A New Leash on Life

by Suzie Carr

  I knew this to be true from Chloe who always tested her eyes on guys. “That’s why I’d never get tangled up with a bisexual ever again. I’d always have to worry if the girl wished I had a penis to help rock her world.”

  “For me, I like my freedom to choose. We’re all free spirits who thrive on special moments. I like to keep my options open. I don’t want to be boxed in. I enjoy my privacy and would never want to depend on another human being to fulfill me in ways I couldn’t fulfill myself.”

  I agreed.

  I never wanted a Henry in my life.

  I couldn’t be bothered. No one could be trusted with my heart. I’d dated over the years, but never committed. I refused to be that lesbian who pulled up in a U-Haul on the second date.

  Fuck love. I’d take freedom and guilt-free sex over the drama of a relationship any day.

  ~ ~

  Now that the town languished under a pool of water and threatened my shelter, I needed to focus more than ever on things I could control. After shaking off the sad sights of the television, I decided to call my friend Phil at the county jail and tell him to bring me the weakest and most vulnerable pets. I’d figure something out.

  The shelter, consisting of twenty dog kennels, a free roaming cat room with carpeted nooks and crannies, another room with various finches, parakeets, gerbils, ferrets and even a tarantula, buckled with the addition of new animals. Over the course of two days, Phil had brought in four more dogs and ten cats.

  He arrived around four o’clock that afternoon with our fifth dog in need of rehab. I placed her in the kennel closest to the isolation ward, to where Snowball struggled for her life. She snuggled up and pointed her big doe eyes at me. “You’ll be okay now, little girl.” I blew her a kiss and closed the gate. “I’ll be back to check on you in a few minutes.” Her concerned eyes followed me until I rounded the corner to where Phil stood staring at a chart describing dog breeds.

  “How many more do you think are out there?” I asked.

  He turned to me. “How many more can you take?”

  “Well, maybe if I get some temporary large crates, we can take on a few more.”

  “Olivia,” he cocked his head and adjusted his pants, which dragged down by the enormous gun holstered to his belt. “This could stretch on for longer than temporary.”

  “I’ll figure something out. It’s better than having them drown or starve.”

  “I’ve got an idea,” he said. He bit his lower lip and walked around back to the kennels. The dogs howled and barked. Some just stared at his burly figure, too scared to move. He counted the kennels. “Ben at the hardware store waited out the storm, too. I’m sure he’s got some fencing or plywood he wouldn’t mind donating. We could rig all of these kennels and double your capacity.”

  I pulled on his arm. “Would you talk to him for me?”

  “I’m on it.” He scanned the door leading to the isolation room. “Do you mind if I say hello?”

  I waved him to the door and he led the way.

  He walked up to Snowball’s kennel and stuck his finger through the bars. “Hey, little girl.” She rose, stretched and wobbled over to him, still sleepy from her meds. She licked his fingers and he scratched behind her ears.

  I opened the gate. “Go ahead. I know you want to snuggle.”

  He walked into her kennel and knelt down and Snowball hung her head low. He petted her between her ears and she relaxed into his touch. “Is she getting better?”

  “She’s coming along. It’s still too early to tell if she’s responding fully to the meds, though. Unfortunately, parvovirus digs its ugly fangs too deeply and can take over.”

  He cooed and hugged her. “You’re going to survive this. And when you get better and are ready for your first walk outside, Ms. Olivia is going to let me be the one to take you.”

  “You might have to fight Melanie on that one.”

  “Or maybe I’ll finally charm my way into her day and talk her into letting me come along.” He looked up at me and winked.

  He had a better chance of skyrocketing to the moon with an air compressor attached to his back. “Yeah, maybe.”

  Phil hinted often. Melanie pretended not to notice.

  “Listen, if no one comes for her, I want to adopt her.” He scratched behind her ears and she leaned into his touch more.

  “She certainly hopes so.” And, I wanted to add, Melanie just might consider a date with you after all, considering this new turn in Snowball’s future.

