Taking my gloves off, I throw them down on a bench that sits between the two stalls and head out, closing and locking the barn door behind me. Brody is leaning against the fender of my truck, his hands tucked into his jeans pockets. His face is a blank mask—no clue what he’s thinking—and it makes me want to shake him and find out what’s going on in that head of his.
“Ready to go?” I ask him as I walk up to the driver’s door.
He doesn’t move, but his head turns to follow me. “How come you didn’t have anyone to help you do this today?”
Shrugging my shoulders, I say, “Just didn’t have any volunteers scheduled. They’re hard to come by.”
I climb in the truck and, as I close the door behind me, I watch as Brody just sits there for a second, then he pushes away from the fender and walks around the front to climb in the passenger side.
Putting the truck in gear, I do a wide turn and head back toward the road that runs beside the main kennel. Glancing at the dashboard clock, I let out a muttered curse, seeing that it’s almost five o’clock and I need to get my ass in gear.
“I need to feed the animals really quick and lock up. I’ve got to get Gabby’s cake for tonight and didn’t realize this would take so long.”
My tone is apologetic because I am sorry I monopolized his time today, but the look on my face dares him to make a big deal out of it. The animals getting fed take precedence over his need to get home.
He just says, “No problem” as I bring the truck to a stop by the back door to the kennel.
Brody gets out of the truck and follows me inside, which surprises me. I suppose that means he has an interest so I start talking as I unlock the door and walk in. “This is the kennel that houses the dogs. Next small building over has the cats. I’m hoping to build an aviary at some point and take on wounded birds, but that’s probably way down the line. I sort of have my hands full right now.”
“The cages are huge,” Brody says as I walk down the main aisle, toward the storage room.
“Yeah… technically, I can hold a few dogs in each cage, but I haven’t had to do that yet. Been successful in finding good homes for most of them pretty quickly, so that helps.”
The dogs know it’s feeding time so they all start barking as I walk by, tails wagging happily. All but Jethro, of course. He stays lying on his side but lifts his head up wearily as I get closer to him.
“Is he sick?” Brody asks. As I look over my shoulder, I see him looking at Jethro.
“Yeah, poor guy is heartworm positive, which we’re treating him for, but he’s just old. I don’t think he’s much longer for this life.”
Unlocking the storage room, I step in. I efficiently fill up my wheelbarrow with dry kibble and back it out of the narrow opening. Brody silently watches me as I turn it toward Jethro’s cage first.
Taking the old gallon milk jug that I cut the bottom off and fashioned a large scoop out of, I fill it up and unlatch Jethro’s cage. He usually gets his creaky bones up when he sees food coming, but he doesn’t make a move. His sad eyes just follow me as I dump the food in his bowl and eyeball his water dish. I don’t have to fill up the water bowls because when I had the kennel built, I had each unit plumbed with a pipe that would fill their bowls automatically when it dropped below a certain level. It was expensive as hell, but at least it took away one task I needed to do several times a day and saved me time, and time is money. All I had to do was keep an eye on the bowls and make sure it was working properly so they had plenty to drink.
I walk over to Jethro and squat down next to him, running my fingers behind his ears. “Not hungry, buddy?”
His tail gives a weak thump against his bed, but he doesn’t move. I stand up and look at him worriedly, wondering if this is the beginning of the end. I question if I should call a vet in to look at him, but then I talk myself out of it. He just seems tired, and I’ll come back by later tonight after Gabby’s party to check on him.
When I turn around to let myself out of Jethro’s cage, I see the wheelbarrow is gone… taken by Brody down to the next unit and he’s already inside, putting food in the dog’s bowl. It’s a little Beagle I received a few days ago, and she jumps up and down in excitement over her dinner. Brody dumps a full scoop in her bowl, which is too much given her size, but I don’t say anything.
As she dives into her food, her tail wagging furiously while she eats, Brody reaches down and scratches her back a few times. She lifts her head from the bowl, grins at him happily, and then goes back to eating. When he turns my way, he has a smile on his face. I mean a big fucking smile… something I haven’t seen once since he got back.