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Authors: Erin Emerson

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BOOK: What Would Oprah Do
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The next day when I went in, Alexis was already there drinking coffee in a Starbucks cup. Aha! I knew there was no way she drank the bitter, acidic swill she had in the coffee pot. With the calm, even voice I had practiced the night before, I said, “Alexis, at some point today, I want to go to the kennel. I’d like to see the dogs that I’m volunteering to help.”
She reluctantly agreed to take me over there. There was so much hesitation that I wondered if there actually were dogs there.

“Well, there’s a lot to do in the office, and we don’t have time to waste, but if you insist…we should go now.”
She looked at her watch. She’s the kind of woman, who when everyone else gives up watches since you can just look at your cell phone, will still wear her Cartier. The kennel was right by the office, not even a five minute drive. I figured she was just being difficult, acting like it was a production to take time away from the office work.

There was an empty fenced yard attached to a small building that looked like a little farm house, with a detached garage off to the side. When we walked into the building, a few dogs started barking. We walked into the main room, where there were crates lined up around the side of the walls, making a U shape. Each
one had a small piece of paper with their names on it, like nametags.

“We arranged them like this so they can see each other when they’re in their crates. They’ve already been out this morning.”
Her voice had softened, losing the usual snotty tone that accompanies the sing song way she talks. There was loud thumping, the sound of tails wagging in crates. Out of about thirty crates, only half of them were occupied.

“Do you ever get a full house?”
I asked, realizing that I didn’t know anything about how the rescue operates.

“Just once, after hurricane Katrina, twelve to fifteen is the usual.”
She walked over to one of the crates, and opened the door. A ginger hued golden retriever came running out like a bull from a pin. I squatted down to the floor as she came running over, licking my face and knocking me backwards. “Easy Daisy” Alexis said. Whining immediately ensued from the other dogs.

“Can the others come out?” I asked.

“That’s not a good idea. It’s a bit much unless they’re going into the yard.” We had only been there a few minutes, but Alexis looked at her watch again. “I guess we have a little time.” Looking at one of the other crates, she said, “How about you, Cooper? You want to play for a minute?” She opened Cooper’s crate and he came over with the same gusto Daisy had. I didn’t care what Alexis thought of me sitting on the floor, letting them lick my face.

Cooper was gorgeous, blonde as he could be with eyes that looked like he was wearing black liquid eye liner. “Cooper is from a really good blood line
.” Alexis said adding, “He’ll go fast.” I was glad that he’d find a home soon, but it made me want to hug on Daisy’s big neck even more. All of the sweet retriever faces were peering out at me. They looked like they were in doggy prison behind the grated doors of their crates.

I immediately decided that it was worth putting up with all of Alexis’s snide remarks if ultimately I was helping them. I would stay with it, and practice on Alexis, giving the signals I’d read about that let people know how you want to be treated. It wasn’t long before Alexis checked her watch again, and said we needed to get back. As much as I wanted to tell her that ten more minutes wasn’t going to make a difference, I figured that if what I was doing meant the dogs had homes sooner; there was no reason to argue. I would have plenty of other days to play with the dogs and give them the love and attention they deserved.

Not long after we got back to the office, Alexis left. With her out of the office, the time went by faster, as I continued to enter the information into what would hardly pass as a database by any standard. It was motivating to picture the faces of the homeless dogs. I wrapped up for the day, staying a little longer than planned, until it was time to go to Vivian’s for gardening 101.

When I got there, I found a note on the door. ‘Cate, come on in.’ When I walked in I was greeted by the lingering smell of sautéed onion and garlic, and the
sound of Ella Fitzgerald’s voice in the background. I went to the kitchen, where Vivian was stirring something on the stove top. I got in her line of vision, something l learned from having a mother who startles easily.

“Glad you’re here
.” she said, as she hugged me. Hugging as a standard greeting is one of the best things about living in the south. “I was afraid I wouldn’t hear the door over the music.”

