Chapter 4
The Fairview County Animal Shelter clearly looked new. Its metal doors shimmered in the late afternoon Colorado sunshine as the newly planted, diminutive bushes swayed with the late spring breeze. Mountain granite landscaping rocks surrounded the newly planted ash and aspen trees and mugo pine shrubs. No weeds, yet, peaked through the landscaping fabric that curtailed their inevitable emergence. The sidewalk and steps lay perfectly smooth and even, free from cracks, weathering, or any significant signs of aging. It was a one story building constructed primarily out of rhyolite. Most of the structures in the old, historic part of town were made of rhyolite and the shelter’s builder apparently wanted to keep that same tradition with this new construction.
The valley’s rich rhyolite cache came from prehistoric volcanic eruptions that blanketed the Colorado southern Front Range over 35 million years ago. 19th century settlers mined the local mesas and buttes, and Pine Valley flourished as the railroads hauled the rock throughout the state for settlers to build their towns. Pine Valley was no different as the early town’s people made use of its ample supply in building the Pine Valley City Hall, the Roth Howard Bank & Trust, the Fairview County Courthouse, the Rio Grande railroad depot, churches, schools, and most of the businesses that sat along Main Street’s 6 block stretch, which included the present day Grounds For Divorce Coffee. The signature stone became Pine Valley’s early calling card, fully promoted by the local freemasons at their weekly meetings inside their rhyolite Masonic lodge. But supplies were in short demand today, and finding new rhyolite construction was uncommon.
Nick perused the parking lot. A gray Honda Accord sat at the farthest stall from the front door. Its dented front fender and faded, splotchy hood probably belonged to a low wage worker saddled with less than glamorous tasks such as cleaning kennels and feeding the lost beasts that surely resided inside this throwback building. Nick glanced back at his 9 year old Ford F-150 pickup truck, realizing he wasn’t far off from being in the same boat. Not good for a 36 year old guy, rapidly approaching his next birthday in three short months.
Nick parked in front of the steps that led to the front door. He jumped out of the truck, and took the steps two at a time, and reached for the metal door. Before pulling it open, he eyed the Honda a second time and noticed a Harley Davidson Road King motorcycle with a sidecar parked on the other side. Nick did not see himself as a motorcycle aficionado, but his father had been something of a bike nut, and Nick had been exposed to Harleys, Indians, Yamahas, and the like growing up. The Road King was the biggest of the Harleys and definitely was one of Nick’s favorites. The sidecar really made it stand out as the chromed handlebars and exhaust pipes reflected the brilliant sunlight and accented the gas tank’s deep blue metallic paintjob.
Nick’s hand fumble for the door as his eyes stay fixed on the motorcycle at the far end of the parking lot. Once his hand re-found the door, he stepped into the dull roar of chaotic howls, barks, and canine yelps. A reception area was set up immediately in front of him, and a young man sat behind the counter. The walls were adorned with a variety of pictures depicting cats, dogs, birds, hamsters, gerbils, snakes, ferrets, potbelly pigs, and a few animals that Nick failed to recognize. The dog’s noise seemed to intensify as if they instinctively knew a perspective owner had just walked through the door, and this was their big opportunity to find a new home. Nick shoved his hands in his pockets and shuffled his feet toward the front counter.
“May I help you, sir?” the young man seated behind the counter inquired. Nick kept his hands in his pocket and raised his bowed head. The young man’s weak beard showed a few days of growth, and a pair of thin framed glasses rested on the bridge of his narrow, pointy nose. His cheeks sucked in around his boney face and his eyes had a sleepy quality to them. Nick swore he had a turtle-like appearance.
“Yeah, I, uh, I’m looking for a dog, I guess,” Nick said. For a guy who loathed committal, Nick’s words and demeanor did not betray his innermost thoughts and feelings.
“You guess?” asked a feminine voice. Unaware of another person, Nick craned his head forward and leaned his body over the front edge of the counter toward the direction this unseen woman.
