Head Over Paws

by Debbie Burns

  Or you could just stop by his office. Let him know you lost your phone and give him an update on the pointer.

  As the sun climbed up in a pink-and-orange sky, promising a beautiful spring day ahead, Olivia was feeling optimistic enough to want to try it. To put aside any worry over being the one who’d initiated the kissing or who’d confessed to sharing something pretty scarring in common with his ex-fiancée.

  She could even stop by this morning instead of putting it off until Friday. She had a sub coming in for the first part of the day so that she could take the dog to the shelter when it opened at eight. Shaving another half hour off her school day wouldn’t inconvenience anyone.

  Seeing that the pointer wasn’t losing interest in licking his empty bowl, Olivia scooped it up and set it on the table. She sank onto her heels and switched the leash to her other hand. She held her flattened palm up to show it was empty, and to her surprise, he began to lick it as well.

  “Look at that. I’d almost swear you’ve noticed I’m here.”

  To Olivia’s delight, the pointer wagged his short tail hard enough to sway his hips along with it. His solemn brown eyes even connected with hers for a second or two.

  “You know, you’re so gorgeous it just about stops my heart. What do you say I get dressed and take you for a walk before we go check out your new digs? Temporary digs, anyway. I’m holding fast to the hope that you’re adopted before you even have time to settle in.”

  As if in answer, his tongue swiped across her chin and nose before he turned his attention to the yard and the birds in the trees.

  “On an affection scale of ‘largely indifferent’ to ‘joined at the hip,’ that might not be much, but it’s good enough to make my morning.”

  * * *

  Gabe had no memory of being at the Soulard Farmers Market first thing on a Wednesday morning before. In fact, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d been here, though he’d come often enough as a kid with his parents on Saturdays when the market had seemed like a chaotic, bustling metropolis. Today, the old open-air building was quiet enough that his footsteps carried a light echo, just like the stillness carried the coughs of one of the vendors who was setting up a selection of handmade soaps on a nicked-up table.

  The ten or so vendors who’d be selling on this early-spring weekday were mostly still unloading out of vans and truck beds. He spotted a woman unpacking an oversize tub of bouquets and headed over to her table. She’d already put out a couple different varieties of rose bouquets—whites, pinks, and reds—and a few bouquets of bright-yellow sunflowers. But he was drawn to three bouquets boasting a selection of subtler colors: muted whites and a variety of pale greens.

  “See anything to suit you?” She was close to his mom’s age, he was guessing, and had deep-set wrinkles around her eyes that she’d gotten from a good deal of either smiling or squinting, and he wasn’t about to guess which.

  He nodded toward the muted-looking bouquet. “What would you say that type’s appropriate for?”

  The woman was placing the bouquets into open round holders and appraised him over the rim of her glasses. “How old’s the person you’re buying them for?”

  “Ah, midtwenties, I’m guessing, maybe mid-to-late twenties.”

  She nodded. “Then the answer’s easy. Just buy what you think she’ll like. There are no rules with millennials when it comes to buying flowers. The succulents and eucalyptus in those arrangements pair well with the cream roses. You can’t go wrong with subtle elegance like that.”

  “Subtle elegance, huh? I’ll take one. Know any vendors who sell cards?”

  “If you’ll hold on a minute, I’ve got a tub of ’em in my van that I still need to unload.”

  Gabe chose his favorite of the three bouquets and debated what he’d write in the card as the flower vendor traipsed back across the long hallway with a smaller tub. He was happy when the wire rack of cards she pulled out were blank inside with St. Louis photographs on the front. He’d not been in the mood for anything sappier than the flowers he was buying. He was close to choosing one with a view of Forest Park when he spotted a card with a golden retriever sprawled out on the steps below the Arch.

  “This and the bouquet. Do you take credit cards?”

  “I do. Give me a minute to get everything pulled up.”

