All I Want for Christmas is Pooch

Chapter 2

Chapter 2

The black lab bounced on the concrete floor in front of her, yanking playfully on the blue leash wrapped around Doug Gibson’s hand. The two children at his side did not look nearly as cheerful as the pup, tears in their eyes, as they stared at a spot near Noelle’s shoes. She didn’t blame them. She felt the same way on the inside, and this wasn’t even her dog.

“Mr. Gibson,” she said, attempting to keep her voice even, but anger was beginning to seep in. “This is the fourth dog this year.” She took a deep breath and placed her hands on her hips. Then, realizing that might look hostile, which is how she felt, but not how she wanted to appear, she folded them, then changed her mind again and dropped them to her sides--rigid.

“I know that, Noelle,” he said, shaking his head. “But my wife keeps getting ‘em off of Craigslist,” he said with a shrug. “I keep telling her to stop, but she won’t listen to me. This one… he’s just too hyper.”

Noelle’s eyes shifted back to the lab. He was about six months old, not even grown into his paws yet. The last dog had been a chihuahua, she thought. It had been, “too yappy.” Before that, there had been a Rottweiler mix that was, “too large,” and the dog before that, the first one this year, but not the first one this family had dropped off at the shelter, was a tiny terrier mix that had been, of course, “too tiny.”

The dog looked up at her, his tongue hanging out of the side of his mouth in a half pant, half incessant need to lick something, anything. He was just a puppy. In a year or two, with proper training, Blacky would be a good family dog. “Mr. Gibson…” she continued, her attention shifting to the children, “look at your kids.”

He didn’t, only shrugged. “They’re the ones who won’t take care of him.”

“But… if you get him some puppy training--” she began.

He cut her off. “Where? We live in Clarkston, Noelle. We can’t be driving over here for training every week.”

It wasn’t that far. Clearly, it wasn’t so far that he couldn’t make several trips a year to drop a dog off. Not that Holiday Hills even had a dog training program. He’d have to go to one of the bigger cities for something like that. Trying to convince him that it was worth the effort was a waste of her words. He had made his mind up, and Blacky was no longer welcome in the Gibson home.

Mr. Gibson offered her the leash, not for the first time. A volunteer, Maddy Brown, was standing next to her. She gestured for Maddy to take the leash. “You do realize that the chances of a black dog making it out of this shelter are slim to none, right?” she asked, her voice quiet for the children’s sake, but the anger building again.

Mr. Gibson shrugged. “That’s why we brought him to a no kill shelter.”

“Granted, this is a better place to bring a pet than a shelter that would put him down, but what sort of life do you think he’ll have here? We have dozens of dogs, far too many to give them the attention they deserve, the attention a family could give them.”

Again, Mr. Gibson was complacent. “What do you want me to say? This fellow ate one too many slippers. See ya, Blacky.” He turned to head for the door as his children, a little girl who was about nine and a son who had to be about five, began to cry.

Noelle sighed in disgust and turned her back to them, not able to watch those same children cry again. Her eyes fell on Blacky. He wasn’t bouncing now. His tale was between his legs as he suddenly began to realize what was happening. His family was leaving--and he wasn’t. A whimper escaped his lips, and his feet moved back and forth a few times. As the door opened, the chime dinging in dismissal, Blacky gave a few sharp barks.

“Come on, buddy,” Maddy said, stooping as she patted his side. “Let’s go find a place for you.”

“Good luck,” Noelle muttered. The kennels were filling up. This was supposed to be the time of year when people adopted dogs, but with the economic downturn of late, people weren’t doing that, and it had inspired more people to drop their dogs off, or just release them into the world and hope for the best for them. Aggravation set in again. She was going to have to figure something out because her kennels were nearly full, and she didn’t have many ways of moving the current residents out to make room for more.

The chime behind her had her spinning around again. She prayed it was a family there to adopt a pet, but when she saw a stranger holding a fluffy ball of black and white fur, she assumed the worst. “Can I help you?” she asked as another volunteer, the only other one working that Saturday afternoon, Clara Lincoln, came up to her elbow.

Noelle had a feeling she should just let Clara, an older woman with the patience of a saint, handle this one, but when the man spoke, he said, “Hi, I was told to ask for Noelle.”

“That’s me,” she said, trying not to notice the jade green eyes and the square jaw of the man before her. “How can I help you?” She folded her arms, not caring if she suddenly looked rude. Her anger at Mr. Gibson was no longer festering. It was surfacing, and she was about to explode if this man said what she had to assume he was about to say.

“Well, I’m here to drop this little guy off.” His smile was easy, his demeanor nonchalant, as if the adorable pup in his arms had no feelings and didn’t matter.

“Oh, is that so?” Noelle asked, her toe beginning to tap. She heard Clara say her name quietly, but she was done being polite. “What’s the matter? Did he bark at the wrong time? Maybe took a tinkle on your shoe or didn’t sit before he leapt up for a snack?”