“No, I’m pretty sure it’s a dog. I’m just a little new to this whole shelter thing. Actually, I’m a complete novice, so I don’t really know what to expect.”
“It’s O.K., I’m just messing with you,” said the woman. As she spoke, Nick heard her footsteps leading his direction, and he kept his eyes glued to her impending appearance. “We don’t usually do that on Tuesdays, because we’re too drained from the illegal cock fighting tournaments we hold every Monday night.”
“Oh, I get it. A little new guy hazing. Maybe next time you can…,” Nick unsuccessfully tried to complete. Instead he stood there with his mouth slightly open staring at what he thought was the most beautiful woman he’d seen in quite some time. Her long strawberry blonde hair hung casually across her shoulders. Her full pink lips blended flawlessly against her freckled complexion. He even noticed her light green eyes. He wasn’t sure if he’d ever met somebody with green eyes and freckles. He stood motionless, mesmerized by his ocular senses.
“Maybe next time I can finish your sentence?” the woman asked with raised eyebrows and a curious grin on her face. Nick’s mind snapped out of its self-imposed catatonic trance, and he withdrew his hands from his pockets and began rubbing them against his faded blue jeans.
“OK, yeah, you got it,” Nick stammered. The woman pushed her hands inside a white lab coat and cocked her head at Nick’s answer and smiled.
“Nah, I’ll let you do it. I wouldn’t want to put words in your mouth. You might end up leaving with a boa constrictor we’ve had around here a little longer than I’d prefer.”
“Oh, yeah, no thanks on the snakes,” Nick replied with slightly more composure. Get yourself together, he told himself. You’re acting like some goofball freshman who just had the lead varsity cheerleader acknowledge him. She’s just another attractive woman.
“I’m going around back, so I can show you what we’ve got. You OK flying solo on the front desk, Melvin?” Nick’s eyes shot away from the object of his desires and returned his attention to the seated young man. Holy crap, he looks like a freaking turtle and his name’s actually Melvin? What are the odds, Nick thought.
“Just go through the first door on your right and I’ll meet you back where the kennels are located,” she directed.
“Got it,” Nick said to the woman. “Thanks for your help, Melvin,” Nick said as he smiled at the striking familiarity this guy had to his first ill-fated pet. Nick picked up his pace and spun on the balls of his feet as he pushed the door latch down. He pulled the door open and a swoosh of air rushed passed his face. He didn’t want to waste a second if this woman was going to be showing him the dogs.
The kennel area was brightly lit with animals in a variety of Plexiglas kennels. Nick expected the place to reek of animal odors, but instead it was no different than the reception area he just left. The tile floors shimmered a generic industrial white glare, and the builder grade taffy white walls did little to liven the joint up. The kennels formed a U shape, with smaller animals on the left side, stacked on top of each other as you looked down the row. Nick eyed a few rabbits, hamsters, and other rodent like creatures scurrying on exercise wheels or nestled into wood shavings. As he scanned down the rows, he saw cats, some grossly obese, others clearly underfed, in a sea of grays, whites, blacks, oranges, and browns.
The worker’s door from the reception area opened, and Nick’s new love interest sauntered into the room. She carried in a box, which she set down on the floor. Nick couldn’t resist as he stared at her short white lab coat rise over her hips as she bent over. Her well-rounded bottom perfectly filled out her Levis, much to Nick’s voyeuristic pleasure. He knew he should feel some type of guilt for this indulgence, but his conscien
ce remained clear. Yes, he decided, this is a good thing. It’s perfectly fine to enjoy God’s handiwork. Now guilt began to creep in as he used faith to justify lust. After all, he didn’t know this woman, so love wasn’t yet a factor, which left behind simple depravity. Love? Damn, I’m so weak he thought.
“Are you OK?” she inquired. Nick realized he’d been so lost in his own thoughts, he’d missed her turn around and stick her hand out to greet him.
