hadn’t left with a kitten, but instead an older cat named Sparks, with whom Becca quickly became inseparable.
Walking up to the entrance made him smile. Not because it was a real happy place—the smell of animals was strong, loud barking resonated for at least a mile, and a cloud of gloom seemed to hang over the entire facility—but because of his memories of Becca.
They’d surprised her, telling her they were just taking a regular trip to the grocery store. As soon as she’d realized where they were, her face had lit up and she’d practically bounced with energy.
Shane closed his eyes, pulling that memory close. That was all he’d had for a long time. Just memories, good and bad. He couldn’t imagine having only those for the rest of Becca’s childhood.
“I wasn’t sure you’d show,” a familiar voice said.
Aaron stood by the front desk, dressed in the same style of clothing Shane had seen him in yesterday. It was a lot more low-key than what he’d worn at the VA, and Shane got the sense that this was the way he normally dressed.
He approved. Especially considering he was just wearing a sleeveless black tee and jeans.
Part of that was because he wanted to see the look on Aaron’s face when he showed off two full sleeves of tats. Aaron didn’t disappoint; Shane could practically feel his gaze as it roved over his arms.
“I still don’t know why you’re doing this, but I can’t really afford to pass,” Shane said.
Aaron seemed to consider this, then nodded. He spoke briefly to a woman behind the intake desk, then motioned Shane toward the door that led to the kennels. He didn’t seem to be as nervous here, which made sense. He spent all day working with dogs.
“Why don’t you tell me about the dogs you’ve owned,” he said, and fell into a slow walk toward the kennels.
“First was Sandy. She came from the pound pretty young. My dad got her for me as a present, but she tore the shit out of the brand-new furniture, and he took her back.”
He could see Aaron wince.
“Yeah, I never really forgave him for that. Mom made him sleep on the couch for a month, too. I heard she got adopted again, but he could’ve been bullshitting me.”
“Hopefully he wasn’t,” Aaron said gravely.
Shane hoped so, too.
“We got Tanner from a litter my aunt’s dog had. I pretty much grew up with him. He was a chow and rottweiler mix, I think. Parents couldn’t afford to get him snipped for a while, so he was a randy son of a bitch. But he calmed down after that.”
“Did you teach him any tricks?”
“A few, yeah. Basic shit. Sit, lay down, roll over.”
Aaron nodded, then stopped to examine the clipboard on one of the kennels. An older dog looked up at him as he did so.
“What happened to him?”
“I’m not really sure,” Shane said with a frown. “He started ripping things up. Never had a problem before that. Mom tried to correct him, reached for his collar and he turned around and damn near tried to take her arm off. Vet said it happens sometimes with older dogs. Kinda like a type of dementia? He told us it was best to put him down.”
“I’m sorry,” Aaron said softly, and it sounded like he meant it.
“Yeah. It happened right after I enlisted, so…”
Aaron just nodded, crouching in front of another kennel and holding his hand out to a pit bull mix.
“What are you looking for?” Shane asked, pretty eager to change the subject.
“On the papers, I’m looking for any information they have about the dog, like where it came from, who owned it previously, whether or not it was abused or mistreated. Then I need to get an idea for its temperament.”
Shane stood back, his head cocked slightly to one side as he watched Aaron interact with a dog. “Guessing the calmer the better?”
“Calm is a good start, but we don’t want dogs that are too placid. The dog needs to have enough energy and interest to follow commands at any time, and a strong desire to please humans.”
“You
Walking up to the entrance made him smile. Not because it was a real happy place—the smell of animals was strong, loud barking resonated for at least a mile, and a cloud of gloom seemed to hang over the entire facility—but because of his memories of Becca.
They’d surprised her, telling her they were just taking a regular trip to the grocery store. As soon as she’d realized where they were, her face had lit up and she’d practically bounced with energy.
Shane closed his eyes, pulling that memory close. That was all he’d had for a long time. Just memories, good and bad. He couldn’t imagine having only those for the rest of Becca’s childhood.
“I wasn’t sure you’d show,” a familiar voice said.
Aaron stood by the front desk, dressed in the same style of clothing Shane had seen him in yesterday. It was a lot more low-key than what he’d worn at the VA, and Shane got the sense that this was the way he normally dressed.
He approved. Especially considering he was just wearing a sleeveless black tee and jeans.
Part of that was because he wanted to see the look on Aaron’s face when he showed off two full sleeves of tats. Aaron didn’t disappoint; Shane could practically feel his gaze as it roved over his arms.
“I still don’t know why you’re doing this, but I can’t really afford to pass,” Shane said.
Aaron seemed to consider this, then nodded. He spoke briefly to a woman behind the intake desk, then motioned Shane toward the door that led to the kennels. He didn’t seem to be as nervous here, which made sense. He spent all day working with dogs.
“Why don’t you tell me about the dogs you’ve owned,” he said, and fell into a slow walk toward the kennels.
“First was Sandy. She came from the pound pretty young. My dad got her for me as a present, but she tore the shit out of the brand-new furniture, and he took her back.”
He could see Aaron wince.
“Yeah, I never really forgave him for that. Mom made him sleep on the couch for a month, too. I heard she got adopted again, but he could’ve been bullshitting me.”
“Hopefully he wasn’t,” Aaron said gravely.
Shane hoped so, too.
“We got Tanner from a litter my aunt’s dog had. I pretty much grew up with him. He was a chow and rottweiler mix, I think. Parents couldn’t afford to get him snipped for a while, so he was a randy son of a bitch. But he calmed down after that.”
“Did you teach him any tricks?”
“A few, yeah. Basic shit. Sit, lay down, roll over.”
Aaron nodded, then stopped to examine the clipboard on one of the kennels. An older dog looked up at him as he did so.
“What happened to him?”
“I’m not really sure,” Shane said with a frown. “He started ripping things up. Never had a problem before that. Mom tried to correct him, reached for his collar and he turned around and damn near tried to take her arm off. Vet said it happens sometimes with older dogs. Kinda like a type of dementia? He told us it was best to put him down.”
“I’m sorry,” Aaron said softly, and it sounded like he meant it.
“Yeah. It happened right after I enlisted, so…”
Aaron just nodded, crouching in front of another kennel and holding his hand out to a pit bull mix.
“What are you looking for?” Shane asked, pretty eager to change the subject.
“On the papers, I’m looking for any information they have about the dog, like where it came from, who owned it previously, whether or not it was abused or mistreated. Then I need to get an idea for its temperament.”
Shane stood back, his head cocked slightly to one side as he watched Aaron interact with a dog. “Guessing the calmer the better?”
“Calm is a good start, but we don’t want dogs that are too placid. The dog needs to have enough energy and interest to follow commands at any time, and a strong desire to please humans.”
“You
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