by Ellie Wade
“No, that’s okay. I get free food and vet care for him at Cooper’s Place.”
I’m happy to hear this sweet boy is getting cared for by a veterinarian. “That’s awesome. What’s Cooper’s Place?”
“It’s a local pit bull rescue. The owner’s really great. He’s helped me and Stanley boy here out a lot.” Mark reaches out and pats his dog’s back.
My eyes widen. “Your dog’s name is Stanley?”
Mark nods, and his eyes narrow slightly before he answers, “Stan, Stanley, or sometimes Hey You will work, too. Why?”
I shake my head and chuckle. “I used to know a Stan. I was just thinking about him actually.”
He nods as if he understands. “It’s a good name.”
“Yeah, it is. Isn’t it?” I smile and pull the cash that I withdrew from my account from my pocket. “I have this for you, too. I thought you might need a warm coat, boots, or another blanket or something. The gas station didn’t have much in the way of those types of things, but hopefully, this will help you.”
Mark takes the money. “Wow. Thank you, Georgia. This is all too much.”
I shake my head. “No, it’s not. I wish I could do more. Is there anything else you need help with?”
“No, you’ve done plenty. Believe me. You’re an angel.”
“I don’t know about that.” I let out a laugh. “But I try to help out when I can.” I pull Stanley’s ears between my fingers. “Stan, huh?” I say more to myself than anyone. “Mark, do you ever get the feeling that you’re exactly where you’re meant to be?”
“I do. I was meant to be sitting here on this delightful, snowy day so that I could meet you, Miss Georgia.” He smiles wide, and I notice he’s missing quite a few teeth.
“You know, I normally don’t believe in things like that, fate and such. But I have to say, I feel like I was meant to meet you and Stan today.”
He nods. “I think you were.”
“Well, I hope we meet again, Mark and Stan.” I pet the dog once more before standing.
“I’m always here, so there’s a good chance that we will,” he replies.
“Have a great day.” I wave.
“You, too, Miss Georgia. Thanks again.”
I turn away from my new friends and begin my jog back to Paige’s house with a large grin plastered across my face.
My mom was so wrong.
Sure, maybe I can’t help everyone, but today, I helped Mark and Stanley, and that’s the best feeling there is. I might not be able to change the world, but I can make one person’s day a little brighter. There’s a euphoria that comes with that. It’s unlike anything else. More than anything, I’m sad my mom doesn’t get to experience it.
My dad might be able to keep me in the States for now by limiting my funds. But there’s plenty of good I can do here.
I think Stan—the dog or the person—might have been trying to tell me that. My life has a purpose again, and I don’t care who my parents are; they can’t take that away from me.
2
“I’m paid in a currency that’s much more important to me—self-worth.” —Georgia Wright
It’s been a week since I met Mark and Stan downtown, and I haven’t been able to get them out of my mind. I’ve been all over the Internet, trying to decide what to do with my life, but I keep coming back to the shelter. As much as I don’t believe in signs, I know it was one. I can feel it.
So, yesterday, I finally broke down and called Cooper’s Place to ask if they needed help. A lovely woman named Ethel answered. She told me that they were in desperate need of volunteers and asked if I could start today.
“So, that’s your plan?” Paige tilts her head to the side.
“Yep!” I put emphasis on the P sound, making it pop.
“You’re going to volunteer at an animal shelter?” she asks again.
“Yes, Paige. A pit bull rescue.”
“I didn’t even know you liked dogs.” She scrunches her lips together.
“Of course I like dogs. Who doesn’t like dogs?” I pull the brush through my hair one last time before wrapping a band around my ponytail.
She pours the kale smoothie that she just made from the blender into a to-go cup and tightens the lid.
“There are actually many people who don’t like dogs. Some are allergic to them. Some think they smell. Some hate drool.” She shrugs.
“They only smell if you don’t bathe them. Not all dogs drool. But, yes, those who are allergic to them might not be too fond of them. Most people love dogs. I mean…dogs are adorable.”
