Hounds Abound (3 page)

She glanced back at us. Her pretty face looked rigid, upset. “Sorry. I’d best take this.”

She hurried off toward the area of the dog enclosures as Carlie and I walked slowly toward the front of the building so Bella could catch up with us.

Her voice caught up first. It was raised and filled with anger. “You son of a bitch, Miles. You’ll never get me to shut down Save’Em. Do your damnedest. I’d kill you before I’d let you hurt me, or my new charges here. Believe it.”

“Why is it that the best pet rescuers seem to have started their calling by leaving bad marriages behind?”

Carlie was joking. Wasn’t she?

We were back in my car, a Toyota Venza with all kinds of accessories to make it easier and safer to transport pets and their food and equipment. It was a crossover, not extremely large, so I relied on the HotRescues van for major pickups. But this was a great vehicle for everyday use.

We were making good time on the freeway. We still had to go south on Reseda Boulevard, but it wouldn’t take much longer to reach Carlie’s veterinary clinic in Northridge. I had picked her up there earlier, after dropping off a couple of owner-relinquished cats. Her fellow vets had promised to check them over while we were out critiquing Save’Em.

“At least you recognize that I’m among the best,” I retorted. “It remains to be seen about Bella, although I was really impressed by what I saw. Apparently you were, too.”

“She’s got not only a heck of a concept, but she’s putting it into effect in a great facility.” Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Carlie lift her large purse from the floor. I glanced toward her. “My mind’s churning about how to approach the show I’m going to do on Save’Em,” she said. “Need to make notes.”

I nodded. “If you tie it in with the orthotics and prosthetics company you visited before and their promise to work with you on camera to use their gadgets, it should be a real winner—especially for the animals you help. But”—I had to get my own dig in—“it’s a good thing you’re a celebrity and veterinarian, and not a pet shelter administrator.”

“Why? Because I’ve never married?”

“You’re the one who brought this whole thing up,” I reminded her.

“You’re just jealous,” she said. “I have consecutive, interesting relationships.” I laughed, but she was right. She always had a guy in her life, each better looking and more successful than the last. She threw herself into every relationship until things started to get boring or bad. By then, she had another man waiting.

Me? Well, right now I have a guy in my life. Sort of. I met Captain Matt Kingston of Los Angeles Animal Services at a puppy mill rescue a few months ago, and we’ve been seeing each other ever since.

But a while before that, I’d been in a terrible marriage that I had ended. After deciding to change my life, I’d put
together an excellent business plan for a new pet shelter that was in the concept stage, submitted it to Dante DeFrancisco, and gotten hired to help start, then run, HotRescues.

But saying that I was a happily divorced woman didn’t give credence to my really extraordinary first husband. My dear Kerry Vancouver had given me ten wonderful years and two wonderful children. He had died, though, from a rare form of cancer. I’d married the second time to give Tracy and Kevin a new father. He had never been that. My kids had turned out great anyway. Both were now in college.

“At least that jerk Charles is out of your life now,” Carlie said. “Judging by that phone call, and what I’ve seen in the news, poor Bella is still trapped in the stage of things where she has to deal with her miserable ex. And she has to do it publicly. That’s got to make it even worse. Good thing she’s gotten a lot of money out of it—or so I’ve heard.”

“Maybe, but with the way they’re fighting, she’s undoubtedly spending a lot on her lawyers.” I sighed on her behalf. “Heck, Miles Frankovick is a plastic surgeon to the stars. He must have a huge income. Turning over whatever community property Bella is entitled to apparently makes him mad, but so what? He has a lot more years of face-lifts and tummy tucks to make up for it.”

I turned off the freeway and onto Reseda Boulevard. We weren’t far from The Fittest Pet Veterinary Clinic. Carlie had called ahead and the cats I’d brought in had checked out fine. I was just going to drop her off and pick them up.

“You’ll keep me in the loop as you schedule your show at Save’Em, won’t you?” I asked.

“Do you have any doubt?”

We were stopped at a light and I glanced over at her. “Nope. Just wanted to remind you.”

“Fair enough. So, like I said, if I want to start a new pet shelter in a year or two, maybe I should get married first, to give myself time to get divorced.”

I felt my eyes widen in surprise. “Are you seriously considering marrying Liam?” Liam Deale was her latest guy friend.

“Not at the moment with my lifestyle being so crazy. I’d be going into it certain that I would have to dump the guy someday to make sure he didn’t dump me. But maybe when things settle down …”

“Then you
are
serious. Oh, Carlie, that’s great. I want to get to know Liam better.”

“So you can give me advice? Just remember, I’m the one who gives advice on national TV.”

I pulled into the almost-f lot at her clinic and parked. A lady got out of a car near the entrance with two Yorkies on a leash. They looked healthy, and I assumed they were there for shots or a checkup.

“You advise about pets and pet care,” I replied to Carlie. “I’m the one who can advise you about the good and bad things that come along with marriage. And I remember the bad only too well.”

I got out of the car, and so did she. I love her veterinary clinic. It’s a single-story box of pink stucco—very unobtrusive outside, but full of delightful amenities inside, like a park area in the middle where animals were brought out for fresh air.

As we approached the door, I gave Carlie a brief hug. “Maybe you and I can schedule dinner sometime soon and bring Matt and Liam along.”

“So you’re considering marrying Matt?”

I was so shocked at the question that I started laughing. “This conversation has gotten way out of hand,” I said. “We’re just dating.”

“So it’s too soon to plan a double wedding.” Carlie giggled, then preceded me inside to gather up my cats.

When I returned to HotRescues, I parked in the side lot near the welcome area and called for Pete Engersol, our all-around helper, to grab one of the two cat crates to carry inside.

