Page 64 of Scarlet Vows
I smile, but the sadness inside weighs me down. “Don’t get me wrong. I come from a place of privilege, but I think I like it at the shelter because dogs don’t judge or expect anything from you, just love and attention and a kind hand, and that’s both…a little frightening, as I can see how some might abuse that, and it's also freeing.”
“You know what, Alina?” she says. “I think you’re going to do just great.”
I hope so. I really do.
In just one small place in my life, I’d like to succeed and have a taste of uncomplicated happiness and accomplishment.
A place to breathe and not lose myself in the growing knots and feelings for Ilya.
Chapter Fourteen
ALINA
When their timein the park is done, we take the dogs back, poop-scooping along the way. Eva tells me the walks are important for that, as it’s easy to let them get used to the wee-wee pads, but she prefers those for emergencies, and if a dog gets to know outside is the place for business, then it’s much easier for adoption.
“But they’re not puppies…mostly,” I say when we arrive back.
“Some have trauma, and we work through it with routine, with rewards. But the goal is to have clean pads on the floor each morning and then take them for their morning walk.”
“You’d be surprised,” says the young guy who’s clipping leads on the kennel two members, “how many shelters just leave the dogs to go in their cage and then wonder why there’s a higher rate of returns.”
Jane wraps the leads around her hand. “That, and people are lazy.”
After they go, we let cage three out to play, as well as some of the individual dogs who have their own singular cages.
“The ones,” Eva tells me, “don’t like to mix with other dogs. Or the more traumatized or troublesome ones.”
To me, they’re all good. They all have their quirks, sure, but not one dog here is bad or hopeless.
“They just need love and patience.”
“So true,” she says.
I go around, giving the dogs cuddles and treats until I’m back at Albert’s cage.
He stares at me with liquid eyes, and I let him out, sitting cross-legged on the floor with him.
Albert considers me. Sniffs the air; he knows I have a treat. But he doesn’t go for it.
Instead, he comes up and crawls onto my lap with a tiny whine.
I giggle, and he perks up, looking at me a little anxiously but happily, and then starts to lick my face.
I offer him the treat, but he just gives me doggy kisses until he’s decided it’s enough. He curls up, nudging my hand, and I open it. He snuffles up the treat then sighs and flops all the way down.
I pet him. He’s soft, heavy, warm.
“Albert seems very taken with you,” Eva says with a smile.
I smile down at him, scratching behind his ears, which makes his tail wag. “The feeling’s mutual.”
Albert sighs again and turns a little so I can get to his tummy.
“How long has he been here?”
“Nearly a year,” Eva admits. “I rescued him from another shelter that was going to euthanize him because of his age. And he was so withdrawn and listless after his owner passed.”
“That’s horrible.” My heart clenches. “Albert, sweet Albert. You’re safe here.”