  He turned to me. “Take extra good care of her, okay?”

  I nodded, concerned for her health and for his premature emotional attachment to her.

  ~ ~

  In the weeks that followed the storm, the town started to rebuild. Cars started to drive down the street again. Joggers ran past the shelter again. Moms with small children and dogs walked past. Even Snowball bounced back after a series of successful rounds on strong meds. Everything started to spring back to life, all except the leaky roof, the cracked concrete in the kennel walls, the overcrowded double kennels, and of course the absence of many donation checks.

  We arranged a pancake breakfast, complete with a volunteer from K-9 Trainers and the usual hundred-person crowd we attracted didn’t come. Sadly, only two families showed for it and donated twenty dollars each. Worse, they didn’t bother to visit with the adoptable pets. We were used to adopting out several and cashing in several hundred from this type of event. We dumped a lot of pancake batter down the drain that day.

  We arranged a dog wash day another day. I purchased some donuts, coffee, and juice and waited for people to flow through the door to wash their doggies in our oversized sinks with the nifty ramp. The fifty or so people I usually got to attend that type of event didn’t show. I tossed out a few dozen donuts that day.

  “I don’t know what to do,” I said to Melanie one afternoon while she sat in Snowball’s kennel and channeled her energy to the sick dog. “The town is unresponsive.”

  “I can offer some reiki treatments if it’ll help. We’ll ask for a donation that is half the usual treatment price I charge at my studio.”

  “Can you afford to do that? Didn’t you lose a lot of clients this month?”

  “That’s why I’m here in the middle of the day.” She rubbed her hands together forming the energy ball and targeted it over Snowball’s tummy. “I’d rather be doing something productive than sitting around twiddling my thumbs.”

  “I’m afraid people aren’t even going to be willing to pay half price for reiki treatments. Everyone is strapped waiting on help from the government.”

  The end of the month raced towards us and I had no extra funding after paying the overhead bills to fix the structural problems in the shelter. I had to cancel our usual spot in the Valley Breeze Community Newspaper because I needed the cash to cover the extra kibble needed to feed double the hungry mouths. So, I relied on my website to pique the interest of potential adopters.

  “Give it time,” Melanie said, stretching her hands the full length of Snowball. “Everything will come back around.”

  The townspeople strained to dig up money to fund their own rehabilitation projects. I needed help sooner than later. “It’ll be months before any of us see funding to get us the repairs we all need.”

  “You’re killing my energy here,” she said, stopping.

  “I’m sorry. I’ll let you be.” I backed away and she returned her focus to Snowball.

  I walked down the kennel aisle and looked into the hopeful eyes of dog after dog. They relied on me, and I needed to step up to the challenge. I needed to look beyond the town and somehow get outsiders to understand our plight. I knew just who to turn to.

  When Josh answered, sounding rushed and surely on his way out the door to one of his son’s many baseball practices, I cut right to it. “I need your help with getting someone up here to interview me.”

  He cleared his throat. “I’m a production assistant, not the general manager of the network.”<
br />
  “Do what you can, please.”

  “Is it that bad?”

  “Worse,” I said.

  “I’d loan you some, but I’m barely able to pay my mortgage each month.”

  “I just need a reporter, cameraman, and some coverage outside the scope of Elkwood.”

  “I’ll see what I can do. It’ll cost you a night of babysitting your nephew if I succeed.”

  “Done.”

  “Fine,” he said. “Oh, and,” he blew out a breath, “I read something troubling last week.”

  “Hint, please.”

  “Did you know Melanie’s house is in foreclosure?”

  “That’s absurd. She and Henry inherited that house from his parents like twenty years ago.”

  “Well, I went there for a treatment the other day and when she went to the bathroom, I went to get myself a glass of water and the notice was on the counter, opened. Maybe after Henry died, she took out an equity line of credit.”

