy especially likes to destroy things,” I reply. “How about if we drop those at the aviary and get busy in the barns?”

“Bye! See you tonight,” Craig says with a wave over his shoulder before he grabs his backpack in one hand, my hand in the other, and pulls me to the door.

Pooh and Pippa shout their goodbyes as the door closes behind us.

We often have volunteers at FurEver Homes, and they’re invaluable. Without them, we couldn’t stay open. Margie usually assigns their duties, and I pretty much do my own thing, answering questions when needed. Having Craig volunteer for the day was a stroke of genius, though. He has boundless energy, full of compassion for the animals, and way more knowledge than I expected. What I was expecting was that getting dirty wouldn’t be a problem for him, and it’s not. He hasn’t shied away from any of the duties, including cleaning stalls. While he’s not strong enough to push the heavy wheelbarrows, he’s found ways to be useful. He uses his head, reasons his way through a problem, and comes up with solutions. No complaining about dirt, manure, or the sometimes unpleasant smells. This is fast becoming my favorite shift ever.

“Ready for a break?” I ask as I watch Craig spread wood shavings on the floor of a stall.

“I could use a drink. Can we take our break in here?” he asks.

“Absolutely. I’ll go get us drinks if you’d like to turn all the goats loose in here. We’ll sit on the hay bales over there, and they can run up and down the aisle. That’ll make it easier to clean their stalls too when we’re done with our drinks.”

I walk out while Craig’s opening stall doors and greeting each goat as they exit. I grab two bottles of root beer and return to the barn. I find Craig running the length of the barn with the goats. His giggles blend in with the goats blatting. Some are tossing their heads while others appear to be racing each other. Boy and goats are having a blast, and I love seeing the look that’s on Craig’s face. I totally understand his love of animals because I’ve always been the same way. I take a seat on a hay bale and wait for Craig to make another pass down the aisle. When he returns, he drops down next to me, breathing hard.

“How’d you know?” Craig asks as I hand him his bottle.

“Know what?”

“That root beer’s my favorite,” he responds with a wide smile.

“I didn’t know that. It’s my favorite too, though,” I answer while taking a long drink.

“Axel said that Prissy likes him. That true?” Craig asks.

“Yeah, it was kind of funny. She took to him right away,” I answer.

“He went on and on about it. I think he has a crush on her. Want to hear something funny, though?” Craig asks with a mischievous smile.

“Sure.”

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