Hounds Abound (5 page)

I took Zoey to my office. She sat, watching me as I settled behind my desk, her head cocked. “Time to deal with this in a better way,” I told her. She seemed almost to nod, then curled into a ball on the rug at my feet.

I called Carlie. She always had good perspective on everything.

Yes, she was aware of the interview. She had friends at the station where the interview was conducted who kept her informed about animal-related stories. That was where her guy friend Liam worked.

She didn’t know Dr. Victor Drammon, but after watching a replay of the interview she’d looked him up on the Internet. He had a clinic near Beverly Hills. She’d seen nothing especially critical either in his online ratings or from the veterinary review boards.

“I’ll counter what he said when I do my show,” she assured me. “Although, Lauren, he actually has a point. You don’t rescue the kinds of animals Save’Em does.”

“Not usually,” I admitted. “And I feel so awful that I can’t always save the especially needy pets like them.”

“Of course. But you know the drill: HotRescues’ function as a private no-kill shelter is to save and rehome as many pets as possible. If you took in the old and infirm, you’d fill up and wouldn’t be able to save as many healthy, young pets in their eleventh hour because the public shelters that house them need more room. Have you talked to Bella yet?”

“I left her messages. And I’m going to one of those public shelters this morning.”

That was one reason I was overreacting—maybe. Nina had worked out a visit for us at the East Valley Animal Shelter, where she’d volunteered for HotRescues to take in some animals that morning—dogs and cats that otherwise might not survive until tomorrow if we didn’t bring them here.

I couldn’t save them all. And I definitely didn’t want to hear things like that damned uncaring vet had said about how it might be better to assume that the special-needs pets I couldn’t rehome were suffering and deserved to die. It happened much too often, and it just shouldn’t be.

HotRescues is a no-kill shelter. The definition of that term varies, but my favorite interpretation is a place where animals are euthanized only when they’re sick and possibly suffering, with no hope of recovery. We don’t kill for behavior issues, and we certainly don’t kill just because an animal is old or disabled. But having someplace wonderful to take special-needs animals with only slim chances of getting new, loving homes was a big relief to me.

I mentally thanked Bella Frankovick for creating Save’Em
as I rounded up my crew to go save as many animals as we could that day.

I went to Save’Em late that afternoon. I wasn’t alone this time, either.

My companion wasn’t Matt or Carlie or any other person. It was an adorable, senior-citizen dachshund I’d seen at the East Valley shelter that day whom I doubted I could place in a loving home. But I also couldn’t leave him behind knowing he wouldn’t have lasted more than another day at the public shelter.

I’d finally gotten a text message back from Bella. She had seen that interview. Wanted to talk but not just then.

I’d texted her back requesting the okay to bring my new, old friend to Save’Em. Yes, she’d said, Durwood the dachshund was welcome.

So here we were. I’d kept Durwood in a crate in the backseat, for his safety. Now, I took the small wiener dog out. He was primarily black with some brown spots, as well as a lot of gray around his muzzle.

Mostly, he was sweet, very happy to be in my arms, nosing at me and giving doggy kisses.

How could anyone have left him at a high-kill shelter? The story was that he’d been an owner relinquishment, someone’s pet who had been given up simply because they didn’t want him anymore.

He was a dog I’d love to have kept at HotRescues. But he was thirteen years old, slow in his gait. He was unlikely to be adoptable, despite my wishes. I’d have kept him at my shelter if there hadn’t been a better place for him, of course.
I’d have done my best to find someone to at least foster him—and preferably adopt him.

But I knew that at Save’Em he’d have a better chance at finding a new, wonderful home with a loving family—or he would be kept there and well cared for, for the rest of his life. Maybe he’d become Ignatz’s new best friend.

I snapped a leash onto Durwood’s collar and he walked with me from the parking lot to the front gate. Slowly. And when we got there, he sat down, panting.