  After Henry died and she moved back in to the house, she gutted out the living room and turned it into a reiki studio. She also bought a new four-wheel drive truck and took a vacation to Spain for two months. “Anything’s possible.” Her clutter entered my mind, and I dreaded the day she’d ask for help in clearing it out. I couldn’t deal with one more thing on my plate. “I’m not going to bring it up. So, you don’t either, okay?”

  “I’m heading over there for a reiki treatment tomorrow. I’ll do my best.”

  “I’ll babysit for you if you can manage an interview,” I said.

  “Done.”

  ~ ~

  Working in a shelter required lots of patience and emotional control. Some of the pets had been abused, malnourished, unloved for years. Many arrived wagging their tails anticipating a fun field trip with their owners only to be discarded at our front desk with a pat on the head and a shrug. He’s too much work. She pees in the house. He sheds too much. He barks all the time. She’s just too big. As a responsible guard of animal welfare, a shelter worker simply thanked the person for not abandoning their pet on the side of the road. Lecture these people and they’d do that next time, for sure.

  So, we’d take the animals back, and I’d examine their shaky bodies as they stressed over when their master would return for them and bring them back home to where they belonged. My heart broke every time I had to place them in a kennel all alone without a window to gaze out, without a couch to climb up on, without a master to please.

  I wanted to take them all home with me. I wanted to cook them homemade chicken and rice with a dash of pumpkin and cuddle up with them on the couch and watch American Idol. I wanted to dress them up in cute clothes and take them on long runs through the park. I wanted to spend time sitting on a park bench, reading a book, and glancing up from time to time to catch them smiling and wagging their tails as they scoped out squirrels hoarding acorns.

  Unfortunately my dreams for this happy-go-lucky life never panned out quite like I’d wished. I could only sit with them for minutes at a time, clip their nails, bathe them in soothing warm water, feed them beef and chicken cookies, and comfy up their kennels with blankets, bed pillows, and fun toys. I fostered several cats, but I couldn’t foster the dogs as easily because of my crazy schedule. I spent more time at the shelter than I did at my apartment.

  Natalie, equally as sensitive to shelter life as I was, would spend hours cuddled up in kennels, petting, nurturing and talking with the dogs. She’d move in to the shelter if I let her.

  That afternoon, Natalie choked back tears when I looked in on her and our newest arrival. “He won’t let me put a leash around him. He needs to pee. It’s been hours. He won’t pee in his kennel.”

  I stood beside Natalie in front of the scared dog’s kennel. He avoided us from the back of it, whimpering. I’d seen this too many times before to understand only a good dose of respect and love would work to gain his trust.

  I showed him a cookie and he sniffed the air, refusing to meet my eye.

  I waited.

  After ten minutes, I knelt down beside his kennel, bowing my head, sending him love and energy the way Melanie had taught me to do. Natalie took a seat on a stool several feet away, out of his sight.

  Every few minutes, he crept a little closer to me. I imagined us sitting together on a grassy hill overlooking a clean, fresh lake. My arm draped around his neck, his mouth opened slightly to enjoy the cool breeze. I’d hug him and he’d lean into my safety and love. Stoic and strong he’d relax as we watched birds fly overhead and listen to cicadas chirp a lovely song.

  I imagined all of this with my head bowed. I didn’t look at him. I simply sat still, breathing, meditating, and sending vibes of safety and love to him. Close to fifteen minutes later, he crept over to me, slowly, steadily, his head bowed, his tail tucked between his legs, a whimper here and there.

  I inched my eyes up to meet him. “Come on, boy. It’s okay. You’re safe here.”

  He stretched his neck as far as it would allow and sniffed the cookie. He froze, staring at the cookie, no doubt contemplating his craving.

  “Here,” I placed the cookie down in front of me. “Come get it.”

  He stared at it. Drool fell to the cement. His head hung to the same level as his belly, low, barely half a foot from the floor. I scooted backwards, allowing him the freedom to get his prize. He sauntered a few more feet and when close enough, he snatched it up into his hungry mouth. He dared to look up at me once he swallowed. He sniffed some more. I offered another cookie. “Come on. You know you want it.” He inched towards me. Finally, as gentle as a summer breeze, he opened his mouth just wide enough to snag the cookie from my fingers. “That a boy.”

