by Rick R. Reed
He glanced over at his indulgent sister, who was getting out of the car, and waved his hand in front of his face. “Make that peas and carrots.”
But when they got home and Aaron set Mavis gently down on the floor to see what she would do, the first thing she did was to scurry under Becca’s bed.
“Should I pull her out?” Becca asked, getting down on all fours and lifting the dust ruffle to look under the bed.
“Good Lord, no. You’ll scare her even more.” Aaron joined his sister on the floor and peered under the bed. Mavis had retreated to the wall against which the bed was shoved and regarded brother and sister with wary eyes.
“I think we should just leave her alone. She’ll come out when she’s ready.”
“Are you sure? Maybe we can tempt her with one of these toys or a treat.”
Aaron shook his head. He knew what it was like to need your space, to need time to be alone, and coaxing Mavis out this early in the game would be doing her no favors. “I’ll just make her food, and maybe the smell of it cooking will tempt her out.”
“And if it doesn’t?”
“Then we’ll just let her be. She can’t stay under there forever.”
But apparently she could. When bedtime rolled around, Miss Mavis still kept her own counsel under the bed, despite a bowl of delicious brown rice and chicken placed on the floor at the edge of the bed and soft-spoken encouragement from both Aaron and Becca. Mavis did not emerge even to meet Max, Becca’s Maine coon, who suddenly looked a lot bigger when compared to the diminutive Boston. Max was curious about Mavis, but not curious enough to go near her. He lay down just under the dust ruffle to observe her until Aaron shooed him away, thinking the cat must certainly be an impediment to the dog venturing out to join them.
Chapter 3
WHEN SUNDAY morning arrived, Aaron awakened early. The sun was just beginning to filter in through the sheer curtains Becca had placed at the windows, and the sky outside was gray with a pink tinge. He sat up on his air mattress, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, and glanced over at the bowl of food he had put out for Mavis. It remained untouched, just next to his sister’s bed. Becca’s even breathing let him know his sister was still asleep. Aaron frowned. The bowl was filled with ground chicken thighs, soft brown rice, and peas and carrots, all cooked up lovingly in a broth of good chicken stock. What dog could resist that?
His heart skipped a beat as he wondered if Mavis was even still breathing. She was a frail thing; perhaps the shock of leaving the confines of the shelter and her crate and coming to a new and strange home had been more than her little heart could bear. He didn’t know her history, but Mavis’s behavior indicated she had been treated very badly in her previous home—neglected certainly, but maybe even abused. Aaron didn’t want to think of the dog cowering under a bed in some other home after being beaten or screamed at.
He lay back down and rolled over so he could look beneath his sister’s bed. Mavis, he was relieved to see, was not dead, although she was lying down, her forepaws crossed in front of her. She lifted her head. Her smashed nose wiggled, probably at Aaron’s scent. He wondered if she recognized him. In the dim light under the bed, across the dust bunnies and discarded pairs of Becca’s designer shoes, human and canine eyes met.
“What’s the matter, girl?” Aaron said softly. Mavis cocked her head, so Aaron knew he had her attention. “You can’t stay under there all day, for Pete’s sake. Aren’t you hungry?” Her pointed ears went up when he said the word hungry. “Yeah, that got your attention.”
Aaron scooted off the air mattress and grabbed the bowl of food, which had gone cold. Since it had been out all night, he scooped it into the trash and refilled it with a mixture of his fresh home-blend and a couple of tablespoons of kibble for crunch. He popped it into the microwave, warmed it briefly, and returned to the living area to set the food back in its place.
“Come on, Mavis. You know you want to eat.” He scooted the bowl a little farther under the bed, closer to her sniffing snout. She regarded the bowl warily, then laid her head down between her paws, staring at him.
Could a dog starve to death with food right in front of it? Aaron’s heart lurched at the thought that perhaps Mavis had lost her will to live. She would never eat again, never come out from under his sister’s bed. No, she would remain under there until she’d wasted away to nothing, never making a sound, never a move.