Paige grabs her purse from the table. “Hey, I’m not trying to rain on your thunder. I’m just saying that it’s an odd choice for a job. I never pegged you for one to shovel out dog crap.”
“First of all, the expression is rain on my parade.” I raise an eyebrow.
One of Paige’s most endearing quirks is her ability to mess up the most well-known phrases.
“Secondly, I’ve done much crazier things to help out someone or something than shoveling a little dog poop. Have I told you about the time…”
She raises a hand to stop me. “Please, no. I need to get this smoothie down without gagging. I can’t hear one of your gross stories right now.”
“Fine.” I laugh. “I’m just saying, dog poop isn’t that bad.”
“Well then, you go, girl!” She raises her smoothie as if to make a toast. “You go save the world, one dog at a time. Whatever makes you happy, chica. I have to go give a marketing presentation on summer trends.” She starts toward the back door.
“But it’s still winter. Why are you already working on summer?” I question.
“Gotta stay ahead of the curve, my dear. Time is money, my friend. Strike while the rod is hot.”
I can’t help but laugh. There is no one in the world quite like Paige. I completely understand why London loves her so much.
“It’s strike while the iron is hot, and I’m not sure that fits what you’re trying to say,” I yell after her.
“You know what I mean,” she calls from the back door. “Have a great day with your dogs, George.”
“Have a great day with your rods,” I say in response before the door closes.
I’m a ball of nerves as I approach the entrance of Cooper’s Place. I changed my jeans three times before making a final decision. It might be silly to fret over an outfit to volunteer at an animal shelter, but I’m just as excited to start here as I would be if starting a corporate job.
I think the jeans and black V-neck shirt I’m wearing are perfect. I look presentable yet ready to work. I’m always proud to work someplace I can help. Although I’m not making a six-figure salary, much to my father’s displeasure, these kinds of jobs aren’t without reward. I’m paid in a currency that’s much more important to me—self-worth.
I get that I’m still viewed as the little rich girl who can volunteer instead of holding a paying job because she has her daddy’s money to fall back on. I also know that a lot of people out there wish they could help causes the way I do, but instead, they have to work to put food on the table.
I’ve felt guilty about it my entire life. But helping others relieves some of the shame that comes with being the daughter of Mr. and Mrs. Wright who wouldn’t give five dollars to a homeless man even if it meant he wouldn’t starve. There is an exception to their Scrooge-like ways, and that’s donating a large sum at a fancy ball or benefit where others can applaud their generosity. My parents are all about that.
They give because it makes others think highly of them. I give because it makes me feel good about myself. Sometimes, I don’t know how I came from them.
I step into the brick building, and a giant dog barrels toward me. My eyes widen, and I freeze.
But as soon as he reaches me, he bombards me with kisses, incessantly licking me.
“Cooper! Coops! Stop it, boy.”
A plump woman in a bright blue sweatshirt with embroidered kittens all over it comes walking t
oward me. The cats on her shirt even have fuzzy yarn tails that sway as she approaches.
“You’ll have to forgive him. He has no manners. Nicest boy you’ll ever meet…zero manners. Isn’t that right, Coops?”
The brown-and-black brindle pit bull turns toward cat shirt lady and licks her.
“Is he the Cooper of Cooper’s Place?” I ask her.
“Sure is. The boss rescued him from a life of dog fighting in the projects of Ypsilanti. They’ve been inseparable since. Cooper here is why this place was started. I’m Ethel, by the way.” She extends her hand.
“Georgia.” I shake her hand.
“Our new volunteer, Georgia? Well, just wonderful! So glad to have you here.”
“I’m excited to begin,” I tell her truthfully.
“Let me give you a tour and get you started,” she says.
I follow her with Cooper at my side. My first impression of this shelter is that it’s pretty posh and not what I’d expect of a pit bull rescue. The building seems new, and everything is clean. The place is huge with tiled flooring throughout. A large, abstract painting of a dog that looks a lot like Cooper hangs on the back wall of the first room.