  I savored the tender moment.

  He circled in closer and smelled my hand, snuggling up to the scent left behind by the cookies. I stroked his neck and he licked my hand. I rose to my feet and he didn’t budge. I dropped another cookie to his left, just far enough away so I wouldn’t frighten him when I stepped inside his domain. He gobbled the cookie and watched me step inside. I offered one more treat in the palm of my hand, and when he licked it from my open palm, I looped the leash around his neck and petted him. He allowed me to pet him without whimpering. I looked over at Natalie. She wiped a trail of tears from her cheeks. “You’re amazing.”

  I accepted the compliment with a smile and led him out of the kennel and towards the back door to the fenced open area. “I can’t imagine doing anything else with my life.”

  Natalie trailed behind. “We are not letting a few lost dollars close this place. My uncle will help find someone to repair the roof and put this place back together again.”

  I watched my new furry friend walk with his head high. He stopped near a bush and peed like he’d been saving it his whole life. “I don’t care if I have to stand on the interstate wearing flashing lights and a string bikini to gather attention, we’re going to find help.”

  Natalie blushed and kicked the ground. “Well, alleluia, then.”

  Chapter Five

  Transparency between best friends should be natural law. The principle of the universe that binds atoms and molecules together, ensuring they all activate in a timely efficient manner, should surely be at play with this critical component of human interaction. Best friend trust perched high up on the list of necessities to keep the flow smooth, right alongside the rising and setting of the sun, the ebb and flow of the tide, the rotation of the earth on its axis.

  That afternoon, as I prepped for my news interview, I asked Melanie how life was treating her and she smiled. Not a big, stretched out, exaggerated smile, the likes you’d expect from someone harboring a secret as big as being kicked to the curb at fifty years of age. Nope, her smile mirrored her genuine and pleasant spirit, sitting on her face like a pretty daisy in full bloom, radiating everything peaceful and right in the world.

  As the girl from the evening news smoothed a thick creamy foundation all over my virgin skin, Melanie showered me with smil
es, coaching me not to stress over the interview – even though she and I both knew that forty dogs, several dozen cats, and many other beautiful animals counted on this interview to keep a roof over their heads and food in their bellies.

  “We need this to work,” I said to her.

  “Relax.” She gripped my shoulder. “Everything always works out. You’re not going to lose the place because several million raindrops toppled the town. People will pull together. You watch and see.”

  “I’m dreading this. I’m always the one who provides the help, never the one in need.”

  “Breathe,” she said.

  “You never lose control. Nothing ever seems to rattle you.” I eyed her carefully, allowing her a few precious seconds to ponder her words and segue into a conversation about her home. Nothing. Just that motherly, guiding smile she always displayed in the wake of wise words.

  The girl brushed my face with a powder, applied some mascara and lipstick and held up a mirror for me to see her hard work. A stranger with rosy cheeks, sparkling eyes, and full lips stared back at me. I looked more ready to give an interview on a red carpet than break out a heart-wrenching story about poor, helpless animals in dire need of supplies and donations. I rubbed my cheeks, and blotted my lips with a napkin. I hated wearing makeup, just like I hated wearing dresses and carrying pocketbooks. Give me a wallet, a pair of jeans and a set of sneakers any day.

  “Too much?” the girl with overdone eyes asked.

  “A bit.” I stood up from the stool and ruined the smoothing blowout she did by pulling my hair back into its usual knot at the nape of my neck. I headed over to the reporter, a primped brunette with flipped layers resting nicely at her shoulders and dewy skin. She looked the type who ran marathons, snacked on carrot sticks and apples and blanketed her skin in expensive moisturizers. She didn’t smile, though. She wore a blank face even when Natalie tripped over a cord snaking around the desk.

  “I’m ready,” I said.