A New Leash on Life (7 page)

Some of my former classmates called me crazy for working in such duress. I began to think so, too, until I met Melanie. Her aura soothed me. She walked in one day, long feathery peppered hair swinging around her, with the prettiest green Conure bird. She found Lucky while out on a walk with her dog that afternoon. Lucky evidently escaped from his home, got injured, and fell sick. No one wanted to deal with her bird. Lucky intrigued me. So, I offered. I learned about birds a little in school, but not nearly enough to diagnose the problem. Nonetheless, I offered to hydrate Lucky and clip her wings. Melanie thanked me a day later with a gift certificate to Outback Steakhouse and a sweet thank you card. I helped her pick out Lucky’s new bird cage, a wall-length, mammoth one complete with swings, toys, birdbaths, and all the seeds imaginable.

A month later, she returned with Lucky to ask for my help with clipping her wings again. The hospital didn’t want to start treating Conures, and so the boss reprimanded me for surrendering to Melanie’s plea. So, I offered to come out to her house to clip her wings and nails the next time.

On my first visit, she confessed that she had taken Lucky to three different hospitals that first afternoon and no one showed an ounce of compassion, except for me. This floored me, because I didn’t understand how a doctor who dedicated her life to caring for animals wouldn’t step back for a moment, see the big picture of a sick bird in dire need of water and care, and not step up to the plate and drive home the needed solution.

By my fifth visit, she had counseled me on everything from breathing correctly to transferring the right energy to my pet patients. She was a reiki master, and this intrigued me almost as much as surgery did. I trusted her. She, as well as Lucky, changed the course of my life. Within a blink, I had secured the building and resources to reopen the old town shelter and outfitted it with a medical facility on site to care for all domesticated animals, regardless of if they grew feathers or fur.

Twenty-five years my senior, Melanie became that person I relied on to check myself, to keep me focused, to stay centered. She also came in to my life at just the right time, when I needed someone to trust, three years after my parents both died in a car accident. Melanie swooped in and cradled my broken soul with her wide expanse of spirit and knack for healing. I learned to trust again. In return, I clipped Lucky’s wings, supplied her with every imaginable delicacy any fine Conure could ever want, and an endless supply of referrals for her reiki business, both in adopted pets and parents.

We were two friends in perfect control over our lives, deterred by no one, especially romantic partners. Well, I was more in control in that department than Melanie. She dabbled in a date here and there with mysterious women and boring men, but always backed off just when things steamed up a bit too much for her.

Many years before, she had married her mechanic, Henry, who drove her crazy with his rants about how unlucky they were to be stuck in the small town. They met when her sixty-nine Ford Mustang lost its muffler on the side of the interstate one rainy Saturday afternoon. He drove up in a tow truck and in less than one year, they married under the gazebo at Huntington State Park with two strangers they plucked up from the side of the fishing pond to serve as witnesses. They enjoyed about two years of honeymoon bliss before Henry started hiding out in his garage, eating breakfast, lunch, and dinner out there and replacing his joy for sexual romps in bed with his new wife with used car parts and a lady named Bethany who constantly needed her oil changed. Bethany had wrapped her pretty little arms around more than just Henry. Melanie confessed to me that she enjoyed Bethany even more than Henry did. The end came when Henry popped home for lunch only to find Melanie and Bethany hot and bothered on their bed getting off on each other under the covers. Later, Henry and Melanie both admitted their love had fizzled and probably had seen its finest days in the first sixty days of marriage back before Melanie realized how much she hated the smell of grease and hand cleaner and Henry hated the smell of sage. The two split, remained friendly, and still each enjoyed their fair share of sexual pleasure from Bethany before she ran off with a wealthy banker from Pennsylvania. Soon after that, Henry had failed to secure the lift before getting under it to fix his Buick, and the car fell on him, crushing him to death.

Melanie told me time and again how much she preferred living alone. Being tied down to one person when you’re a bisexual is nearly impossible,” she said on more than one occasion. “It’s like being told you have to choose between shelter and food. How can I survive with only one of those?”

I knew this to be true from Chloe who always tested her eyes on guys. “That’s why I’d never get tangled up with a bisexual ever again. I’d always have to worry if the girl wished I had a penis to help rock her world.”

