A New Leash on Life (8 page)

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 smiles, 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.

“Okay,” she said, looking like she had to be coaxed into a happy mood. She pointed to a lock of my hair that escaped my knot. “Hmm, you have a little bit of hair hanging.”

“Does it really matter?” I asked.

She fixated on it. So, I tore out my knot and rebuilt it. I didn’t need her screwing up this opportunity by focusing on my hair instead of the camera. “There, better?”

“Much,” she said. “Okay, Fred, let’s have you swing over here near this wall with the pretty portraits. I’d like to have them right behind us.” On command, Fred carried himself and the enormous camera over to us. “Just follow my lead,” she said to me.

“I just want to make sure we’re on the same page. I really want to focus on the welfare of the animals and the influx of new ones being dropped off after being rescued. We need people to come out and adopt.”

She tilted her head to the side as if studying me. “Sure. I get it.”

Fred steadied himself in front of us, and when cued, the reporter dove into the segment like a well-trained national correspondent, precise and on-point with her words, her inflections, her timing. She summarized the last month and the financial distress of the town and how this distress negatively affected the flow of donations into the shelter. She briefed the audience on the struggles of non-profits when faced with disasters such as the hurricane and how it’s critical more than ever to get involved.

“What’s your biggest need right now?” The reporter asked, pointing the microphone at my mouth.

“Well, we’ve had an influx of animals come into the shelter, so we need blankets, food, beds, pillows. Any of that would help.”
Ask for money!
“Toys even.” Natalie and Trevor zeroed in on me, as if pleading with me to get out of my humble state and cut to the chase. “And people to consider fostering or adopting.”

The reporter smirked. “Okay, well, besides all of that, I also understand that your building is one of the few that has weathered the storm in this immediate area.”

“Yes, thankfully. We’ve had some damage, though.”

“Yes, of course,” she said. She looked around as if the thought had just caught up to her that she probably should have set up the shot to be in front of something other than Melanie’s pretty artistic wall display of beautiful pet portraits. “Tell us about that.”

“We’ve lost part of our roof, a wall is ready to collapse in the kennel area, and some of the grounds have washed away towards the back of the kennel runs.”
We need money for repairs, money we normally needed to keep the place up and running
. “We’re slowly trying to get it all worked out.”

“Any plans to relocate at this point?”

“Relocate?” What a dumb question. I briefed her on my needs and never did I mention relocating.
Why was she not leading me where we needed to go?
“We have a great spot here. It’s all fixable. Unfortunately, everyone else in town is going through much of the same and—” I paused to gather up the momentum I’d need to overcome this stupid need to stay humble. I looked over at my staff who urged me with a nod, with intent eyes, to carry onward with our plight.
Our plight
,
not mine.
“—the funding we rely on has stopped because everyone else is funneling it to rebuilding their homes and businesses. Because we’re double over our capacity, we’re low on supplies and food.” I smiled at the camera.
I’m irresponsible. I know. I should’ve set up a trust fund like Josh advised me to do. Save for a rainy day and plan for the worse to happen.
“We need help.”

“I also heard that you’ve had to turn away animals because you’re over capacity.”

In what universe? My face flushed. I would knock on every door and beg for foster help before I turned away an animal. Outrage seeped from my pores. “You heard wrong.”

She bypassed my answer. “And, I hear you’re getting requests from other neighboring counties to take on rehabilitation of more strays they’re finding.”

I snapped my eyes at her. “I’m not sure where you’re getting your information.”

She pressed on. “I understand that you are considering expanding the shelter if the funds can be secured. That would really be a win for the animal community. You had mentioned possibly sixty kennels in total?”

I tripped and stumbled over her lies. “Um.”

“So, what you really need are cash donations?”

She fed me with lies, lies that could help our cause, nonetheless. “That would be helpful, yes.”

“I know there are so many people affected financially by this disaster, and you’re worried to ask for their help. Is that right?” She pointed the microphone at me again.

“We’ll make due,” I said looking over at my trio who stared back at me with jaws dropped, weary frown lines on their foreheads. I turned back to her. “I know it’s not an easy time for the community right now.”

“It’s a beautiful thing you’re doing here. And, I’m sure I’m speaking for a lot of people when I say thank you.” She finally smiled.

I just nodded, lost for the right words.

The reporter stared into the camera and spoke like a fine-tuned instrument. “If you’d like to donate and help the Clark Family Shelter’s continued efforts to caring for defenseless, homeless animals, please visit our website to find out how. Stan, back to you.”

The cameraman backed away from his tripod. “That’s a wrap.”

I stood with my arms crossed, stunned. “What was that all about?” I asked her.

“I’m not here to waste my time,” she said, looping the extension cord around her thin arms. “Your story needs an emotional plea.” She turned to the cameraman. “Fred, I’ll need you to take some stills of the staff interacting with the dogs, cats, and any other animals you can find back there. Look for the most pathetic ones.” She turned to me. “You’re not done, yet. We’ve got to create a story worthy of landing a spot on the evening news.” She pointed to Fred. “Follow him.”

Thirty minutes later, and at least one hundred pictures snapped of all of us cuddling up to the animals, the reporter handed the extension cord to Fred, gathered her pocketbook and notepad from the counter, and headed out of the door. “You can thank me later when the donations start pouring in faster than you can blink.” She stopped midway through the front door. “Oh, and you can tell your brother that I said you’re welcome. Call me when you get some puppies. I get first dibs. Josh has my number.” She winked and walked away.