He couldn’t let that happen. But what could he do? Aaron couldn’t imagine forcing the dog to come out; that approach only seemed guaranteed to traumatize the terrified creature even more. Dragging her out would be tantamount to further abuse.
Sighing, he shoved the food farther under the bed. He thought maybe if Mavis had even more time alone, she would eat something, grow a tiny bit more comfortable in her new home. Thankful for his deep-sleeping sister, he wandered into the bathroom, where he splashed some water on his face and brushed his teeth. Back in the living area, both females were either asleep or out of sight as Aaron slid into a pair of running tights, T-shirt, a fleece, and his Asics.
The fall colors were just beginning to flourish, the sun was now up over the Cascades, and a run around the lake would be just the thing to clear Aaron’s head. He was glad his sister lived so close to the lake and its surrounding park with its three-mile trail at the water’s edge. Aaron had a passion for running, and the proximity allowed him to indulge that passion with little hassle.
Plus in the back of his mind was one thought—maybe if he left Mavis alone, she would feel brave enough to eat or even venture out to check out her new, very small, yet comfortable home. Wouldn’t it be wonderful to return after his run to find the food bowl empty and Mavis curled up on his air mattress, burrowed into his comforter?
Aaron slipped out into the crisp October air, pausing outside his sister’s apartment building to text her: Went for a run. Be back soon. Do not force Mavis out! Love ya!
He set off.
HE DID two laps around the lake—six miles—and returned loose, sweaty, and invigorated. He couldn’t wait for the shower. He also couldn’t wait to see if Mavis had, at the very least, poked her head out from under the bed.
Just as he got into the vestibule, his cell phone rang. He withdrew it from his pocket and looked down at the display. Unknown caller.
Aaron shrugged, leaned against the wall outside Becca’s door, and pushed Accept.
“Hello?” Aaron’s voice was just above a whisper. It was, after all, a Sunday morning, early, and Becca’s neighbors might still be sleeping.
“Hi. Is this Aaron?”
“Yeah. Who’s this?”
There was a pause. “You might not remember me. Oh, what am I talking about? Of course you remember me. We just met yesterday.” Another pause. “Sorry. I’m a little nervous. This is Christian, from the Humane Society?”
Aaron pictured the young and stocky blond man. He remembered him being cute and caring. But why was he calling at—he glanced at his Swatch—9:00 a.m. on a Sunday morning? And where did he get his number?
“Oh sure, I remember you. You were really helpful… and nice.”
Neither man said anything for a beat.
Aaron spoke again, “Um, how did you get my number?”
“Oh, don’t you remember? It was on the form you filled out.”
Aaron felt a little annoyed. That form was for the Humane Society, not Christian’s personal use. It was nice of him to call, but Aaron felt it was a little inappropriate for him to be calling, unless it was in an official capacity. The day, the hour, and Christian’s obvious nervousness told Aaron there was nothing “official” about the call. Still, he asked, “So… are you calling in an official capacity?”
“Well, not exactly. But I did want to hear how our little Mavis was doing. And how you’re doing with her.” Christian barked out a small, nervous laugh. “Consider this contact as going above and beyond the call of duty.”
Aaron thought, but didn’t say, that it was most likely going ab
ove and beyond the rules of the Humane Society. Still, he didn’t understand why he was annoyed. The guy was cute, and everything about him, both now and yesterday, indicated he was very interested in Aaron.
Maybe it was the timing. New relationships were being forged way too quickly. First the dog and now this guy. Aaron wasn’t sure why he said it, or why he persisted in being such a stickler for the rules, but the questions were out of his mouth before consideration or decorum prevented him from uttering the words. “So, is it okay for you to take a client’s number off the form? And use it for your personal use? What are you… just a volunteer?”