Poor guy hadn’t much energy. But he had been checked out by a vet while at the East Valley Animal Shelter and had a clean bill of health—except for age. Unfortunately, that wasn’t curable.

The person who let me in the front door was Peggy, the volunteer in a red shirt who had greeted Carlie and me the first time I’d come. “Hi, Lauren. Is this Durwood?” She knelt and held out her hands, and the dog wiggled up to her, tail wagging hard enough almost to knock him off balance. Peggy hugged him, then stood. “Bella told me to show you inside. She has someone with her but will say hi when she can.”

She brought us into the main building,
tsk
ing a bit when poor Durwood struggled to keep up. I lifted him into my arms. “No need for you to do anything that’s too hard for you, boy,” I told him.

“Hi, Lauren,” said Kip Schaley when we got into the entry. “Bella told me you were bringing us a new resident.” Save’Em’s spectacled accountant patted Durwood, too. Once again he held a bunch of files and appeared distracted. “I’m waiting for a call in my office, but I’ll look in on him later.”

A staff member wearing a black shirt came into the tile-covered entryway to greet us. She appeared to be in her twenties, a bit plump, with an attractive face highlighted by curly, silver-blond hair. “Hi,” she said. “I’m Neddie. Come along to my office and we’ll get the paperwork started to take in this sweet fellow.”

Peggy gave Durwood a last pat before heading through the archway into the main facility. Neddie’s office was to the right, the opposite side from Bella’s. I followed her and sat on a stiff folding chair, keeping Durwood on my lap.

Their procedure was similar to that of HotRescues—filling out forms about where the dog had come from, providing any background information we had, and handing over copies of vet reports, all of which would be entered into the computer.

“He’ll need to be checked out by our vet, too,” Neddie said. “We have a new one—I think Bella said you recommended her clinic? She’s that woman whose show I watch on the Longevity Vision Channel, Dr. Carlie Stellan.”

I smiled. “She’s a wonderful vet.”

“Unlike our last one,” Neddie muttered. “That damned Dr. Drammon.” She looked up at me with angry gold-tinged eyes. “He’s a traitor.”

“I heard his interview.” My expression undoubtedly mirrored hers.

“We’re not supposed to talk about it. Would you like to see where we’ll keep Durwood after his quarantine period?”

“Sure.”

This time, it was Neddie who stooped and lifted Durwood, who wagged and licked and acted like a wonderful, loving dog.

Good thing that the paperwork that came with him from the East Valley center hadn’t identified his former owner. Otherwise I might have given him a piece of my critical, angry mind.

When we exited Neddie’s office back into the entry area, Bella was there with a man. He wore a dark suit and an even darker scowl.

Bella, as always, was lovely in her black Save’Em shirt with a light suit jacket over it and matching slender pants. Her makeup was perfect, but her eyes looked sunken and her expression pale.

“I don’t want another tour of this damned stupid place,” the man, taller than she, shouted down at her. “It would only make me even angrier about how you’re wasting my money.”

“It’s my money, Miles,” she retorted coolly. “Even though you’re stopping me from collecting some of it. I earned every penny of our community property. You should have paid me more to put up with you.”

So this was her ex-husband, the Beverly Hills plastic surgeon. His eyes were inky brown and as cold as a winter night in the San Bernardino Mountains. His high cheekbones underscored those small eyes, and his narrow chin had a wattle of flab hanging down that quivered like gelatin on a moving train.

He looked as if he could have used some of his own surgical skills on himself.

“You were nothing but a barely successful screenwriting hack before,” he continued, hands clenched into fists at his sides. “At least if you’d kept doing that, it would only be you I’d have been forced to support now, not this ridiculous
façade, too. If you had to pretend to love and save animals, why not purebreds that someone might actually spend money to buy from you, not pathetic things at the ends of their lives? And why you have to house them in luxury like this—”

“It’s not luxury. It’s a warm, loving environment and they deserve it. A lot more than you ever did. You’re the pathetic thing, not my animals.”