“Is that Cooper?” I ask Ethel of the painting.
“It sure is. One of Kenny’s creations. He was so talented, our Kenny.” Ethel’s voice is suddenly thick with sadness, and I get the impression that the artist is no longer living.
Ethel clears her throat and motions toward the burly dog prancing beside me. “Normally, you wouldn’t find Cooper anywhere besides by his daddy’s side. However, the boss doesn’t usually take Cooper out on rescues. The dogs he’s picking up are scared and confused. Cooper could get hurt if a fight were to break out. But as you can see, he has the run of this place, and he’s really good with all the dogs once they get used to his obnoxious charm.”
“So, he’s out on a rescue now?”
“Yes. He got a call this morning about a starving pregnant girl out by the tracks in Detroit. The mama dogs are always the hardest to catch. They’ll do anything to protect their future puppies. In the picture he received of her, she was nothing but skin and bones and belly. Poor thing. I really hope he gets her.”
The vast room where the kennels are located has a cement floor and painted cinder-block walls. It’s different than the previous room, starker. I’m assuming the bare, simplistic quality of it makes it easier to clean. Yet, despite the hard surfaces, it’s still about as cozy as a room with metal cages can get. Each kennel is made so that the dog has an inside space and a doggy door with access to an outside area.
“As you can see, all the dogs can be indoors or outdoors, but we still take them on walks twice a day and let them run in the open play yard as well. We try to get them as much exercise as possible. Pit bulls are terriers by nature and have lots of energy. They love to run, dig, and chew.”
“So, you only have pit bulls here?” I ask.
“No. We started as a pit bull rescue, but we can’t turn away any dog that needs our help. We do have more bully breeds than not because they’re hard to adopt out. There’s still such a stigma around them. Also, we rescue a lot of pit bulls that are going to be euthanized in other shelters.”
“Do you take in cats?” I ask, peering toward her shirt, causing her to laugh.
“No, we don’t technically take cats. Though I’ve been unable to turn them down when asked, which is why we have a handful of office cats, much to the boss’s displeasure. I also foster many cats at my house until I can find them homes.”
I nod toward Ethel’s shirt. “Well then, your shirt makes sense.” I smile at her.
She throws her head back in laughter, leaving me to wonder what I said that was so funny.
“Oh no, dear. I’m wearing this hideous shirt to drive the boss man crazy. You see, he’s a bit of a grump, and it drives him insane when I wear these obnoxious, gaudy outfits…especially ones with cats on them. So, I’ve made it my mission to collect the ugliest feline-related clothing I can just for work.”
I can’t help but laugh with her. “That’s great.”
“It is. Annoying him really makes my day.” She shakes her head, grinning. “I’m going to be honest with you. Working in a rescue is really hard. Your heart will be broken more often than not. If I can do my part to break up the bad with a little humor, then I’m going to do it.”
I can tell that I’m going to adore working with Ethel. She’s one of those people you can’t help but love.
“Let’s get your paperwork filled out and get you to work, shall we?”
“Yes. Do I get to meet some of your office cats?” I ask her.
She huffs out a laugh. “They won’t let you avoid them; that’s for sure. They’re social little buggers.”
The office is ample in space but simple. An old metal teacher desk sits in the corner with a large desk calendar, laptop, and phone atop it. There are a few filing cabinets, some storage shelves with labeled plastic bins, and probably a dozen cat trees—those tall, carpeted scratching posts and resting areas for the kitties.
“There are a lot of cat trees in here,” I remark to Ethel.
“Oh, yes. Enough for each cat to have two of their own.” She chuckles again. “Drives him crazy.”
“He must really value you. I’ve had some cranky bosses who would’ve fired me if I set out to annoy them.”
“He loves me. You won’t ever hear him say it, but he does. I’ve known him since he was in diapers. I used to work with his mother. We were surgical nurses at the hospital in Ypsilanti.”
I nod knowingly. “Ah, so he has to put up with you. You’re like family.”