“OK? Oh, yes I’m good. Sorry, just a little preoccupied.” Come on Nick, get yourself together, he chastised himself. You’re acting like an idiot in front of this goddess. He reached out his hand and clasped her hand in his. The warmth of her hand contrasted sharply with the coldness of Nick’s digits. Cold hands, warm heart danced inside his discombobulated thoughts.
“I’m Shauna,” she stated. Nick immediately regressed to his college years and remembered the movie pornography stash his sophomore year roommate kept in green trash bags by the television. In particular, he remembered the porn star, Shauna West. Nick became infatuated with this porn star for a solid year of college. At one point he chose this video girlfriend rather than one of flesh and bone. Not one of his prouder moments, but he eventually evolved. Seriously, why did her name have to be Shauna?
“The dogs vary in age and condition, but most are at least a year old and in good shape,” Shauna continued. “Some are strays that people have brought in, some are dogs that the owners felt they could no longer care for and gave to us. None of the dogs have any maladjustment issues or are dangerous to the best of our knowledge.”
Yeah, but do they jerk off in their roommates socks while imagining you on all fours doing it doggy style, Nick pondered? And if so, is that really unnatural? These thoughts were not helping as he felt himself regressing more and more by the second. He took a moment, shut his eyes tight, and purged the unwanted images from his mind. He needed to refocus, or he’d completely unravel in no time flat.
“Are you looking for a particular size dog?” Shauna asked.
“I’m preferably looking for one that does not feel inclined to eat me or any of the neighborhood children. Is that a size? Maybe I should just get a random sampling of canine jaw widths,” Nick joked. He began to feel a bit looser and less self-conscious that this woman met every physical criteria for his future wife checklist, barring of course the nude inspection. Who was he kidding? The handshake sealed the deal for him. Nick was amazed how many different directions he mind wandered in a split second.
“Well, if you’re going to be picky, maybe this isn’t going to work out at all,” Shauna replied grinning from ear to ear.
Ah, a sarcastic sense of humor Nick thought. This is great.
“I’m going to run around back and check on water. Feel free to check them out and I’ll be right back to answer any questions or let you have some one on one time with one of them.” Shauna walked to the back door, and Nick kept his eyes focused on her the whole way. She definitely had an athletic build and seemed to have all the right curves in all of the right places. It made Nick wish he did more with his gym membership other than keep up his dues.
Nick walked over to the side of the room with the dogs and strolled down the aisle. The first dog was named Ginger. She was 8 years old and had lived on a working farm and was good with children according to the quick blurb written next to her picture. She needed plenty of room to run, lots of attention, and would be a great addition to any family.
The dog in the next kennel was a clear-cut mutt, with short tan fur, pointy ears, and a size that made Nick think he looked like a dingo. Roberto was a high energy dog that was found on the side of Highway 26 approximately 3 months earlier. Roberto showed some adjustment issues, but was ready for a loving home. Nick wondered what an adjustment issue might mean. Roberto canted his head to the side and stared at Nick. Nick felt a vague unease that Roberto might actually possess dark, ominous characteristics. Somewhat unnerved by Roberto, he continued walking
The next kennel gave him reason to stop dead in his tracks. In was not because the orange, brown, black, and white St. Bernard that sat on his hind haunches seemed particularly large and regal inside his cramped quarters, because he certainly did. It was not because he appeared to be in robust health. It had nothing to do with the fact this particular dog did not have a name listed on the placard located on the left upper side of his kennel like the previous two. And it was not because he was listed as just over two years old, just beyond the most destructive puppy years. No, it was because of the unmistakable sense that when he looked into this dog’s eyes, Nick heard an unfamiliar voice inside his head.
