I'd had my share of lowdown, dirty dogs over my college career-jerks, blowhards, drunks. Mostly, because I didn't think I deserved better. Not after the crap I'd done in my life. But Tristan had convinced me that I could start over whenever I was ready. In the meantime, he listened to my rants, and arguments, and the occasional crying jag whenever I needed him. But most importantly, he rarely pushed. He didn't badger me with niceties or positivity. He knew who I was, and he let me be.
Me: Have you thought any more about my proposal?
Tris: I'm in! Just need a little more time.
"Yes," I said silently, with a fist bump to my reflection on the wall mirror.
It was the best news I'd heard since the adoption papers came through for Oscar. During our last talk, I tried to convince Tris to make a donation to Top Dog. Though it was desperation that drove me, I knew it'd be a good PR move on his part. His company recently purchased a line of cancer screening equipment for pets. Shortly after the acquisition, he established a foundation dedicated to pet health-something I suggested, thank you very much. And this was the next logical step. Tristan wasn't a pet lover per se, but he had a heart of gold and was always looking for a worthy cause for his philanthropy efforts. He was the Bill Gates of the south, so I pushed my own agenda on him whenever it was appropriate.
Tris: Think you can keep the place on the up and up until I push it through the foundation?
Me: Of course.
I cringed a little at his request. Ever since my boss, Gloria, took over the shelter a few years ago, we've done our best to repair its reputation after the previous owner was found guilty of mistreating the animals. Trouble was, we were hanging on by a thread-low on employees, volunteers, and money for supplies and repairs. But it was the only no-kill shelter in the area, so we just had to keep it open. That's where Tristan's foundation came in.
We needed the funds ASAP because we had an ornery, and surprisingly powerful, businessman up our ass, watching our every move and trying to get us to slip up. The shelter was on a decent piece of real estate that Chris Sullivan had been trying to buy up for years, and he was willing to do almost anything to make that happen-which included reporting even the slightest infringements of the shelter.
If Tris came through, it wouldn't be long before we'd have the money we needed to properly run the place. We just had to keep our perfect record going for a little longer.
Tris: Good. Hang in there and I'll be in touch soon.
I gave my friend a super gooey thank you-not something I did regularly, but his generosity warranted it-and said goodbye.
Finally in good spirits, I was ready for a little me time.
Saturday mornings were my favorite. They were the one slotted time where I wasn't booked to capacity. I stretched out my arms overhead in a luxurious reaching motion, letting my mind drift back my dream again. How sad, I now had to resort to little gifts from the Sandman to make up for my neglected sex life.
I reminisced about the best part, when my dream guy pinned me down on my bed. But the fantasy was interrupted by Oscar's cold, wet tongue. Ugh, that was a little disturbing.
"I thought it was too early to get up, Mister," I said. He wagged his tail, telling me he'd changed his mind.
I'd been lucky that my landlord allowed me to have the dogs in the apartment. I was the only one with animals in the building. Though I'm not exactly proud of the way I got Oscar- who may or may not have been introduced to my landlord as a therapy dog-into the place. But sometimes you have to bend the truth a little for the greater good. And saving Oscar was one of the best things I'd ever done.
He's the kindest companion I could ever ask for. Oscar never judged, put me down, or put any conditions on his love. So unlike some other people I knew. It's really no joke that dogs are better than men. And I knew that no matter what I did, Oscar would always be there for me.
The other pups pounced around on the bed and joined the leader of the pack. Now these other two, I wasn't so sure about. We hadn't fully bonded yet, maybe because they knew this was only a temporary home for them. Plus, I tried to set up boundaries. The girls went into my spare room at night, until they started crying or fussing. I made it a calming sanctuary in there with new dog beds and calming colors. They'd had a rough start to life and I thought they'd be more adoptable once they experienced a good home. Ruby and Molly weren't the first to stay; my spare bedroom had become a transitionary home for troubled pets. A place where they could detox or rehab before they were ready to be adopted-a service that was scarce, but desperately needed. As soon as the time was right, I'd run my doggie detox idea past Gloria. Maybe we could offer the service as part of the shelter's program. Not that my landlord would necessarily agree to this. He still had no any idea about the other two residents squatting in his building. But he wasn't around very often, and I doubt he could tell the difference between one pet or three. That's what I told myself anyway.
