Love To The Rescue (6 page)

“This is Leslie Gibson.” Amy glanced at her friend. “She’s also contemplating an adoption.”

Mrs. Swainson reached for Amy’s adoption application. “You’d like to adopt one of our dogs, too?”

Leslie leaned her arm on the desk. “Actually, I’m considering the little yellow cat out front.”

“Oh, yes, Priscilla. She’s a sweetheart. Her owner is quite elderly and wasn’t able to care for her properly. The owner’s daughter brought her in yesterday.”

“Could you give me one of those application forms, please? I called my boyfriend and he told me to go for it.” Leslie smiled and admitted, “I think it was love at first sight.”

Mrs. Swainson laughed. She stood and called over the enclosure, “Linda, would you help this lovely young lady fill out an application to adopt Priscilla?”

“Sure. Have her walk over here to my station,” came Linda’s reply.

Leslie jumped up from her seat. “Oh, yay! See you later, Amy.” She disappeared around the corner.

“Now, let me review your application.” Mrs. Swainson slipped on a pair of eyeglasses. Amy held her breath, but soon felt herself in need of oxygen. She took a deep breath and crossed her fingers under the table for luck.

“Your application looks wonderful. You’re definitely an excellent candidate to adopt. I just have a few questions first.”

Soon, the paperwork was processed, her application for adoption was approved, and the moment Amy had been waiting for arrived.

“Shall we go see the dogs?” Mrs. Swainson led Amy over to the dog pods where the adoptable pooches were housed in individual kennels each with a viewing window. Each dog was supplied with food and water dishes, toys, and a bed in his own enclosure.

Amy’s heart went out to all the four-footed inhabitants that peeked up at her when they spotted her looking through the glass at them. They resembled little furry inmates waiting to be sprung from solitary confinement. There was a poodle terrier cross, a cocker spaniel puppy whose entire body waggled when he noticed her, and an adorable little ball of fluff with feet. The white Bichon cross bounced up and down, paws on the wall, and stared up at Amy. The friendly little dog would have licked the burglars to death instead of frightening them away. A docile golden retriever never glanced her way when she looked into his enclosure. And a laidback bulldog would have stared at a robber with a take-whatever-you-want expression during a break-in, and then watched the burglars haul her possessions out the door.

Amy didn’t require a guard dog, she reminded herself. She wanted a four-footed companion that would bark if he heard a strange noise. None of the dogs she’d seen so far was ‘the one’. And she felt torn between relief that she wouldn’t have to take on the responsibility of a pet and disappointment that it appeared there weren’t any suitable dogs at the facility.

She followed Mrs. Swainson around another corner. A flash of red caught her eye when she peered into the next pod. “Oh, look at that beautiful Irish setter!”

The yips and yelps of the other inmates in the building faded into oblivion. All of Amy’s attention centered on this extraordinary animal. She cringed as her eyes swept over the outline of each rib, and her heart melted when she noticed the fear in his dark brown eyes.

“Yes, he most certainly is a gorgeous dog.” Mrs. Swainson grimaced as she continued, “The poor fellow was treated terribly by his previous owner: starved, beaten, and kicked. The city received a call about a terrified dog hiding in a garage one night, and he was picked up. The city workers couldn’t find any owner ID tag, city license tag, or a tattoo. He was wearing an inexpensive metal tag on his collar, however, and that told them his name was Rover. No one inquired about an Irish setter or came to claim him, and there was no way to trace ownership. After a few days, the dog came here for adoption.”

“The poor thing,” cooed Amy.

“I’ve seldom seen a dog so untrusting, but when you consider all the mistreatment he’d endured, I couldn’t blame him. He’d been on his own for some time judging by his shabby condition. He’s been here for a couple of weeks now, making remarkable progress, and he just went up for adoption this morning. Rover could be such a splendid pet with a little TLC and a lot of patience, and we’re all praying he finds a good home.”

“Rover.” Amy stared through the window at the dog. He hung his head, but a few seconds later, he looked back at her with a wary expression.

“Would you like to meet with him in one of our visitation rooms?” asked Mrs. Swainson.

“I’d love to!” exclaimed Amy.

Mrs. Swainson directed her to a nearby interview room. Just then Leslie caught up to them in the hallway.

