~ SIENNA ~
“Sorry, we haven’t received a dog like that,” the woman at the table said sympathetically.
Dog hair clung to her cardigan. She didn’t bother brushing it off. It sat there like a badge, proof for anyone who needed convincing that she truly worked at a dog shelter.
“White. Immaculate white…” I continued to describe Cakes as though she hadn’t spoken — or I hadn’t heard her, a picture of my beloved pet on my phone screen held up to her face.
“Ma’am, we have not received any Pomeranians in the last four weeks.”
You would think she hadn’t said a word at all. I kept talking.
“And he doesn’t bark yap yap like the regular Pomeranian. His bark sounds more like… grup grup.” I tried to imitate Cake’s barking, not caring how embarrassing it looked.
This was the last dog shelter in