“For me, I like my freedom to choose. We’re all free spirits who thrive on special moments. I like to keep my options open. I don’t want to be boxed in. I enjoy my privacy and would never want to depend on another human being to fulfill me in ways I couldn’t fulfill myself.”

I agreed.

I never wanted a Henry in my life.

I couldn’t be bothered. No one could be trusted with my heart. I’d dated over the years, but never committed. I refused to be that lesbian who pulled up in a U-Haul on the second date.

Fuck love. I’d take freedom and guilt-free sex over the drama of a relationship any day.

~ ~

Now that the town languished under a pool of water and threatened my shelter, I needed to focus more than ever on things I could control. After shaking off the sad sights of the television, I decided to call my friend Phil at the county jail and tell him to bring me the weakest and most vulnerable pets. I’d figure something out.

The shelter, consisting of twenty dog kennels, a free roaming cat room with carpeted nooks and crannies, another room with various finches, parakeets, gerbils, ferrets and even a tarantula, buckled with the addition of new animals. Over the course of two days, Phil had brought in four more dogs and ten cats.

He arrived around four o’clock that afternoon with our fifth dog in need of rehab. I placed her in the kennel closest to the isolation ward, to where Snowball struggled for her life. She snuggled up and pointed her big doe eyes at me. “You’ll be okay now, little girl.” I blew her a kiss and closed the gate. “I’ll be back to check on you in a few minutes.” Her concerned eyes followed me until I rounded the corner to where Phil stood staring at a chart describing dog breeds.

“How many more do you think are out there?” I asked.

He turned to me. “How many more can you take?”

“Well, maybe if I get some temporary large crates, we can take on a few more.”

“Olivia,” he cocked his head and adjusted his pants, which dragged down by the enormous gun holstered to his belt. “This could stretch on for longer than temporary.”

“I’ll figure something out. It’s better than having them drown or starve.”

“I’ve got an idea,” he said. He bit his lower lip and walked around back to the kennels. The dogs howled and barked. Some just stared at his burly figure, too scared to move. He counted the kennels. “Ben at the hardware store waited out the storm, too. I’m sure he’s got some fencing or plywood he wouldn’t mind donating. We could rig all of these kennels and double your capacity.”

I pulled on his arm. “Would you talk to him for me?”

“I’m on it.” He scanned the door leading to the isolation room. “Do you mind if I say hello?”

I waved him to the door and he led the way.

He walked up to Snowball’s kennel and stuck his finger through the bars. “Hey, little girl.” She rose, stretched and wobbled over to him, still sleepy from her meds. She licked his fingers and he scratched behind her ears.

I opened the gate. “Go ahead. I know you want to snuggle.”

He walked into her kennel and knelt down and Snowball hung her head low. He petted her between her ears and she relaxed into his touch. “Is she getting better?”

“She’s coming along. It’s still too early to tell if she’s responding fully to the meds, though. Unfortunately, parvovirus digs its ugly fangs too deeply and can take over.”

He cooed and hugged her. “You’re going to survive this. And when you get better and are ready for your first walk outside, Ms. Olivia is going to let me be the one to take you.”

“You might have to fight Melanie on that one.”

“Or maybe I’ll finally charm my way into her day and talk her into letting me come along.” He looked up at me and winked.

He had a better chance of skyrocketing to the moon with an air compressor attached to his back. “Yeah, maybe.”

Phil hinted often. Melanie pretended not to notice.

“Listen, if no one comes for her, I want to adopt her.” He scratched behind her ears and she leaned into his touch more.

“She certainly hopes so.”
And
, I wanted to add,
Melanie just might consider a date with you after all, considering this new turn in Snowball’s future.

He turned to me. “Take extra good care of her, okay?”

I nodded, concerned for her health and for his premature emotional attachment to her.

~ ~

In the weeks that followed the storm, the town started to rebuild. Cars started to drive down the street again. Joggers ran past the shelter again. Moms with small children and dogs walked past. Even Snowball bounced back after a series of successful rounds on strong meds. Everything started to spring back to life, all except the leaky roof, the cracked concrete in the kennel walls, the overcrowded double kennels, and of course the absence of many donation checks.