“Amy, I got her! She’s already spayed and has her shots and I can take her home today. I’m going to pick up a cat carrier at the store and some food and some toys and...” Leslie beamed and performed an impromptu happy dance right there in the hallway. “I own a cat!”

Mrs. Swainson chuckled, “Congratulations, dear. I’m off to fetch Rover.”

“I’m happy for you.” Amy waved Leslie into the interview room, and they each took a chair. “I hope this wasn’t just a spur-of-the-moment thing that you’re going to regret.”

“No way.” Leslie beamed. “While I was lying in bed last night, I thought about you adopting a dog today, and I realized I’ve always wanted a cat to snuggle with on the couch while I’m watching my TV shows. I’d hoped to find a nice little cat, but I didn’t say anything even to Rick in case I jinxed it.”

“Well, wait until you see the beautiful guy I’m considering adopting,” gushed Amy, grinning.

Mrs. Swainson returned with Rover a few minutes later. “He won’t make a fuss with women. And he loves children. It’s just men he can’t abide.”

Amy leaned forward in her seat, slowly extended her hand for the dog to sniff. “Hi, Red Rover,” she whispered. Surprisingly, the dog took a tentative step forward and sniffed her outstretched hand. He licked her fingers and Amy noticed an almost imperceptible tail wag.

“Red Rover?” asked Leslie.

Amy smiled. “Remember the game we played on the school grounds at recess when we were kids?
‘Red Rover, Red Rover, let Amy come over.’
I used to love that game.” Amy felt a smile creep across her face. She patted the dog’s head, stroked one silky ear.

“Oh yeah, I hated that game,” said Leslie, sounding disgusted. “I was so small everyone always headed straight for me because they knew they’d break through the line every time.”

When Amy slowly stood, the dog ducked his head. After a minute, with a bit of encouragement from Amy he cautiously took another step closer.

“Well, Rover’s beautiful red coat reminded me of it.”

“He is a beauty,” agreed Leslie.

Amy ran her hand down the dog’s long back while Rover eyed her suspiciously. “I won’t hurt you, big guy. I can feel every rib on this dog, Mrs. Swainson. He needs someone to fatten him up a bit.”

“That’s why he’s up for adoption. He’s been through a horrendous situation, but he’s done wonderfully well here. Haven’t you my pretty boy?” Mrs. Swainson patted Rover’s head, and then she met Amy’s eyes, grinning. “If I didn’t already own three dogs, I would have adopted him myself. But my husband would have disowned me if I had.”

“Three?” asked Amy, incredulously.

“We live a few miles south of the city off Macleod Trail on an acreage. All three dogs were adopted from here, all German shepherds.”

“We had shepherds when I was growing up. But I always loved Irish setters for some reason,” said Amy, wistfully.

“Rover will make a good companion for someone who is patient with him while he continues to learn to trust people again. The vet suspects Rover was a woman’s dog at one time since he’s so trusting of women. But some man has abused this dog.”

Amy smiled. “He’s not especially wary of me.”

“Like I said, he tolerates women and adores children. One of the volunteers had her son with her during a walk with Rover. Rover licked the boy’s face a couple of times and wagged his tail during the entire outing.” Mrs. Swainson met Amy’s eyes. “Are you married? Dating? Rover is still quite leery of men. He has become friends with a couple of our male workers here, however, now that he’s learned they won’t hurt him.”

“I’m widowed, and I’m not dating anyone.” Amy had removed her wedding band and engagement ring only last night and tucked them into her jewelry box. She just couldn’t use the term single. Yet. But she was beginning to feel comfortable with the idea of dating again.

“A dog will learn to trust anyone who proves himself. Kindness will win out over fear in the end. Rover has regained a lot of his confidence in the time he’s been here. And he’s overcome a lot of his trepidations around strangers. He’ll make a splendid pet.” Mrs. Swainson patted Amy’s hand. “If you think Rover is the dog for you, I don’t see any reason why he shouldn’t be yours. I can tell by the way he’s leaning against your leg right now while you’re scratching his ear that he’s taken to you.”

Amy glanced down at the dog, unaware of the animal leaning against her. And then she laughed. “I guess he’s picked me instead of the other way around.”

Mrs. Swainson beamed. “Wonderful. He came to us neutered, and he’s had all his shots. You can take him home today.” Her expression turned serious again. “I would recommend you sign him up for our class called Fearful Fido. The instructor will provide exercises for you to help with his fear-of-men issues.”

