Page 26 of Forever & Always You
“Because it’s sponsored by none other than Pierce Wealth Management.” Austin grins, those perfectly straight teeth catching me off guard again. “Looks good for business, I get to hang out with some dogs every weekend,andit’s tax deductible.”
I press my hands to my hips. “So why are we still here and not there? C’mon! I wanna see the dogs.”
We head downstairs and hop into Austin’s car together, and I quite enjoy being the passenger princess as we head downtown. I control the music and the AC, and Austin complains that my music taste is disappointing and my AC preference too dramatic, and I simply ignore his whining. We stop by the pet store en route to the shelter and fill a cart with monstrous bags of kibble that Austin somehow manages to stack in his tiny front trunk, and we pick out some toys together, too. Lots of squeaky ones. As we drive to the shelter, I rip off all the tags.
“You do this every weekend?” I ask Austin as the pile of toys accumulates at my feet.
“I try.”
“Which dog is your favorite? I’m sensing .?.?.” I drum my fingertips against my forehead and close my eyes, pretending to think. When I open them again, I say, “Some three-legged mutt with one eye and missing patches of fur. Correct?”
Austin reaches for a toy on my lap, squeaks it, then throws itgently at my face. “I don’t pick favorites.”
“Liar. Of course you have a favorite.”
“I don’t.”
“I’ll figure out which one you have a soft spot for,” I say confidently.
“Good luck, because there isn’t one.”
We pull up outside the shelter, Saving Paws Animal Rescue, and immediately a woman named Fiona races outside to greet us. Austin introduces me as his friend, which is a lot more than he introduced me as to his receptionist at the office yesterday, so I’ll take it. I bundle all of the toys back into a carrier bag while Austin and Fiona grab all the kibble from the trunk.
I’ve never been to a dog shelter before, but by the time we sign in at the front desk and dump the kibble in the storeroom, I’ve adjusted to the constant barking punctuated by the odd howl. I carry the bag of toys in my arms with nervous excitement, following Austin around like I’m a lost puppy myself, as he catches up with Fiona on which dogs were adopted this week and any new arrivals.
And then finally,finally .?.?.“Ready to hand out those toys?”
“Yes!”
Fiona unlocks a door for us, revealing a long corridor with kennels either side of the walkway, and the barking kicks up a notch as lots of paws and noses poke excitedly through the kennel doors. She tells us to hang out for as long as we want, then leaves us to it.
“Let’s just work our way down,” Austin suggests, reaching into the bag to pluck out a toy. He crouches in front of the first kennel to our left, waving the fox plushie at the Akita whose tail is wagging so fast, I’m surprised the whole damn dog doesn’t propel through the air. “Hi, Nelly. How’s it going this week? Look what I’ve got!”
Austin passes Nelly the toy, and the poor pup may as wellcollapse in excitement. She circles her kennel, squeaking the toy in her mouth, her entire body wiggling with joy.
“Hi, Nelly,” I say gently, holding my hand through the door, but she’s too excited to care.
We switch over to the first kennel on the right-hand side now.
“Bruno’s a grump,” Austin says, slipping a toy through the door while we get glowered at by the German shepherd curled up in the back corner.
We work our way down the corridor, going from side-to-side and showing each dog some attention as we hand out the toys. Some are nervous, some a little growly, some too tongue-friendly. Each has a sign on their door with their name and their story, and as we near the end of the corridor, I feel a lot sadder than I did at the start. Some of these dogs have been here for a long time, some have been abused and neglected, some were found as strays.
“I thought this was going to be fun,” I say gravely, “but I was mistaken.”
“They’ll find their homes eventually,” Austin reassures me.
“But what about Teddy over there?” I point to the elderly Lab mix, and I think I may actually cry as he nips gently on the plushie donut we gave him. He doesn’t have many teeth left. “His sign says he’s been here for nine hundred and thirty-two days. Do the math on that, Austin. That’s over two years!”
Austin looks back at me over his shoulder from his crouched position on the floor, the nervous Chihuahua he’s been trying to win over still growling fiercely at him. “Are you crying?”
“The more important question is why aren’tyoucrying?” I sniff.
Austin stifles a laugh as he straightens up, and to my surprise, he places an arm around my shoulders and pulls me in close. “Would you like to take Teddy outside to play? Would that make you feel better?” he asks softly, the words getting lost in my hair.
I nod against him. “Yes, please.”
“Let’s finish up and I’ll go grab his leash.”