“I love Ella Fitzgerald.”
I said.

“You do? I wouldn’t think somebody of your generation would recognize her.”

“My grandmother was a fan. I love this music, along with Chet Baker, Billie Holiday, Tony Bennett, and Dean Martin. It relaxes me.”

“Me too
.” Vivian was beaming. “I’m just making vegetable soup with the last of the winter crop. I love this time of year, just before spring. And since Atlanta has four proper seasons, you can grow just about anything here if you plan it right.” Gesturing at the pot, as she removed her apron, she said, “I can leave this for a bit, so we can get to work.” Buddy walked into the kitchen, stretching along the way, like he’d just gotten up from a nap. He started sniffing me all over, undoubtedly smelling Daisy and Cooper on my clothes.

“Want to keep me company, while I take him for a walk?” Vivian asked. I started to say that I could take him, but it occurred to me that Vivian might need company more than she needed help with the garden. I didn’t mind, and as I thought about how I had wanted to come here yesterday, I realized that I wanted her
company as much as I wanted a part-time job and a garden to tend.

“I would.”
I answered. Fifteen minutes into our walk, Buddy began to lag behind. “How old is Buddy?”

“He’s seven. This is just him being lazy though. He still has the energy of a puppy. He used most of it chasing squirrels and birds this morning. He’s a damn good garden dog, always stays between the rows, doesn’t dig or trample anything.”

I thought about telling Vivian about the animal rescue, but didn’t want to think or talk about Alexis so I asked
, “What breed is he?”

“He’s a mutt, picked him up from the
Humane Society when he was just a tiny thing. The whole litter was there, but Buddy was off to the side, the runt who wouldn’t fight the others for the food bowl. Something about him was just so gentle; I knew he was the one for me. I looked at him, unable to picture him as a puppy, he had to weigh at least eighty pounds.

After we walked, Vivian and I went into the garden and pulled weeds, removing twigs and leaves as we went. Vivian told me how Betty used to help her when she was little, but by the time she was in high school, she didn’t want anything to do with the garden. “There are garden people and cut flowered people. Garden people can be both, but cut flowered people don’t like to get in the dirt. Betty is a cut flower person.”

I knew exactly what she meant. “My sister, Kay, is a cut flower person.”

Vivian didn’t say anything for a while, and I got into a rhythm of pulling weeds and tossing twigs. A few
minutes later her voice caught me off guard. “You have a sister named Kay?”

“Yes.”
I answered. She had stopped pulling, and was looking at me.

“So, you’re Cate and Kay?”
Then I knew where she was going with this.

“Yeah, my mom says our names are very different. Kay is short for
Mikayla, and I’m Catherine.” Either the sun was in her eyes or she found it as unsatisfactory as we did as children. So I added, “I learned a long time ago, that if you press our mother you’re subjecting yourself to a long diatribe. She would tell us that whenever it mattered, like when we were in trouble, she used our full names anyway. Then she’d go on and on, saying that our dad was set on giving us family names, we should thank her every day of our lives that she went with her side of the family. Otherwise we would be named Eugenia and Mildred.”

Vivian went back to pulling and said, “Kay and Cate, good names.”
After an hour, Vivian stood up and picked up her garden stool. “That’s enough pulling weeds for one day. If I stay here any longer, my back will be stiff as a board later.”

“Do you want me to keep pulling?”
I asked.

“Do you know what would be the biggest help…if you would water the
garden. My arthritis has been acting up lately, and it’s hard on my hands. There are two hoses, one for each side, ready to go.”

“Sure,” I answered. “I would have thought you had a sprinkler system for a garden this size.”

She
shook her head no. “Call me old-fashioned.” Vivian was heading back to the house, but turned around and called out, “I’ll turn the water on. If you notice anything with sagging leaves, that’s its way of saying it’s extra thirsty.” Before I could ask any questions, she was inside.