“Stay away from Roberto,” the unfamiliar voice said. “That old boy is plumb crazy.” Nick knew that he was alone in the room, but he looked from side to side, behind himself, and even up toward the ceiling. Nick took a step back from the kennel and stared back into the St. Bernard’s eyes. The dog returned the stare and gave Nick an unnatural sense that it could read him as well as Vincent at the GFD. Nick dragged his feet in a halfhearted motion toward the next kennel, not even reading the placard or looking at the collie mix that was fast asleep in the corner. His eyes remained fixed on the motionless St. Bernard that seemed to be engaged in an eyeball version of chicken with Nick. Nick was certain if it lasted much longer, the St. Bernard would win.
“What the frick?” Nick said out loud, not sure what to make of the situation.
“Something wrong?” asked Melvin as he walked through the door that Shauna had used minutes earlier from the front office. Nick looked Melvin’s direction and back at the St. Bernard who was now pacing in circles, trying to find a spot to lie down.
“No, I’m good,” Nick responded, still looking at the St. Bernard. Nick spun around and blurted out a question anyway. “Hey what’s this dog’s name?” Nick asked pointing at the St. Bernard’s kennel.
“Yeah, he’s new, and I’ve been off for the last four days,” Melvin replied. “Shauna hasn’t even worked up his rap sheet.”
“Rap sheet?”
“Oh, sorry,” Melvin said. “Not that they’re bad animals, but they are kind of held captive here. I just sort of made up the name “rap sheet” for the identification bio that’s on the kennels,” he said nervously. “Please don’t tell Shauna I said that. It’s just kind of a personal joke for me. They’re all good dogs, not prisoners. Even Roberto. Not that all prisoners are bad, I mean,” he said looking down at the ground. Melvin shot out his hand and grabbed a clipboard off the wall. He spun on his heels and returned through the same door back to the front office just as quickly as he entered into the room.
“Even Roberto?” Nick said to himself. “How ironic.”
Nick continued walking down the aisle as he thought of Melvin returning to his “protective shell.” Funny how different species can share so many similarities, he thought.
“You said it, brother,” that same unfamiliar voice said. Once again Nick stopped moving and stood perfectly still, trying to discern if he was truly alone in this room. A few seconds passed, and Shauna returned to the viewing room.
“See anyone that catches your eye?” she asked in a cheerful tone.
“More my ear,” Nick muttered in a low voice.
“I’m sorry,” Shauna said, leaning in to hear Nick better.
“Are you guys big fans of Candid Camera?” Nick asked. Shauna’s smile slightly dissipated, and she leaned backwards as she eyed Nick to determine if this was a serious question.
“Just kidding,” Nick said trying to return to a sense of normalcy. “What can you tell me about this St. Bernard?” he asked as he turned and faced the dog’s kennel. “He’s intriguing.”
“He certainly is. He got dropped off in the middle of the night at our front door. As far as we know he may have just wandered up to the door on his own. No tags, no identification, but in great shape. Somebody cared for this dog. At first we thou
ght he’d gotten loose from one of the hotels around the corner. You know, owners traveling, losing track of their dog while on the road. It happens a lot.”
“No luck, though?”
“No, and we canvassed the Holiday Inn Express, the Hampton Inn, and the Comfort Inn. We even put together a quick flyer with his photo and posted it at the hotels, a couple of businesses, and the Slippery Beaver, but no one ever called or came by. We just assumed somebody dropped him on the front steps and took off.
“Does that happen often?”
“That never happens, but we can’t explain it any other way. Somebody took care of the big guy. Are you interested in him?”
“Does he have a name?”
“It sounds kind of corny, but I’ve been calling him Bernie, being a St. Bernard and all. He actually responds to it. Kind of amazing. Actually, he’s pretty amazing.”
“How so?” Nick asked. Shauna paused before answering. Nick picked up on an uneasiness with her.
“It’s really hard to put my finger on it, but there’s something special about him. It’s like he understands what’s going on better than I do sometimes. He’s just one of those really smart dogs, I suppose.” Shauna shook her head up and down as if she was trying to convince herself. “And I absolutely love the heart shaped fur pattern on his chest. I thought about naming him Romeo or Cupid.”
