Page 55 of DadBod

“This must be Calvin and Ryann.” Bernie bends at the waist and raises his hand. Calvin slaps his palm. “Nice to meet you, Calvin. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“You have?”

“I have.” He has. I spoke to him, at length, the other day about the kids and why we want to help today. For the animals, of course, but also for the kids.

He pushes up to full height, which is impressive because he’s way over six feet tall. “You’re even prettier than Elizabeth said.” He smiles at Ryann, who doesn’t scowl. That’s progress. He holds his hand out for her to shake. She does it, reluctantly. “Thank you for taking time to help us out today.”

“What is this?” Ryann says like something tastes terrible.

“This is Pet-a-Palooza, the Pet Project’s semi-annual fundraising and adoption event.”

“What do we do?” Calvin’s voice still sounds excited.

“Well, Calvin, I’ve assigned you to work in the Puppy Pod.” Bernie gestures to the large tent-covered pen set up in the middle of a large grassy area.

“Really?” He jumps up and down. “Can I hold them?”

“Of course. You’re going to help out our volunteer Jeriann.” Jeriann spots us and waves. I return the gesture.

“I know her.” Calvin’s smile just keeps getting bigger.

“I know.” Bernie points to Jeriann, who’s surrounded by jumping, yipping puppies. “Run on over. She’ll tell you what you need to do today.”

Calvin takes off fast; I’m barely able to remind him to be good.

Bernie looks at Ryann. “I’ve got a special job for you.”

She rolls her eyes, and I choose to ignore it even if it’s as rude as all get-out.

Bernie walks over to another tented area, secluded from the rest of the pet areas. Once we’re close enough, I see two other people beneath the shaded tarp and several dogs lying on blankets. “These are our special-needs dogs.”

“Special needs?”

Bernie nods. “They come to us with medical and behavioral issues. These are more difficult to adopt because these animals take extra care and attention.” He sighs. “And money. Some will have medical expenses, which means it’s important the right person adopts these sweet animals.” Stepping inside the tent, he points to a small dog that I’d guess was a dachshund mix. “This is Helga.”

“Helga?” Ryann sniffs.

“She’d been hit by a car and lost her leg. She’s rehabilitating now. The owner didn’t want to spend the time to help her get back on her feet.” Bernie winks at his play on words.

“That’s terrible,” Ryann says, looking down at Helga.

“It is, but I’d much rather they bring them to us. Think of the alternative.”

No thanks.

“And this little fella is Bart.”

“What’s wrong with him?” Ryann has gotten the point, but maybe she shouldn’t ask that in such a way.

“Nothing is wrong with him. He’s diabetic and needs insulin injections each day.”

Bernie shows us several cats and two other dogs until Ryann points to a kennel near the back of the tent. The kennel is partially covered by a sheet, but you can see a dog lying near the back of the cage. “Who’s in there?”

“Ah.” Bernie steps closer to the silver crate. “That’s Charlie.”

“What’s the matter with him?” She looks around the tent. “Why isn’t he out like the others?”

“Charlie is…” Bernie sighs. “He was abused.”

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