“Exactly.” She wiggles her eyebrows, causing me to laugh out loud again.
She sets a stack of papers in front of me. “Here you are. Just says you won’t steal, hurt the dogs, sue us if you get your hand bitten off, yada, yada…stuff like that. Though, if you want to take a cat, I’m sure he wouldn’t press charges.”
“I think I’m good on cats right now.”
“Not a cat person?” she asks.
“Not sure. Haven’t ever really been around them. But I’m also crashing with a friend right now, and I don’t think she’s going to want me bringing rescue animals home anytime soon.”
“Probably a safe bet,” Ethel agrees.
I sign the appropriate paperwork while a couple of fuzzy felines rub against my legs, purring loudly.
“You’re lucky. Xavier and his team of guys were in early today, and they finished cleaning all the kennels. So, you can start with the walking. You’ll be the dogs’ new best friend. They love going out. It will give you a chance to get to know them all, too.”
“Sounds great. I’m here to help in any way I can,” I tell her.
She grabs a leash off a hook on the wall and hands it to me. “I wouldn’t broadcast that just yet.” She winks. “Let’s start you off slow. You seem like a tough cookie, but I’m serious when I say, this job is really hard some days.”
First, she introduces me to Skye, an all-white pit bull mix. “Skye was abandoned in Detroit with her eight siblings when they were just puppies. She’s the last one left.”
“She hasn’t had anyone want to adopt her? She’s so pretty.”
“She’s had plenty of applications. Everyone wants a white pit bull. But all of the applications have fallen through so far. They’ve requested that we not spay her.”
“And that’s bad?” I wonder aloud.
“Oh, yes. There is no shortage of this breed. You can go into any shelter in the United States and find whatever type of bully breed you’re looking for. If someone doesn’t want her spayed, it’s because they want to breed her, and there’s no reason to breed pit bulls. There’re already too many. They get euthanized daily at a very high rate around the country. Also, unfortunately, many people who want to breed pitties also want to use the puppies for fighting or bait dogs. So, we never let a dog leave here that hasn’t been spayed or neutered.”
/> “What’s a bait dog?”
Ethel looks down. “You’ll get to meet some former bait dogs today. You’ll be able to tell by all of their scarring. It’s a dog that’s used to help the fighting dog build confidence and become more aggressive in the ring. They’re basically bitten to death.”
I gasp, “That’s horrible.”
“I’m telling ya, this line of work is not for the faint of heart.”
She gives me a few instructions on Skye, and I take her outside. I walk her on the leash until we’re in the fenced-in play area. After double-checking that the fence is secure, I let her off of her leash. She gallops through the snow like a bucking bronco, kicking her hind legs up like a bull. It’s hilarious, and I just laugh. She dives her nose into the snow and flicks it in the air.
“They should’ve named you Snow,” I tell her.
She’s one of the cutest things I’ve ever seen, so happy. Eventually, I take her back, knowing that there are many other dogs that want a turn to walk.
Once inside the shelter, I see that one of the formerly empty cages is now occupied by a skeletal, pregnant pup.
Poor thing.
I get Skye settled into her kennel and refill her water bowl before latching the door closed.
“How was she?” Ethel asks from behind me.
I turn to face her. “She was incredible. She loves the snow. She couldn’t stop dancing around. It was so cute.”
“She does love it,” Ethel agrees. “I wanted to introduce you to the man in charge. I don’t know if you noticed the new addition since you’ve been back?”
“Yeah, I saw her. Poor baby.”
“Yes, but the good news is that she won’t go hungry anymore, and her puppies won’t be left to fend for themselves on the streets of Detroit. After I introduce you to the boss, I was wondering if you’d like to help me give our new addition a bath before taking the next dog out.”
“Sure, I’d love to help.”
“Great. Bending over to wash the dogs really does a number on my back. I guess that’s a sign that I’m getting old.”
“Come on, you’re not old.” I playfully nudge her arm with mine as we make our way to the office.