“No, it’s not that….” His forehead furrowed, like he was trying to make sense of someone speaking another language.

Again, Clara said, “Noelle? Maybe….”

She cut her off. “No? Then what is it? He isn’t white enough or black enough or small enough for you? What? What is it Mr.…” She realized she didn’t know his name. “Mr. Mister that makes you think you can just abandon this poor, sweet little baby when he clearly wants to stay in your arms, in his home, where he belongs?” By the time she finished, she was practically yelling at him and knew she’d made little to no sense.

Mr. Mister looked from her to Clara and then back again. The dog’s ears perked up, but it didn’t speak. He cleared his throat. “Because… it’s not my dog,” he said quietly.

Noelle’s eyes bulged as she realized her mistake. She felt color warming her cheeks and wished she could go back in time about five minutes--before her rant--and ask that pertinent question first.

The man continued, speaking as much to Clara as to her. “I found him in the park. Well, he sort of found me. He stole my scarf.” Despite the tongue lashing, he still managed to force a chuckle. “Anyway, I ran into a woman named Doris Snow, and she suggested I bring him here, since this is a no kill shelter. She said to ask for you.”

Noelle shook her head as Clara reached for the dog. “I am so sorry,” she said, not quite able to meet his eyes. “I shouldn’t have….”

“No, it’s okay,” he said with a shrug. “I guess you have a lot of people dropping their dogs off?”

She nodded as Clara gushed over the little fellow, looking at his collar. “Oh, isn’t he just the cutest. Pooch, is it?” she asked. The dog’s ears perked up again. “Too bad his tags are so worn off. It shows he’s up to date on his vaccines, but no owner’s name or address on either of the tags. Just his name.”

Noelle studied the dog for a moment. He truly was adorable. She wouldn't have any trouble finding this dog a home. Unlike Blacky, this small, fluffy purebred would be snagged probably the same day he was released from hold. She reached out and patted his head. His fur was soft and fluffy. He was well groomed, only a bit of mud on his paws, probably from his earlier run. Chances were, someone was missing him.

“I’ll find him a holding pen,” Clara said.

“Holding pen?” The man’s eyes followed the dog as Clara began to take him back. She paused.

“Yes. His owner will have a couple of weeks to claim him,” Noelle explained, trying to infuse her voice with professional calmness. “After that, we’ll let people know he’s available, if he’s still here. He’s so cute, I don’t think it’ll take us long to find him a new home. People love small breeds, like Havanese.”

“Havanese?” he repeated, leaning in slightly. She nodded. “I’ve never even heard of that breed.”

“Oh, well, that’s what he is. Purebred, I’d assume. He’ll be fine.” Clara started for the back again, and the man waved at the dog that followed him with his eyes until he couldn’t see him anymore. “Listen, I’m sorry I yelled at you, Mr.…?” Had she actually called him Mr. Mister earlier?

“Brady,” he provided.

“Mr. Brady,” Noelle said with a nod.

“No, I mean, my first name is Brady. Brady Rogers.”

“Oh. Mr. Rogers then.”

“Hence why I gave you my first name,” he said with a nervous smile as Noelle realized she’d just said the name of a famous children’s television star.

She giggled and then offered her hand. “I’m Noelle Snow.”

His eyes widened again and then he gave a knowing nod. Apparently, her mother had not bothered to explain that he’d be asking for her own daughter “It’s nice to meet you,” he said, shaking her hand.

His palm was warm. Noelle chalked up the cozy feeling touching her palm to his created to him holding the dog recently and nothing more. “It’s probably not that nice to meet me,” she said, still feeling bad about her outburst. “It’s just… did you happen to see those kids’ faces, the ones that were leaving as you were coming in?”

“Yeah, I did,” Brady said. “That was terrible.”

“And the dog was even more distraught.” She decided she didn’t need to say more, to go into the state of the shelter at the moment, to tell him how worried she was that they simply weren’t going to have enough money to make it through the end of the year, much less into the next. “Anyway, I am sorry I was so rude.”

“Passionate,” he said, a crooked smile pulling up one side of his mouth. “Let’s call it passionate.”

She gave him a sheepish grin. It was kind of him to be so forgiving. “All right then. Passionate.”

“It was nice to meet you.” He seemed to mean it. Brady looked into her eyes for another second and then walked out the door.

It chimed again, leaving Noelle alone for a few moments. She took a deep breath, held it, and let it go, not sure what to think of any of that. Maddy shouted her name from the back, and Noelle remembered that she had other dogs to take care of. The never ending work beckoned to her. Putting Brady Rogers out of her mind, Noelle hurried to the back to get on with her daily chores and see to her most important clients, the cats and dogs that called this place home.