He joined me almost immediately. Pete is thin, a senior citizen who stays in amazingly good condition, probably in part because of all he does to keep HotRescues going. He slings bags of food, cleans up kennel areas, and acts as a general all-around handyman.

“Are they okay?” he asked as he picked up Slinker’s crate.

“They’re both fine,” I assured him as I slid Alta’s crate out of my car.

We entered through the side door to the main building. Nina Guzman, my assistant administrator, was there, staffing the welcome area behind the tall, leopard-print reception desk, and surrounded by photos of happy adopters on the bright yellow walls.

So was Zoey, my own dog—an adorable Border collie–Australian
shepherd mix. She was mostly black and white, with some merle gray thrown in. I’d adopted her recently, partly thanks to Matt Kingston’s introducing her to me.

Zoey had been at HotRescues enough times to be used to the disloyalty I displayed by carrying cats around and paying attention to other dogs. She greeted me eagerly, rubbing against my leg and revving up her tail in a wag that made me smile. “Hi, Zoey,” I said. “I missed you, too.”

“Want me to take Alta?” Nina stood from the chair where she had been working, as usual, on the desktop computer.

“I’ve got her. Thanks.” Telling Zoey to stay with Nina, I followed Pete through our reception building and into the yard behind it, where our rows of kennels began.

Our cat facilities used to be right there, in the building in the middle, but Dante had recently bought the property next door and fixed it up with additional kennels and a new building where we housed our kitties. The original center building had been remodeled to have a real apartment upstairs, where a member of our security staff slept each night.

As we walked by the kennels, some of the dogs barked. Hard as it always was, I ignored them, not wanting to encourage behavior that might make them less adoptable. Besides, with a cat crate in my hands I couldn’t easily stop to reward them.

But I didn’t ignore them completely. Not in my mind. I felt so proud, and so blessed, that all the animals we had here were adorable, healthy creatures who might, with our help, soon find forever homes.

My heart, and gratitude, went out to Bella Frankovick
once more. Her Save Them All Sanctuary was one wonderful facility.

I hoped it stayed that way.

I hadn’t intentionally been eavesdropping on Bella’s side of her apparent conversation with her ex. Obviously the guy was threatening her and her choices. She’d threatened back, and, having gone through something similar in the past, I could only applaud her for it.

She was probably as likely to kill Miles as I’d been to dispose of Charles—and my ex was still around somewhere, probably ruining another woman’s life.

“Would you like me to post a notice on the site?” Nina asked.

I had returned to the welcome area and now leaned on the side of the leopard-print counter and looked down at her. The top I’d changed into matched hers—a blue knit HotRescues shirt. It looked better on her than on me. She was younger and curvier. But I’d decided long ago not to hold that against her. She was also a nice, caring human being who’d triumphed over an even uglier marriage than mine.

Under Carlie’s latest principle, maybe Nina should have started her own pet shelter by now.

“That would be great,” I told her. I’d brought up my intention of contacting Southern California Rescuers, which was a loosely knit alliance of local shelters that shared information on food bargains, adoption events, animals in trouble, and anything else of general interest to its followers. “I’ll bet there’ll be lot of interest in Save’Em. So many
shelters have pets they thought would be adoptable who wind up staying till they’re geezers too old to be placed in good homes.”

My intention was not to let that happen at HotRescues, but I was pleased to have a good alternative if we ever needed it.

“I’ve got to go see that place,” Nina said. Her light brown hair was long and loose, cut into bangs framing her face and flowing down her back as she looked up at me with her waiflike deep brown eyes. “It sounds like a castle built in a cornfield.”

I laughed. “Not a bad description. I think Bella started with an old horse farm and remodeled its house and stable. She did an amazing job. Anyway, yes, please post something informative on the SoCal Rescuers site. While you’re at it …”

We discussed others we wanted to tell about Save’Em. For one thing, Nina had a lot of contacts at Los Angeles Animal Services, since in addition to working here she also volunteered several evenings a week at East Valley Animal Shelter.

That meant she’d been able to inform me now and then about their wonderful activities to save endangered pets, like a recent puppy mill rescue. In turn, Animal Services cooperated with private shelters like HotRescues to allow us to take in animals in danger of being euthanized by them because of lack of space.

“Did you talk to Matt yet?” Nina asked from where she was still typing on the computer keyboard, a smile in her eyes as she looked up at me.

“No,” I said, “but I will.” Matt had several important teams reporting to him: SmART, which was the Small Animal Rescue Team, D.A.R.T., the Department Air Rescue Team for saving larger animals like horses, and Emergency Preparedness Services. He’d be interested in Save’Em. He often told me about animals that needed to be rescued at Animal Services so I could pick them up or find another shelter that would, and now he’d have another resource, too.

Before letting Nina get any busier with the tasks I’d assigned, I asked about the visitors to HotRescues that day while I was gone. “Any potential adopters?”

“A few. I had Bev take them around after they filled out the initial paperwork.” Bev, a delightful senior citizen, was one of our longtime volunteers. “You’ll need to check with her about whether any were serious—and whether they looked like you’d approve them.”

For now, I went down the nearby hallway to my office, Zoey following close behind.

I like my perfect-sized den at HotRescues. It’s all business on one side, with a not-so-antique L-shaped desk that I had refinished when I helped to start the shelter. On the other is a conversation area with a designer-like sofa that has brown, leathery upholstery, fluffy beige pillows, and curved wood legs. In between is a handy wooden bookshelf that also pretends to be a file cabinet. I have a window view of part of the shelter area, although I often keep the shades drawn.

I called Matt first. We decided to meet for dinner that night. That way, I could give him details about Save’Em—ones
he could use to encourage Animal Services to let us know about special-needs pets that Bella could save.