Dog for a Duo (Verdy)

Verdy refused to stress over what she was going to wear to meet up with Andrew. It was not a date they were going on, it was an adoption mission. She told herself so the first time she went to her closet in the morning after her shower. And the second time after breakfast. And the third time too, which she followed up by a resolution not to return to her closet again.

A resolution which she swiftly broke.

Finally clad in her t-shirt sporting a little kid in a dino suit a pair of jeans and her black and white connies she was ready to go. It wasn’t until she was waiting for Andrew in the foyer that she doubted her final choice and the message it might send. Well, too late now. The tattoo’s disappearance was, like he said, a backwards version of what it had been when it was made. She appreciated him remembering, and the trip to the shelter was over quickly and with nothing more exciting than an almighty sneeze to greet the pollen-covered trees as they exited the Mansion.

They arrived at the shelter and entered, much to the apparent disgust and boredom of the respective receptionists. While Andy explained their intentions she took a moment to observe the advertisement for petfood on the desk. The picture was what appeared to be a cat-shifting mutant, proclaiming with a Cheshire-grin that it was ‘good enough to eat’. The donations box and a stack of forms to fill in for sponsorship of the shelter also received a cursory glance before the crabby woman spoke.

“A pet is not a test-baby, animals live for years and should not be used to trial having a family.”

The monotoned drone seemed as if she had recited this multiple times to couples their age and Verdy hid a laugh behind a convincing cough and glanced at Andy. Just because they were technically old enough to be married and looking to become parents didn’t mean they were.

“Ah, no actually, we’re just looking for a dog. No babies.”

At first Verdy suspected that there were two copies of each, one for her and one for Andrew. All too soon she realised that the two moderate piles combined into one super-pile. The receptionist sure was a drill sergeant, and Verdy found herself practically marching over to a seat to read through the information pamphlets, from ‘A guide to your shelter dog’ to ‘Zero tolerance for pet abuse’.

She smirked at his whispered ponderings and glanced up at the woman who was pounding letter-by-letter on the keyboard. It was remarkable she hadn’t dislodged a key with the force she was putting into it, surely they went through a high turnover if that was the way she always treated them.

“I dunno, but whatever it is it looks like she’s been bitter about it for a while.”

The woman’s face was practically frozen in the same expression of distaste, and Verdy was certain that if she raised her eyebrows there would be tan-lines from the scowl.

The pamphlet was mainly simple, but the words were too small for her, so after a moment rummaging through her bag she retrieved her glasses and perched them on her nose. This could take a while.

People to’d, people fro’d, people entered, were seen to by the receptionist and joined them in different waiting chairs with similar piles. Verdy struggled her way through a wordy tome on dog discipline and ‘how to be the alpha’ and skimmed through the brightly coloured page on getting your pet micro chipped and spayed or neutered.

Finally there was a meaningful ‘ah-hem’ and they were allocated a worker. The man seemed an exact opposite to the grumpy lady, his face was crinkled with smile-lines and he spoke gently to them. He also insinuated nothing about the pair testing if they would be compatible parents. For that, she was grateful. Andy was a nice guy, sweet, friendly and cute to boot, but they barely knew each other and children were way, way down her list of priorities.

Dipping her head in acknowledgement of the man’s apology, but tactfully saying nothing about just how severe the woman was they followed him down a long corridor, where enthusiastic barking got louder and louder the further they progressed. Once again she was reminded of the noise of the homeless shelter, the demands and shoving in the line for the soup kitchen, and the hopelessness on many of the faces of the ‘regulars’.

Her heart was beating about twice the normal rate and she could feel her knees trembling a little. A howl rose up above the general clamour and she grabbed Andrew’s hand and held it tight. This wasn’t the shelter, here there was hope for adoption, someone coming to rescue each furry person from the cages they were kept in.

Turning a corner they came to a door with a big glass window in the top of it, through which the fronts of the cages were visible. They were a lot larger than she expected, and the trembling stopped in her knees and the dead weight in her stomach lifted. Everything was going to be all right. The elderly man smiled at them.

“Here we are, do you know what you are looking for? Or would you like some time to just walk around and look?”

Verdy nodded, everything was going to be alright, Andrew was here with her and this was a safe place, a halfway home for dogs on the way to a new life.

“Sounds good to me.”

The man unlocked the door and smiled at them, the door could be pushed open from the inside, but it was locked from the outside to prevent theft. He outlined the basic breakdown of the chart on each cage-front and explained that he would be outside looking over some paperwork when they were done.

They entered and the behaviour of the dogs changed. Frantic barkers froze, those sleeping in corners opened weary eyes and pups and smaller dogs gave high-pitched squeals of excitement. Most assumed the pleading face which only dogs knew how and Verdy took a deep breath. This would be a tricky choice. Although with the memory that Andrew liked larger dogs and the resolution never to be seen walking a ‘cutesy’ miniature ball of fluff cut it down. The shelter seemed to be organised from youngest to oldest, most adopters were looking for a puppy, or something equally as adorable, so they were placed at the entry, gradually moving to the bigger and older dogs the deeper into the corridor.