We arranged a pancake breakfast, complete with a volunteer from K-9 Trainers and the usual hundred-person crowd we attracted didn’t come. Sadly, only two families showed for it and donated twenty dollars each. Worse, they didn’t bother to visit with the adoptable pets. We were used to adopting out several and cashing in several hundred from this type of event. We dumped a lot of pancake batter down the drain that day.

We arranged a dog wash day another day. I purchased some donuts, coffee, and juice and waited for people to flow through the door to wash their doggies in our oversized sinks with the nifty ramp. The fifty or so people I usually got to attend that type of event didn’t show. I tossed out a few dozen donuts that day.

“I don’t know what to do,” I said to Melanie one afternoon while she sat in Snowball’s kennel and channeled her energy to the sick dog. “The town is unresponsive.”

“I can offer some reiki treatments if it’ll help. We’ll ask for a donation that is half the usual treatment price I charge at my studio.”

“Can you afford to do that? Didn’t you lose a lot of clients this month?”

“That’s why I’m here in the middle of the day.” She rubbed her hands together forming the energy ball and targeted it over Snowball’s tummy. “I’d rather be doing something productive than sitting around twiddling my thumbs.”

“I’m afraid people aren’t even going to be willing to pay half price for reiki treatments. Everyone is strapped waiting on help from the government.”

The end of the month raced towards us and I had no extra funding after paying the overhead bills to fix the structural problems in the shelter. I had to cancel our usual spot in the
Valley Breeze Community Newspaper
because I needed the cash to cover the extra kibble needed to feed double the hungry mouths. So, I relied on my website to pique the interest of potential adopters.

“Give it time,” Melanie said, stretching her hands the full length of Snowball. “Everything will come back around.”

The townspeople strained to dig up money to fund their own rehabilitation projects. I needed help sooner than later. “It’ll be months before any of us see funding to get us the repairs we all need.”

“You’re killing my energy here,” she said, stopping.

“I’m sorry. I’ll let you be.” I backed away and she returned her focus to Snowball.

I walked down the kennel aisle and looked into the hopeful eyes of dog after dog. They relied on me, and I needed to step up to the challenge. I needed to look beyond the town and somehow get outsiders to understand our plight. I knew just who to turn to.

When Josh answered, sounding rushed and surely on his way out the door to one of his son’s many baseball practices, I cut right to it. “I need your help with getting someone up here to interview me.”

He cleared his throat. “I’m a production assistant, not the general manager of the network.”

“Do what you can, please.”

“Is it that bad?”

“Worse,” I said.

“I’d loan you some, but I’m barely able to pay my mortgage each month.”

“I just need a reporter, cameraman, and some coverage outside the scope of Elkwood.”

“I’ll see what I can do. It’ll cost you a night of babysitting your nephew if I succeed.”

“Done.”

“Fine,” he said. “Oh, and,” he blew out a breath, “I read something troubling last week.”

“Hint, please.”

“Did you know Melanie’s house is in foreclosure?”

“That’s absurd. She and Henry inherited that house from his parents like twenty years ago.”

“Well, I went there for a treatment the other day and when she went to the bathroom, I went to get myself a glass of water and the notice was on the counter, opened. Maybe after Henry died, she took out an equity line of credit.”

After Henry died and she moved back in to the house, she gutted out the living room and turned it into a reiki studio. She also bought a new four-wheel drive truck and took a vacation to Spain for two months. “Anything’s possible.” Her clutter entered my mind, and I dreaded the day she’d ask for help in clearing it out. I couldn’t deal with one more thing on my plate. “I’m not going to bring it up. So, you don’t either, okay?”

“I’m heading over there for a reiki treatment tomorrow. I’ll do my best.”

“I’ll babysit for you if you can manage an interview,” I said.

“Done.”

~ ~

Working in a shelter required lots of patience and emotional control. Some of the pets had been abused, malnourished, unloved for years. Many arrived wagging their tails anticipating a fun field trip with their owners only to be discarded at our front desk with a pat on the head and a shrug.
He’s too much work. She pees in the house. He sheds too much. He barks all the time. She’s just too big.
As a responsible guard of animal welfare, a shelter worker simply thanked the person for not abandoning their pet on the side of the road. Lecture these people and they’d do that next time, for sure.