Aaron felt his cheeks grow hotter and hotter as he listened to the silence on the other end. He knew he had probably put the poor guy in a very uncomfortable position. And all he could think was: Why? Maybe, he answered himself, it has something to do with what you just thought—that relationships are being forged too quickly here in the Emerald City, and I need some space. It’s natural, I guess, to push people away. Even Aaron wasn’t convinced of this line of reasoning.
“Look, I’m sorry,” he mumbled into the phone. “I don’t know why I’m being such a bitch.”
Christian laughed, the tension at least marginally broken. “Hey, in my line of work, bitches are a fact of life.”
Aaron chuckled, feeling more at ease. He allowed himself to slide down against the wall so he was sitting on the hallway floor, his legs stretched out before him.
Christian spoke. “You’re right, anyway. It’s completely against the rules for me to call you like this, unless I’m at the shelter and truly working as a representative, which today I am not. Sorry. I thought you were cute. And if it makes any difference at all, I have never pulled something like this before.”
“You mean you don’t call up all the cute guys you run across?”
“Well, I do, but not when I ‘run across’ them in my work as a volunteer.”
Aaron waited for him to say something more. “So?”
“So, I was calling partly to say hi and partly, truly, to see how Mavis was doing. That little girl has had a rough time of it. And I was hoping for some good news.”
Aaron could have lied and painted a rosy picture of a happy, grateful dog in her new home. It shamed him a bit to think that Mavis had been with him now for more than twenty-four hours and was still traumatized. Aaron was cautious. “She hasn’t quite, um, come out of her shell yet.”
“I’m not surprised. Mavis has been through a lot.”
Aaron didn’t want to go down a path that would lead them back into Mavis’s history. A quick image of the dog shivering beside a dumpster flashed in his head, and he felt his heart tear just a tiny bit.
Christian’s voice jarred him. “So, how’s she doing? Behaving?”
Aaron let the words out in a rush. “She’s been hiding under the bed ever since we got her home.”
“Oh dear.”
“I’ve tried everything—coaxing, treats, making her a tasty dinner out of the best ingredients, stuff I think any dog would love. She just cowers under the bed.”
“And doesn’t even come out for a potty break?”
Aaron felt his face heat up again. He hadn’t even thought about Mavis’s most basic biological needs. He had not taken her outside once. Was she holding it? Or were there, right now, piles and puddles underneath his slumbering sister? Would the smell wake her?
“No, not even that.” Aaron was appalled. He needed to get to Mavis right now. “Listen, I just got back from a run and haven’t even been back into the apartment yet. I need to go check on her.” Aaron felt a wellspring of shame and fear rush up in him; Mavis was in his care, and what was he doing? Out running? Talking to some hottie on the phone? Good moves! Surprisingly helpful!
She needs you, stupid. Get in there and see what you can do.
“I was wondering if we could—”
Aaron cut Christian off. “Not now. I’ll talk to you later, okay?” And without giving Christian a chance to respond, he pushed End Call.
Chapter 4
THE SMELL greeted him as soon as he opened the door. Perhaps it had been there even before he left, but he had just gotten accustomed to it. But now, with his lungs full of lakefront autumn air, the smell of urine and feces festered in the tiny studio apartment.
This wasn’t going to work. He had to take her back.
An image of Mavis eating part of a hamburger someone had discarded on the ground sprang, unbidden, into his mind’s eye.
He couldn’t take her back. Some bonds were made swiftly with quick-drying emotional cement.
Becca sat up in bed, her red hair tangled and sticking up in front. If it weren’t for her overly developed bust, she would have looked like a child in her dinosaur pajamas. “It stinks in here,” she moaned.
“No kiddin’. Has she come out from under the bed at all?”
“I don’t know. I just woke up.”
“Some parents we are. Do you really think we’re up for this? Was this a good idea?” Aaron squatted down beside the bed, lifting the dust cover, and peered into the dust and shadows.
Mavis wasn’t there.
His heart skipped a beat. Where could she be? He then noticed the bowl of food was, at last, mercifully, empty. Not even a pea remained.
He got up to his knees and regarded Becca on the bed. “She’s missing.”