Amy chuckled. “I love that name, Fearful Fido. I’ll sign us up right away.”

“How is Rover with cats, Mrs. Swainson?” asked Leslie.

“No problem with cats at all. Your pets should be quite compatible. But if you’d like to test them, let’s go get Priscilla.”

“Great idea,” agreed Leslie.

“Those two could be spending a lot of time together,” added Amy.

When Mrs. Swainson and Leslie headed down the hallway to fetch Leslie’s cat, Amy leaned forward and placed a kiss on the top of Rover’s head. A bit of doggie odor drifted upward and assailed her nostrils. She cupped his head in her hands and met the dog’s eyes, “I’m so happy that you’re mine, and don’t worry. I won’t leave your side at the fearful classes. But first thing on the agenda when you come home is a bath.”

****

When they left the Humane Society a half hour later, Rover rode shotgun up front while Leslie and the cat carrier sat in the second row seats. Amy stopped at Cuts and Curls when Leslie insisted on showing her staff the new addition to the family.

“I’ll get Rick to pick me up later.”

“Okay, have fun with Priscilla,” said Amy.

“I will.” Leslie beamed as she hauled the cat carrier and bag of supplies out of the vehicle. “I’ll call you tonight to see how you guys are doing.”

“Call my cell, in case we’re out walking. And remember you have to pick up your car at my house.”

“Will do. Bye.”

A few minutes later, Amy and Rover pulled into the driveway of her dog’s new home. Amy had hoped to train him to ride in the back, even collapsed the third row seating and placed one of the two dog beds she’d purchased back there for him. But Rover wasn’t having any of it. For this one time only, Amy had capitulated. She intended to buy a wire barrier to keep him back there.

“Red Rover, Red Rover, can Rover come over.” Amy smiled as she pulled into her garage. “Welcome home, big guy.”

Rover turned and met her eyes. She would swear the dog smiled at her.

An hour later, Amy finished mopping up the mess on her bathroom floor. Either Rover had never experienced bathing before or he enjoyed it immensely, because there was an equal measure of water on the floor as remained in the tub when Amy declared the dog clean.

“You actually have a shiny coat.” Amy dried her new companion with an old faded blue cotton bath towel she’d discovered at the back of the linen closet. “If you let me comb you and cut out the dreadful matted bits I found, you’ll be one handsome fellow. A few weeks of nutritious food and you’ll look better than ever.”

Rover woofed.

“If that means you second the motion, then let’s get busy with this comb.”

By ten o’clock, Amy fell into bed, totally exhausted. She’d bathed the dog, combed the dog, fed and watered the dog, cooked and ate a microwaveable frozen dinner for herself, walked the dog, pooper scooped after the dog did his business, romped around the back yard with him, and tucked him into his brand new oversized doggie bed in the far corner of her bedroom. In addition to her new four-footed security system, she set the security alarm as well.

“You are a lot of work, Rover. But you’re all mine now, and I wouldn’t trade you for anything.” Amy turned out the light and tucked the covers up under her chin.

Feeling safe and secure, she dozed off to sleep in a minute.

****

Amy awoke to songbirds cheerfully serenading her outside the window. She never set an alarm clock unless she needed to be somewhere early the next morning. As an author, she set her own schedule: woke when she wanted to, ate when she wanted to, worked on her writing when she wanted to, went to bed when she wanted to. She firmly believed she had the best job in the world. And she made a good living and paid the bills.

Suddenly, Amy became aware of something large and hot lying against her side. She opened her eyes and discovered Rover stretched out in doggie bliss sleeping along side her atop the bed.

“
What
do you think you’re doing?”

Rover’s head whipped up and he met her eyes. Immediately, the dog lowered his head, knew he was in trouble. She could almost read his mind. His sad brown eyes silently pleaded with her:
I’m sorry. Don’t hit me.

“Are you comfortable? When did you sneak up here?” Amy struggled to sustain her strict tone of voice, but she suspected a smile creased her face. “I must have been tired. I didn’t even feel the mattress dip.”

Rover’s wary eyes never blinked, and his expression said,
please don’t stop loving me
.

“Don’t do that again, mister.” Amy wagged her finger at the offender. A few seconds later, she ruffled his fur and scratched behind his ears. “Okay, you’re forgiven. But you stay in your own bed, you hear?”