“Well you’d better warn that damned lawyer of yours to get ready for the next round of our fight. You’ll never see another cent of rental income from my real estate. And I’m going to get the rest of my money back, too, you’ll see.”

“Over my dead body,” Bella spat. “Rather, your dead body.” Her grin was malicious.

I saw those fists of Miles Frankovick rise as if he planned to use them on Bella. I quickly grabbed my BlackBerry from my large purse and aimed it at him. “This thing takes great pictures. That’ll make a wonderful one to send to the cops. And it’ll look great plastered all over the Internet.” My turn to grin.

He pivoted toward me, and I wondered if he would instead punch me. But he just aimed another furious glare first toward me, then at Bella. “This is far from over,” he spat, then walked briskly toward the door.

In moments, he was gone.

Bella was visibly shaken as she thanked me, then insisted on meeting Durwood. Neddie was still there, saying nothing, but she looked scared as she accompanied us back to the quarantine area.

“He’s so sweet,” Bella said, stepping into the kennel, lifting Durwood and giving him a hug. “We’ll take good care of him, you’ll see.” Her voice quavered.

“I know you will.”

I needed to get back to HotRescues, but I hated to leave Bella alone. Well, she wouldn’t exactly be alone, but I wanted to provide whatever support I could.

“Let me call my assistant,” I said. “If Nina can hang around for a while, let’s go out for dinner. We can chat about good times and great pets.”

“I’d love that.”

Fortunately, this was one of the evenings Nina wasn’t volunteering at the East Valley Animal Shelter. Plus, she told me our security director Brooke had already shown up with Cheyenne and was taking her initial walkthrough of HotRescues for the night.

Before we left, Bella invited me to meet her own dog, Sammy. “He’s out in the rear yard helping to get our more frightened new residents acclimated to being around other dogs as well as people. Come on. I’ll introduce you.”

Sammy was a Belgian Malinois, which resembles a German shepherd. They’re particularly smart dogs, also frequently used in law enforcement. As we reached him, he was lying down on a grassy area while a nervous-looking greyhound sat beside him, apparently ready to bolt if he hadn’t been on a leash.

“Everything okay?” Bella asked the staff member observing the encounter who held the other end of the lead.

“Absolutely. Sammy’s got Godric all calmed down.”

“Excellent! Come on, Sammy. Time for dinner.”

That apparently made Sammy happy. He followed us to the small cottage at the far end of the Save’Em property, which was framed in light blue with white trim. The inside was cottage-like, too, with entry straight into the living room. Bella showed me around. A doorway at the far side led to the hall to the kitchen and two bedrooms.

“Cute place,” I told Bella.

I didn’t understand why her laugh was so wry until she said, “Definitely. But a far cry from the Beverly Hills mansion I moved out of.”

I had to ask. “Which do you like better?”

“Silly question. I’m free here. No fights every day, and I can pick my companions. Right, Sammy?”

After she fed Sammy and exchanged her Save’Em shirt for an attractive peach blouse, we headed for the place we’d agreed on for dinner, a chain steakhouse not far from Save’Em. I drove. I didn’t have to ask Bella what was on her mind. The forced smile on her lovely face told me that she, like me, was rehashing that awful conversation with her ex. She responded to my questions, but otherwise didn’t say much.

Inside the restaurant, though, she opened up after we ordered our food and hit the salad bar. Unfortunately, we couldn’t get wine in the family joint, but that didn’t matter—not when I started a topic of conversation that obviously appealed to her.

“Tell me how you decided to open Save’Em,” I asked as soon as we sat down at our booth once more.

The false, brave smile on her face segued to a real one. “As soon as I’d made the decision to leave Miles at last, I considered what I wanted to do with the rest of my life. He hates animals, so we didn’t have any pets for the horrible ten years we were married. I missed them. I also knew what it felt like to live in hell and need a change, a sanctuary.”