“Well, she can’t have gone far. As you so kindly pointed out, this studio is only around 600 square feet.”
“And that enormous cat of yours is just big enough to have eaten her,” Aaron teased.
Becca ignored the remark and swung her legs over the side of the bed to help Aaron search the apartment.
It didn’t take long to put out an all-points bulletin and then have it promptly canceled.
They found Mavis in the bathroom, hunkered down beside the wicker hamper in the corner of the room. Aaron peered over the top, and she looked up at him with doleful eyes.
“I’m sorry I didn’t take you out this morning. But I’m more than ready to make up for it now, if you’ll let me.”
“So you take her out for a stroll and I clean up her mess in here?” Becca stood behind him, in the bathroom entrance.
Aaron sighed. “I will do both. Just give me a chance.”
Becca wandered out of the bathroom. Aaron moved the hamper aside so he could sit down on the floor next to the dog. “My sister and you,” he whispered, “have a lot in common—you’re both bitches.”
Mavis seemed to understand. She moved closer to Aaron. Slowly and very cautiously, talking in a low and comforting voice all the while, Aaron reached out with his hand until it was resting on top of Mavis’s head. “That’s a good girl. Daddy loves you. Nothing to be afraid of.” He massaged behind her ears and rubbed the little black thumbprint of fur crowning the top of her mostly white head. Mavis edged nearer, and finally Aaron was able to scoop her up in his arms. She trembled but made no move to get down. Standing, he cradled her close and returned to the living area, scratching gently behind Mavis’s ears as he walked.
She stopped trembling, pressing in close to Aaron.
“I’m going to try and take her out for a walk,” Aaron said to Becca’s sprawled legs. She was half under the bed.
“Great idea,” she groaned. “I’ve almost got this mess all cleaned up.”
“Thanks, sis. But I would have taken care of that.”
“It’s okay. Miss Mavis here was my idea too.”
Aaron was relieved to hear not even the smallest trace of resentment in his sister’s tone. He squatted down and, keeping one hand lightly on Mavis’s back, reached for the harness and leash he had purchased for her the day before. Mavis gamely let him put them on her, only slightly trying to pull away. Aaron stood and tugged on the leash. “Come on, girl, let’s head outside. Go for a walk, get some fresh air.” He tried to put some enthusiasm in his voice, to make the words “outside” and “walk” sound like the sweetest treats a girl could have.
But Mavis was unconvinced. Once he had her suitably harnessed and leashed—and, he thought, looking quite smashing in the red patent leather ensemble he had selected—Mavis sat down on her haunches and stared up at him as if saying, “What? You want me to move? Get real. I like it here.”
Aaron tugged again, trying to get the dog to put one paw in front of the other, but she was going nowhere. At last Aaron simply lifted her up and carried her out the door, the leash trailing behind them like the tail Mavis never had.
Outside, he set her down, and Mavis wandered from the walk and into the grass, where she sniffed briefly, then almost immediately squatted and peed. She trotted up to him after she was finished… up to him and past him. Now it was Mavis’s turn to tug, and Aaron gamely followed along.
Mavis headed for the front door.
“Don’t you want to go for a walk? The sun’s shining, and there’ll be lots of dogs down at the lakefront.”
Mavis regarded one of the two shrubs outside the front door with fascination.
Aaron shook his head. “I guess you’re a no-nonsense kind of girl. Get your business done and get back inside, right? Well, we’ll have to work on that.” One of the things Aaron had imagined when he adopted the dog was long walks together. He wasn’t ready to give up on that particular fantasy yet.
He opened both the outer door and the door to Becca’s apartment. Mavis trotted through both.
And scurried promptly under the bed without looking back.
Aaron shut his eyes in frustration.
She remained there—barring one more quick run outside for a pee break—until well into the afternoon. Becca and Aaron decided around one to go out for some lunch, thinking, again, that maybe if Mavis had a little solitude in which to experience her new home, she might venture out and see that it was so much better than whatever hell she had lived in before.
