her eyes as big and round as beer coasters.
“Katie,” she began in her syrupy sweet voice.
“But I really need to take a shower,” I said, gesturing to my matted hair and stubbly legs.
“You can do that when we get back.
Please?
If I take too long, someone else will beat me to him!”
Do I look as if I care?
I grumbled inwardly, still mad at her for laughing at me. But even as I thought this, I could feel my posture wilting in defeat. Christine noticed too. A triumphant grin began wriggling across her face. “Oh, okay,” I heard myself say. But Christine had already grabbed my arm and was pulling me toward my bedroom.
“Hurry and get dressed,” she ordered. “I’ll meet you at the door in five minutes.”
So there I was on my first morning of freedom. Instead of sipping coffee on the balcony after a record-long hot shower, I was caffeine-free and yanking on old sweats so I could accompany Christine to an animal shelter.
The last thing I saw before heading out of the apartment with Christine was steam snaking around the bathroom door. Robot’s voice, singing a classic Green Day tune, echoed from within.
“Crap! You are freaking kidding me! How can he be gone already?”
Christine had transformed again. Two minutes before, she had been all schoolgirl charm and impeccable manners. Now an angry, messy-haired banshee stood in her place, yelling at a bespectacled woman at the reception counter.
“I’m sorry. The dog left just half an hour ago with someone else. They called yesterday evening right after we posted the e-mail.”
“But that’s not fair! I just got the message this morning! I can’t help it if I had plans last night. I have a life!”
The woman smiled without curling up the sides of her mouth, making it look as if she were baring her teeth at Christine. “If you like, I can do a search of other nearby shelters to see if any dachshunds have been brought in recently. Sometimes they don’t get on the rescue league’s network.”
“Yes. Do that.”
“It might take a while,” she said. I could tell she was hoping Christine might worry it would take up too much of her “life.”
“Fine. Whatever,” Christine said. She looked over at me. “That’s not a problem, is it, Katie?”
Yes. I’m hungry and in dire need of shampoo and a
cup of coffee.
“No. No problem. I’ll just have a look around.”
The irritated woman led Christine into a glass-walled office and shut the door. I felt like a dweeb on display just standing there with nothing to do, so I wandered down the corridor where the dogs were kept. With each step the soundscape of barks, grunts and whimpers grew louder, and the combined smell of kibble and animal dander became nearly overwhelming.
A middle-aged man holding a clipboard stood near the far end of the corridor. He nodded at me. “If you see one that interests you, let me know.”
“Thanks but . . .” I paused, unsure how to say that I really wasn’t interested in adopting a homeless pet, that I was just killing time while my roommate had me trapped there. After all, the guy probably put years of his life into saving these animals and probably wouldn’t take kindly to window-shoppers like me. “I’m sort of in a temporary living situation right now. So I’m looking around to just, you know, get a feel of what sort of dog I want to adopt when I head home this fall.”
He gave a perfunctory nod and turned back toward his clipboard, clearly sorry he’d even spoken to me.
No need to tell him your life story, you spaz!
I slowly ambled down the corridor, peering into the Plexiglas stalls at all the different animals. For some reason I’d expected the kennels to resemble a bleak dungeon—like the scene in
The Lady and the Tramp.
But this place wasn’t that bad at all. The dogs all looked healthy and well-cared for. They had mats and blankets and big bowls of food and water. And yet, it still made me sad. There were so many of them. Row after row, stall
“Katie,” she began in her syrupy sweet voice.
“But I really need to take a shower,” I said, gesturing to my matted hair and stubbly legs.
“You can do that when we get back.
Please?
If I take too long, someone else will beat me to him!”
Do I look as if I care?
I grumbled inwardly, still mad at her for laughing at me. But even as I thought this, I could feel my posture wilting in defeat. Christine noticed too. A triumphant grin began wriggling across her face. “Oh, okay,” I heard myself say. But Christine had already grabbed my arm and was pulling me toward my bedroom.
“Hurry and get dressed,” she ordered. “I’ll meet you at the door in five minutes.”
So there I was on my first morning of freedom. Instead of sipping coffee on the balcony after a record-long hot shower, I was caffeine-free and yanking on old sweats so I could accompany Christine to an animal shelter.
The last thing I saw before heading out of the apartment with Christine was steam snaking around the bathroom door. Robot’s voice, singing a classic Green Day tune, echoed from within.
“Crap! You are freaking kidding me! How can he be gone already?”
Christine had transformed again. Two minutes before, she had been all schoolgirl charm and impeccable manners. Now an angry, messy-haired banshee stood in her place, yelling at a bespectacled woman at the reception counter.
“I’m sorry. The dog left just half an hour ago with someone else. They called yesterday evening right after we posted the e-mail.”
“But that’s not fair! I just got the message this morning! I can’t help it if I had plans last night. I have a life!”
The woman smiled without curling up the sides of her mouth, making it look as if she were baring her teeth at Christine. “If you like, I can do a search of other nearby shelters to see if any dachshunds have been brought in recently. Sometimes they don’t get on the rescue league’s network.”
“Yes. Do that.”
“It might take a while,” she said. I could tell she was hoping Christine might worry it would take up too much of her “life.”
“Fine. Whatever,” Christine said. She looked over at me. “That’s not a problem, is it, Katie?”
Yes. I’m hungry and in dire need of shampoo and a
cup of coffee.
“No. No problem. I’ll just have a look around.”
The irritated woman led Christine into a glass-walled office and shut the door. I felt like a dweeb on display just standing there with nothing to do, so I wandered down the corridor where the dogs were kept. With each step the soundscape of barks, grunts and whimpers grew louder, and the combined smell of kibble and animal dander became nearly overwhelming.
A middle-aged man holding a clipboard stood near the far end of the corridor. He nodded at me. “If you see one that interests you, let me know.”
“Thanks but . . .” I paused, unsure how to say that I really wasn’t interested in adopting a homeless pet, that I was just killing time while my roommate had me trapped there. After all, the guy probably put years of his life into saving these animals and probably wouldn’t take kindly to window-shoppers like me. “I’m sort of in a temporary living situation right now. So I’m looking around to just, you know, get a feel of what sort of dog I want to adopt when I head home this fall.”
He gave a perfunctory nod and turned back toward his clipboard, clearly sorry he’d even spoken to me.
No need to tell him your life story, you spaz!
I slowly ambled down the corridor, peering into the Plexiglas stalls at all the different animals. For some reason I’d expected the kennels to resemble a bleak dungeon—like the scene in
The Lady and the Tramp.
But this place wasn’t that bad at all. The dogs all looked healthy and well-cared for. They had mats and blankets and big bowls of food and water. And yet, it still made me sad. There were so many of them. Row after row, stall
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