The four of us padded into the kitchen and I ground my Costa Rican coffee beans while the dogs paced under my feet. The rich scent of the beans helped perk me up.
"You guys know the rules," I told them. "I take care of myself first and you second. After all, the pilot can't fly the plane unless she has her own oxygen mask on." That's exactly how I felt about my morning coffee.
As the pot gurgled to life, I put the kibble in the dog dishes, which would hopefully appease them for about ten minutes or so-long enough for me to get some caffeine in my system before I had to take them out to do their business.
Ruby hit her dish first, eating so fast she gagged. Poor thing still hadn't gotten used to having food every day. Molly took the opposite approach; she savored each bite. Funny, you could really tell a lot about a dog by the way they did simple things, like eating their morning kibble.
Then there was Oscar, who waited patiently for the others to be done, guarding his dish the entire time. He couldn't enjoy his food while others watched. He liked his privacy. I understood. I was more cautious and protective myself.
Wow, here I was waxing poetic about the dogs' approach to mealtime. That human contact might be needed more than I originally thought.
Still, as I sat on the stool slurping my morning coffee, I couldn't help but notice how content I was for the first time in a long time. I didn't need to have a man. I didn't need to have a lot of friends. Shoot, as sad as it sounded, I didn't even need to have my family. I was really okay. And spending the morning with my animals running in between my legs and jumping up on the furniture, gave me the most overwhelming warming feeling in my heart.
Or it did … until the phone rang.
I practically fell off my stool when it did, because there was no one, other than Tris, who would call at this time of day. Or in general, really.
Ah, it was the shelter. Now that made sense.
"Have you had your coffee yet?" Gloria asked by way of hello.
"About halfway there," I told her, feeling a little hole in my gut.
"Well, I hate to do this to you, honey," she said lightly. "But I could really use your help this morning."
"Why? What's going on?"
"Sullivan is back at it again. He had the cops over here this morning for another headcount of the dogs. We're two over, thanks to an overnight drop-off."
What a bastard. That was the second time in two weeks that he came barreling in with the cops. "He's really trying to shut us down, isn't he?"
"He is, but I don't want you to worry about that. This is my job, Jenna. You've already done so much, I don't want you to stress. But I could use your help to watch over the place for a few hours while I take care of this."
I couldn't tell her about my plan or Tristan's help yet. As much as I believed in Tris, I hadn't had my share of good luck, so I wouldn't say a word until I knew that it was going to work. Either way, we had to stay off Sullivan's radar.
He must've been getting desperate for the block of land. He made complaints to the cops about noise, overcapacity, the building's appearance, and even once accused Gloria of mishandling the animals. That's what really pissed me off. It's not like she was getting rich running an animal shelter, and to accuse her of something like that had crossed so many lines.
"Of course I'll be there, Gloria." I slammed my coffee down and started gathering my things. "Let me get the dogs out for a quick walk, and I'll be over as soon as I can."
I slipped into my yoga pants and a T-shirt and gathered up everything I would need for the morning. I just had to get these guys out before I left. They'd be okay in their crates for a few hours while I was gone. That's the thing about these dogs, as long as you spent the time to train them, they were the perfect housemates. I've never had any trouble with these three. I was almost tempted to keep them all.
Securing the little ones on their chains, I grabbed Oscar's leash and opened the door. But then the phone rang again, so I brought them back in with me and answered the call.
It was Gloria, reminding me to bring a lunch in case her meeting went over. By the time I went back to the door, Oscar had decided it was time for him to go. He'd already taken off down the hall. That's okay, he was probably just waiting by the door for us like he usually did. He tended to operate on his own timeframe.