  According to his phone, Olivia’s school was just a few blocks away, so Gabe decided to leave the truck parked on the street here and walk. Based on a few recent visits to his niece’s elementary school, he knew schools weren’t as receptive to visitors as they used to be. If he tried to see Olivia in person without an appointment, it was unlikely he’d be able to get past the front desk.

  But that was fine by him. All he wanted to do this morning was deliver the flowers to her and let her know he was thinking of her. Maybe it would tempt her to call, maybe it wouldn’t. But at the very least, it was a try. And right now, that was the best he could do.

  Chapter 14

  Olivia had planned to arrive at the High Grove Animal Shelter just as the building opened at eight, but traffic had been light, and she was a few minutes early. Aside from a single truck that reminded her a bit of Gabe’s and gave her heart a pang, the parking lot was empty. If ever a building could radiate happy energy, this one did.

  The single-story redbrick building had already been freshened up for spring with new mulch. Bright-yellow daffodils lined the mulch bed. Popping out between the groupings of flowers were brightly colored metal cat and dog sculptures. The two parking spots in front were reserved for in-progress adoptions and had metal signage with pictures of storks carrying blankets with kittens and puppies spilling out that brought a smile to Olivia’s face.

  As welcoming as the shelter was at first look, tears still stung her eyes as she opened her back-passenger door, pinched open the door of the crate wedged in between the front and back seats, and clipped a leash to the pointer’s collar. Goodbyes had never come easy. And even in the span of one short night, she was more drawn to this reticent dog than ever.

  If she knew for sure Principal Garcia was going to renew her contract for next year, and she wasn’t going to be back to the drawing board in terms of a job, she’d jump through hoops to move out of Aunt Becky’s right now and find a dog-friendly place to rent.

  She swallowed hard and cleared her throat, which caught the dog’s attention. He brushed his nose across her hand before stepping to the edge of the seat and taking in his new surroundings. He licked his jowls a bit nervously and flattened his tail between his legs. Olivia’s heart might as well be being shoved through a wringer. Even nestled in between the residential and business sections of Webster Groves in a seemingly quiet part of the city, the sights and sounds here would be a far stretch from what the dog was used to. Olivia knew Old Bollinger Road well enough to know that aside from weekend traffic at the river, the dog had had a quiet life, especially alone in a giant backyard with nothing but woods and the river behind it.

  She stood straight and cleared her throat determinedly as he jumped out. If she went in teary-eyed, odds were good she’d break down into sobs upon leaving.

  “You’re going to get a new home before you know it. And until you do, you’re going to be pampered while you’re here.” Luckily, Olivia’s tone carried the confidence she was hoping to relay to the dog, and the threat of tears abated. For the moment, at least. “I checked out the website; this place is like a Hyatt for dogs. You’ll get walks every day. You’ll even get a fresh blanket to snuggle up with at night. And I’ve seen how you like blankets.”

  Proving his level of discomfort by completely ignoring a bird on a branch not that far away, he stepped closer to Olivia.

  “It’s going to be okay, bud. There’s even a dog park here somewhere, though something tells me once you settle in, if there are any birds in sight, you won’t care much about playing with the other dogs.” She gave him t
he most confident pat on the shoulder she could muster. “Here goes nothing.”

  He trotted along at her side till they got close to the building, then started to pull backward. He was jerking hard enough that Olivia was panicking he’d slip his collar when the front door jangled open. A guy about her age was in the doorway; his head was cocked to the side as he studied the dog with a serious look on his face.

  Olivia attempted to introduce herself as the pointer jerked her away from the entrance. “I’m…Ol—livia Grah—am. I’m here to…”

  Without giving her a second of his focus, the guy slipped a small handful of treats from a pocket in his cargo pants and sank into a squat as the door fell closed behind him. He called the dog by making a series of soft clicking sounds with his tongue.