Eyeing the first few cages full of yippy small dogs she pondered them. They were likely to get homes in apartments or with singles. With the entire grounds of the Mansion available for ‘walkies’ and two parental figures they were in the market for something a little larger. Besides, small dogs tended to be a bit more snappy than their larger counterparts and Verdy was quite fond of her ankles. Squeezing Andy’s hand again she released it and put both her hands into her jeans pockets as they walked and observed. She felt remarkably calm now that they had stepped through the doors, and she inspected each dog carefully.

The larger dogs seemed a little more dignified than the smaller ones, they stood at the front of the cages and wagged their tails and some barked, but there were no somersaults like the younger dogs. There were spotty dogs and fluffy dogs, dogs that seemed pleased to see them and sniff at the fingers she pressed up against the mesh, dogs that simply glared.

There was one that looked like his whole body was covered in dreadlocks. The nickname on the nametag hanging from the door was ‘Lockie’, so apparently someone in the shelter had a sense of humour. She chuckled at the funny dog (a perfect companion for a surfer, as it ‘adored water’) but moved on. They were sure to know the right one when they saw it.

Purebred and mutts, short-haired and long, each had their appeal, yet none seemed quite right.

A German Shepherd pup almost swayed her resolution to choose something that needed them, with its mismatched eyes and floppy ears but a gentle whine from behind her caught her ear and tugged on her heartstrings. Turning to it she met a pair of big brown eyes in a black and white face. Moving over to it she checked the tag on the door

‘Nameless, dog 7045’

Crouching down she pressed her fingers against the mesh where they were met with a pink tongue. He was breedless, a real ‘bitza’, fluffy black legs and tail, black and white body, mismatched ears and a friendly face. The tail swept back and forth against the floor and a wet black nose sniffled at her hopefully.

“Andy…”

There was something about this one. Something that made her angry at the ticked ‘abused’ box on the form and her heart feel like it was swelling like an inflating balloon. She refused to cry, but her breath caught a little as the dog whined at Andrew when he approached.

The dog seemed happy to meet Andrew too and his tail moved from swishing to thumping against the ground. She took a deep breath and looked away from the big brown eyes and into the hazel ones beside her. She would not do the child-like ‘puh-leeeeeeeease’ however her eyes could not be controlled and matched the expression in the dog’s eyes in everything but colour, a startling green instead of deep brown.

“I think so…”

Why she was whispering escaped her, it just seemed fitting in that time and place. Looking back at the dog she put her finger through the mesh and scritched under his chin.

“What do you think buddy? Huh? Wanna come home with us?”

The dog’s eyes rolled closed in pleasure at the attention and the tail-thumping continued. Reaching up to the form to unhook it from the door she brought it down and inspected it. They could provide exercise and gentle care, the fact that he was good with children was a plus living in the mansion and while she wasn’t sure what ‘lactose intolerant’ meant in a dog she was sure they could cater to it.

So that was what lactose meant. She frowned and tried to recall what else she had read that dogs weren’t supposed to eat… Chocolate and coffee stood out, and she suspected onions, but would have to double check. Their dog would be a slightly fussy eater, but that would be fine, if it didn’t bother Andrew, it didn’t bother her.

Almost rubbing heads with Andrew as they looked over the sheet, he smelled nice she noted, the man’s friendly voice startled her and she jumped. Andrew answered his question as she calmed herself, no point looking like a nervy nut. She checked the dog’s age. He wasn’t that old, a while out of puppy-hood, but not into the twilight years of drooling on carpets and sleeping endlessly.

The man unlocked the cage door and slipped a harness over the dog’s shoulders (she noted the lack of collar) with a lead clipped to it. The dog followed willingly, not dragging on the lead but close on the old man’s heels.

“If you will follow me I’ll take you to the socialising room where you can spend some time together and get a start on the paperwork.”

Ah yes, paperwork. She had checked up on the library computers the day before and the requirement for adopting a dog, as well as a bunch of forms, was ID from someone over eighteen. She glanced at Andrew, if he was under eighteen, not only was he absurdly tall and mature, he was smart enough to be in college already. She highly doubted that. Taking their place in another, smaller room littered with balls and other toys with two or three seats the man fixed them up with the paperwork and left them to it, the lead unclipped and placed on the small coffee-table. Verdy waited until he was gone to turn to Andrew.

“Do you have any ID? I’m not sure they’ll take my library card.”

It was, she was certain, pretty much the only thing which had her date of birth on it, except for the prescription for her reading glasses, which she had packed just in case. The dog ran about the room for a few minutes, sniffing everything excitedly, before returning to them and sitting tail-wagging tongue-lolling grinning at them.