A New Leash on Life by Suzie Carr Page A

wanted to see her play with other dogs, yipping and yapping, jumping and running.
    “All in good time. I promise, little girl.” I kissed her fluffy head and she looked up at me with eyes that told me she would not disappoint.
    When I opened the Clark Family Shelter three years ago, I funded it with my inheritance. I had just enough cash flow to sustain the shelter with its food, medical supplies, staff payroll, and basic operating expenses for roughly a year. I also received monthly donations that helped take the edge off when unexpected things crept up like repairs and special foods for special needs animals. The past two years, I spent raising funds from local businesses, events, and door-to-door campaigns. This consumed about thirty-percent of my time, time I wished I could’ve been working the shelter instead.
    Natalie earned the title of fundraising hero. She consistently converted naysayers into donors by pulling at their heartstrings. Sometimes I wondered if all that magic derived from pure passion for the animals or from survival. She loved working for the shelter and constantly echoed how she would just die if I ever came to her one day and told her I didn’t have the money to keep her employed. She could work at any vet office and earn more money than I could afford to pay her, yet she remained loyal to me. I assumed her loyalty stemmed entirely out of the purpose behind the work we did. Then, about a year ago, when I overheard her talking with Trevor in the back, I heard a different tale, one that caused me to blush and hide in the kennels for the rest of the day.
    Apparently, my prized employee had a crush on me, and sought counsel in Trevor one day when she heard me agree to a date with one of our food suppliers, Corrine. I had broken Natalie’s heart without even realizing it. She had misread my friendly winks and nudges as signs all along that I reciprocated the chemistry.
    So, I spent hours sitting on oversized pillows with affectionate dogs who took up refuge in my confused and numb state. Natalie, only three years out of high school, was my friend. How I handled the delicate situation would chart the course for smooth sailing or rough seas. I needed Natalie and her inflated joy. She tended to the shelter like a talented sailor tended to the open water. Without her, I’d list heavily in the wrong direction. Her efforts kept this place afloat, and provided safety, security, and love to hundreds of abandoned pets each year.
    So, that same night I overheard this conversation, I took action. I decided to invite her in to one of the kennels and help me coax our newest shelter member to allow me to trim his nails. She sat next to me, wrapping her secret up in a smile. Her eyes sparkled and her lips quivered as she moved in closer to clutch the hound’s paw. “I wanted to ask you about something,” I said, ready to reveal what I overheard and how we needed to define the boundaries so things didn’t get weird.
    Her tanned skin deepened. “Oh?” Her eyes darted from me to the paw a few too many times. She struggled to inhale. I’d never seen her so shaken and at a loss for words. “Did I do something to upset you? I’m so sorry if I did.” She pulled in her lower lip, clenching it as if bracing for ridicule or reprimand.
    I couldn’t risk doing either to her. “No.” I blinked her comment away. “Of course not.” I laughed a little and she welcomed the relief with a sharp exhale and her signature goofy laugh.
    “I just wanted to ask you if you’ve heard back from Della Range on whether they have any foster homes available?”
    “Not a word, Olivia. Not a word.” She directed her full attention to the needy one in the kennel. Suddenly, teamed-up, she armed to assist me, waiting for the right moment to unleash the pressure for the pretty hound with claws too mighty for kennel life.
    I decided to just let things slide. I went on that date and raved about it, even though it sucked. I even lied