  To Olivia’s surprise, it worked. The pointer stopped jerking backward, and his ears pricked forward. The guy moved one of the treats around on top of his fingertips until the pointer’s mouth opened in an excited pant, then tossed it a few feet in front of him.

  After the treat was inhaled with a quick flick of the dog’s tongue, the guy opened the door again. He stuck a doorstop into the bottom of the frame with his foot, then headed inside, dropping treats every few feet as he went.

  After looking her way as if to make sure she was coming, too, the dog walked in cautiously, eyeing the counters and bright gift shop and the mural on the far wall as if any of them might come to life at any second. Perhaps because he was still adjusting to having regular meals again, the treats proved enticing enough to draw him inside.

  “Kick out the doorstop once he’s all the way in.”

  Stretching her leg behind her as far as it would go, Olivia managed to kick out the stop while the attentive pointer munched a fresh treat. As the door swung closed, the dog’s tail tucked tighter against his rear, and he let out a plaintive whine. Olivia felt a pang in her heart as his solemn brown eyes bore into hers before darting around his new surroundings.

  “He was close to slipping his collar,” the guy said, focusing on her for the first time. “We bring adult dogs in through the back. It’s less stressful on them. And we can get them directly into quarantine.”

  Quarantine? While that sounded less than pleasant, Olivia determined to remain as nonreactive as possible. Ava had given her word that the staff here would take great care of him. “Thanks for your help. I guess his collar needs to be tightened. I’m not sure how used to situations like this he is.”

  “You mean being surrendered?”

  She felt about two inches tall and fully responsible for his impending abandonment even though she wasn’t. “Ah, yeah, and honestly, just being indoors. He lived in a pen outdoors in a very remote area.”

  He nodded. “That’s a considerable change of environment.”

  “I, uh, believe you knew we were coming?”

  “Yes. This is the German shorthair from Rhonda and Karen’s rescue. And you’re Olivia Graham.”

  Olivia blinked. Maybe it was just her, but he seemed a touch socially awkward, just not in a gawky, insecure way. More like in an I-prefer-not-to-talk-to-people-unless-I-have-to way. “It’s nice to meet you, er…”

  “Patrick Wobrice, facilities manager and intake coordinator.” He nodded in her direction but returned his attention to the pointer. “Do you want to see quarantine? He’ll be in there a minimum of three days. Once he gets a clean bill of health, he’ll be brought up to the main kennels.”

  “Ah, sure. I’d love to see it. The whole place, actually.” With no escape route now that the door was closed, the pointer clung to Olivia’s side but followed her without further struggle. He sniffed the air incessantly as they passed the cat kennels, bringing a smile to Olivia’s lips.

  “What a sweet-looking group of cats.” A few were awake and watching the new arrival, but most were curled up in napping slings. To the side of the kennels and empty at the moment was a floor-to-ceiling kitty play area that looked like it would entice even the most stalwart of cats into a bit of playful roughhousing.

  She was still gawking at the cute cats when she realized Patrick had doubled back and was tightening the dog’s collar. “The dog kennels are next. You’ll want to walk him through the center of the aisle. Once he’s out of quarantine, he’ll be able to be introduced to the other dogs.”

  “Yeah, sure.” Olivia wrapped a bit of the extra leash around her hand as Patrick pushed through a set of thick, glass double doors.

  “Is he compatible with other dogs?”

  “He lived alone as far as I know, but he did fine at Rhonda’s.”

  Olivia wished she had more time to take in the various dogs that rose to their feet to greet the newcomer. There was a motley crew of big, short, fluffy, smooth, young, and old. Most barked eagerly and wagged their tails, a few growled warnings at the newcomer, and one or two of the more timid-acting ones tucked their tails and moved to the backs of their kennels.

  As if hopeful their destination was a less chaotic one, the pointer stuck even closer to Olivia’s side and slunk past the long row of kennels. She thought maybe he was whining but couldn’t be sure over all the barking.