“Really? I didn’t see that,” Nick said. He looked at the barely detectable outline of a heart on the dog’s chest as he contemplated why she seemed nervous all of a sudden.
“Yeah, you really need him to stretch out on his back to see it, but it’s there. Coolest fur pattern I’ve ever seen. He really speaks to me”
Nick decided to seize the opportunity and said, “Oh, yeah. What exactly does he say? Anything profound?”
Shauna hesitated and furrowed her brow. “I didn’t say I was crazy. It’s not like I’m having long conversations with him or reading him French poetry.” Shauna realized she came off a little defensive and added, “He’s just smarter than most dogs I see here, I suppose. And adorable, to boot.”
“So he doesn’t speak French, huh?” Nick mused trying to smooth things over. Nicked peered back around the side of the kennel and saw Bernie curled up into a giant furry ball, paying no attention to him or Shauna. Talking dogs. What was he thinking? Probably just got a little flustered with this woman. I’m definitely going to have to string this out for a while Nick thought. Make it a couple of trips before I decide on a dog, strike up a few conversations with Shauna in the process, and see where things lead. And oh, yeah, get a dog like Vincent suggested. Heck, he already met a new woman, and he wasn’t even a dog owner yet. This canine thing could be a real relational jackpot.
“So, do you want to interact with any of them in the private rooms?” Shauna said motioning toward two half doors near the front of the room.
“Nah, not right now. I’ve got to get to work, but I am interested in Bernie. I just wasn’t thinking I’d feel that way about a giant, drooling, mound of fur, but he is a cool dog. Maybe I can swing by tomorrow and get some one on one time with him like you suggested?”
“Sure, we’re open from nine to five, so just drop by anytime during business hours, and somebody will set things up for you and Bernie,” Shauna replied. Nick had no interest in anybody other than Shauna setting things up. Working with Melvin would simply not work after meeting this woman.
“Awesome,” Nick said. “Hopefully you’ll both still be here,” Nick said hoping for some sort of schedule conformation from Shauna.
“Oh, I’m here every day, but you can never be too sure about these guys,” Shauna said, spanning her arms out wide and rotating her waist from side to side to cover the whole room. Nick couldn’t help but return her infectious smile and revel in the thought of talking with her again. Vincent, you match-making devil, how did you know that dogs can lead to romance? He followed Shauna back outside into the reception area. Just as the door was about to close, Nick heard the voice again.
“See you tomorrow, Romeo.” Nick’s right foot tripped over his left heel, but he quickly caught himself with a sudden stop. Shauna looked back at Nick.
“Did you hear that?” Nick asked, hoping for some sort of confirmation that he was not losing it.
“No, I don’t think I heard anything, other than the normal animal noise. What did you hear?” Shauna asked
“Nothing,” Nick shot back. “I guess I just got this song in my head that keeps popping up. You know when you get a tune in your head you just can’t get rid of?”
“Yeah, I know what you mean. I hate that. Really breaks my concentration,” Shauna responded. Thank God that made sense to her, Nick thought. I’m sounding weird to me, and that’s never a good sign.
“Well, good luck with work tonight, and maybe we’ll see each other tomorrow,” Shauna said.
“Definitely,” Nick responded. “I’ve got a good feeling about this place. See you tomorrow.”
Nick walked back into the late afternoon sun and pulled his ten dollar supermarket sunglasses from the top of his head and put them on. He felt hesitant about the whole dog thing, but now the situation sure had a lot more upside than downside. He whistled a tune he’d heard on the radio on the drive to the shelter as he trotted across the parking lot and back to his truck. His preoccupation with Shauna rapidly pushed any concerns about that odd, amusing voice further and further from his mind. Lack of sleep and too much caffeine and beer could have strange effects on a man’s brain, he reminded himself. If only he believed that was the case.
The Bernie Factor Page 4