It took over two hours to water the garden. When I came in, Vivian said we should call it a day. She insisted that I take home a big container of her vegetable soup. By the time I got home, I was worn out, but in a good way, the tired you only get from manual labor. Instead of feeling restless and wanting to go out for cocktails, I took a hot bath and enjoyed the quiet of my condo.

The next morning when I arrived at the animal rescue feeling refreshed and ready to work, there was no sign of Alexis. Time went by quickly and before I knew it my two hours were up. As I moved the last of the stack of paperwork to the other side of the desk I saw a pink post-it note from Alexis. ‘Cate, I looked through the database you’ve created. I thought you would be further along, but it’s good that you’re not since this is hardly up to par. See me tomorrow.’
My face flushed instantly with anger.

She should have told me how she wanted it to begin with, or at least before I wasted another morning of my volunteered time while she was probably at a salon getting a root touch up. As I sat there stewing, I noticed a key ring, marked ‘kennel’ hanging from a hook on the wall. “Fuck you Alexis
.” I said to an empty room. “Fuck you.” as I grabbed the keys and headed to the kennel. I needed a reminder of why I was putting up with her shit, and without Alexis hovering and checking her watch every two minutes, I had my chance to give all of the dogs some love. I walked in and went straight to the crates, quickly opening each one. There was a puppy in the mix, about thirty pounds or so, with feet too big for her body. I noticed her first because she peed on the floor as she came running over. The dogs alternated between nuzzling each other, and greeting me. It became obvious that I couldn’t delay cleaning up the pee. They were running around, and it was only a matter of time before one of them stepped in it. As I walked back to the kitchen for paper towels, I heard soft whimpering. I followed the noise, thinking that maybe there was a sick dog that had been isolated from the others. The closer I got to the noise, I could hear grunting too. Dog fight!

With adrenaline pumping I ran, following the sound into the garage. Frantically looking around, ready to break it up or do whatever was needed, I didn’t see any dogs. Then I noticed the back of two bare legs, a hairy naked ass, and long legs wrapped around the back of the waist. I stood there frozen. As he turned his head, I saw that it was Todd with his groin still pumping. Alexis’s face looked fiercely over his shoulder, with a vein that looked like it was going to pop out of her forehead. “What are you doing here?!” she demanded.

“Me?” I yelled back. “I came to check on the dogs, to play with them! The better question would be what are you doing here, if it weren’t so obvious that you’re whoring around!”

“Oh my God, you stupid bitch!” she yelled back. “Me? You’re pretending to run an animal rescue while you fuck the dog walker! You’ve got me doing bullshit grunt
work, that you’re too lazy or stupid to do, and I don’t know which is worse!”

Alexis pushed Todd away from her. She started to jump down from the work bench she was sitting on, but stopped as she looked down, as if she had forgotten that she was naked except for her lacy pink bra. Todd was quickly pulling up his boxers. “Yes, you are a stupid bitch!”
She was pointing behind me. “Todd, get them! Todd!”

I turned and saw the dogs running around the other side of the garage. I had left the back door wide open. I went to chase after them. Todd was now running through the front yard in his boxer shorts, catching the
dogs one and two at a time and rushing them into the fenced area. Racing after Cooper as he ran across the street, I was chanting in my head,
please don’t let him get hit by a car, please don’t let him get hit by a car
. He kept looking back at me, with what looked like a huge grin on his face. Clearly enjoying the chase, Cooper kept on running even when we got to woods.

He must have gone almost a mile before he stopped. I dove like superman for him, before he could take off again. I landed right beside him, took hold of his collar, and hugged him. The chanting turned into
thank you, thank you, thank you
while he panted in my ear. It was a long walk back. He was too heavy to carry, so we walked awkwardly with me half bent over holding onto his collar.

When we got to the yard I could see Alexis’s Range Rover pulling out from behind the garage. I was going to keep walking, but she pulled up beside me and rolled down her window. Still holding onto Cooper I was unable to stand up straight, but still managed to tilt my head enough to make eye contact.

BOOK: What Would Oprah Do
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