  After they’d passed through the kennels, they entered the back of the building. It was an open area with a few soft chairs, lots of fun pictures of cats and dogs and even a rabbit or two, leashes and coats hung by the back door, and it opened to several doors marked with purple nameplates.

  Dread threatened to lock Olivia’s feet to the floor as Patrick headed for the door labeled QUARANTINE.

  Run, run, run. Don’t let them lock him up. Tears stung her eyes instantly. She was certain she wasn’t getting through this without shedding a few but did her best to swallow them back. You know this is for the best. It’s his ticket into a loving home.

  Olivia wouldn’t attempt to deny that she wanted his loving, forever home to be her home. If she had one of her own to offer him. It wasn’t that she minded living at Aunt Becky’s. Waking up to the smell of chickpea pancakes, tofu omelets, or cinnamon French toast and Coco’s continuous chatter had its merits, and she was grateful. Escaping the bustle of the city at the end of the day and tucking herself away in a town that time seemed to have forgotten also had merit. For the most part, she could go on living there indefinitely.

  It just so happened, this remarkable and deserving dog was the first thing causing her to question how long this “indefinite” should be.

  “Do you have any idea how long dogs his size and age typically stay here before they’re adopted?”

  Patrick held open the door, motioning her inside. “Yes, I’ve done some compilations of body size and age to average length of stay.”

  “Oh. Cool.” Olivia checked out the room, waiting for him to offer more. Only he didn’t.

  As welcoming as the rest of the facility was, she still managed to be taken off guard at not finding the quarantine room cold and indifferent like she imagined a quarantine room could be. The walls were a muted purple-gray, soft music played through a set of speakers, and an essential-oil diffuser filled the room with the inviting but subtle scent of lavender. The kennels in the small room varied in size and were divided with cats sectioned off from the dogs.

  “I’ve got our largest kennel in here ready for him. Once he’s moved up front, he’ll have more room. The big kennels in the main area are just under thirty square feet. With any luck, he won’t be here long enough to be moved over to the kennels with outdoor runs. But those are sixty square feet including the run.”

  “How long is it that you think he could be here?” she asked, rephrasing her earlier question.

  Patrick eyed the pointer with discernment. “How old?”

  “Ah, four or five was the best guess.”

  “Then he’s thin but still in his prime. Since our main kennels aren’t maxed out at the moment, he’ll be available for adoption as soon as he’s neutered and clea
rs quarantine. He’s a hunting breed, so a home visit will be required unless it’s a repeat adopter who wants him, and there’s always a chance of a home visit falling through. Assuming that doesn’t happen, my best estimate is thirty-two days.”

  “Thirty-two days.” Just over a month ago, Olivia had filled out the application to be a transport driver. All the days and hours since then seemed like such a long stretch of time.

  “Yes, based on the season, his breed, and his age,” Patrick added as if he thought she were questioning him.

  She shifted the pointer’s leash from one hand to the other. “Would it be possible for me to come by and walk him while he’s here?”

  Patrick looked up from the dog for a brief moment before reaching out for the leash. “To walk a dog, you either need to be a staff member or a volunteer. We aren’t hiring now, but we are accepting new volunteers.”

  In one swift movement, Patrick guided the pointer into his temporary kennel. It was three times the size of what he’d been in overnight, and while he didn’t fight going in the same way he’d tried to back out of his travel crate, he looked up at her and whined a loud, plaintive whine.

  Olivia’s heart twisted into a knot. “What can I do to become a volunteer?”

  “There’s an application online. We hold volunteer interviews every other month.”

  She swallowed hard. Olivia Graham, you are not going to bawl in front of this guy. “I don’t suppose there’s any way to fast-track an application?”

  His forehead knotted into a near-scowl as if she’d just spoken another language. “Who is it that you know here?”

  “Um, I don’t think I know anyone here. My sister knows a few people. Ben Thomas and Mia Chambers. And she went to one of your fund-raisers a few months ago.”