Page 43 of Jump

It’s not a lot, but it’s the best we can afford, so we do our best to ensure that no animal has to spend more than a couple of nights here before they’re adopted out again.

“Are you awake, Diesel?” I singsong as I walk. “Phoebe and Grant are here.” I move closer to his cage and snag a leash as I go.

Stopping at his door, and glancing over my shoulder to the couple who give me more than enough space to say they’re aware I want it, I smile and unlatch Diesel’s cage. “He’s been a little down,” I tell them conversationally while I quickly slip the leash over his head to stop his mad dash into the yard outside. “He had a romance going with a particularly beautiful rottweiler, but she was adopted recently, so he’s going through what I suppose we would call a breakup.”

“Oh dear.” Phoebe lowers to a crouch, and laughs when the fox terrier’s little body drags me along and slams against hers just as soon as he’s close enough. Instantly, he runs his tongue along her cheek and slobbers all over her. “You were sad, Diesel?” She scratches the backs of his ears and teeters on her feet, but Grant steadies her with a hand on her shoulder.

“He’s quite lively, huh?” He lowers too, and gives Diesel a pat. “His tail is going faster than my eyes can keep up.”

“He likes people.”

I keep hold of the leash so the dog doesn’t sprint to freedom and leave me with the annoying task of finding him in the cold and dark, but I cross my arms and stand back as far as our tether will allow, so he can get acquainted with his potential new family.

“He’s been my little buddy since the moment he arrived,” I admit. “He likes to be around me and my colleague as much as he enjoys being around the other dogs.”

“So he’s good with other animals?” Grant asks. “Because we have one other at home.”

“He is. Once a day, when it’s not busy and visitors aren’t likely to drop by, we let the safe dogs out into the yard together. This way, we can not only nurture their socialization and the skills they require to maintain it, but test new animals that come through.”

I look to Phoebe and smile when she glances up. “A dog is far less likely to be adopted if they’re aggressive, can’t be walked on a leash, or completely spaz out around other dogs. And being in a cage for too long is a likely contributor to negative social skills, so we try to let them out together as often as possible. And twice a day, every day, every single canine in residence is taken for a walk on the leash.”

Well… sometimes the leash is optional.

“That’s a lot of work for you,” Grant murmurs. But his eyes are all for the dog who flops to his back and shows off his belly. “Even in the rain and snow?”

I nod my head and allow a soft snicker to roll free of my throat. “Even in the rain and snow. But I’m not alone. We have volunteers who like to help and drop by often. Not everyone can have a dog of their own. Maybe they don’t have the space at home, or their landlord won’t allow it. Perhaps they simply cannot afford the upkeep of an animal, since shots and food and registration can all get a little expensive. So they come here instead and hang out for a few hours. It works for us, because the more volunteers we have, the longer each dog can stay out of his or her cage. And it works for them, because they get to play with an animal without the added expense or responsibility.”

I watch Diesel lap up their attention and slide his tongue along Phoebe’s arm. “He looks like he really likes you.”

“We really like him too,” Phoebe responds. She looks to Grant, and they have one of those silent conversations couples tend to have.

I mind my business and avert my eyes, but when she clears her throat and draws my attention back around, I know it’s a done deal.

“We’d love to adopt him, Ms. Doyalson. If that’s okay with you.”

“Of course.” I lower into a crouch, satisfied another dog gets to go home this week, and laugh when Diesel bounds to me. “Is that okay with you, buddy? Do you want to go home with the Davieses?”

He makes a happy squeaking sound in the back of his throat and wags his tail so hard, his entire body moves.

“I guess that’s a yes.” I sneak in a fast hug, then I set Diesel down and push up to stand. “I’ll give you his lead,” I offer my end of the leash to Grant, “and go get all the paperwork ready. Settle in,” I tell them both. “We’ll be about half an hour, then you’re all done. Diesel will be a free canine, and your family will be bigger than it was this morning.”

I turn to head back toward the office, but shoes thudding against the floor of reception bring my head up with a snap, and the shuffle-shuffle of a man kicking snow and mud off his boots makes my stomach jump.

Jase left a long time ago, and even if he were inclined to come back to work on a Saturday night, those footsteps are not his.

“E-excuse me.” I hold up a finger for Grant and Phoebe, then mildly panicking, though I try to hide that from my guests, I start toward the doorway that separates the front of the facility and the back.

There’s not even a door. Nothing to ensure security between where I stand and where a stranger makes a bunch of noise.

But I’m the grownup here, right? I’m the one responsible for everyone else on the premises.

“Hello?” I work hard to keep my tone light and carefree, but as I pass a heavy shovel with dried dog poop on the end, I’m tempted to pick it up and use it as a weapon. “We’re not open to the public right now, so if you could come back in the morn—”

I step around the corner and reveal myself to the intruder, only to growl when I find a mildly amused Matteo Ruiz waiting by the front desk with his hands on his hips and a heavy sheen of sweat on his brow and shirt.

“Matt?” If I had my shovel, I’d toss it down out of frustration. “Dammit.” I stride closer to him so the couple in the back are less likely to hear me. “You scared the crap out of me! We’re closed.”

“If you’re scared… and closed,” he adds with a lifted brow, “then your front door should be locked, and your alarm system switched on.” He rocks back on his heels, towering over me despite his easy stance, and glances over my head. “You okay?”

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