35. Bennett
THIRTY-FIVE
BENNETT
Sophie sent me an email last night to tell me that Marley was off to Syria for an assignment. I ended up not being able to sleep thinking about all the things that could happen to her. It wasn’t until I was mindlessly stirring my coffee this morning that I realized this is why she keeps herself at a distance from people. Or partly why anyway. I hadn’t heard from her in a month, other than a box arriving with my sweatshirt and a note that made me think she missed me but also maybe not. “It doesn’t smell like you anymore.” I repeated that over and over again. The sweatshirt has been sitting in the kitchen since I opened the box, and for some reason, I stuck the postcard to the fridge.
Lloyd, the calf, is settling in well. He spends his days in the pasture with the dogs and then his nights in the stall Karl helped me construct the day after he brought the little guy into my kitchen. Daisy in particular seems to have taken a liking to him. I find their interactions incredibly entertaining and can lose whole chunks of my day watching them. Which is a nice change from losing whole chunks of my day going over the ways I could have changed things with Marley.
You can’t very well tell someone you don’t want them to leave after only knowing them for a few days. You can’t know someone is it for you after such a short time. It just doesn’t seem logical. And yet she is there when I close my eyes or walk into a room. It’s as if this old house has a new ghost and I’m trying to join her. Her water glass is still sitting on the table next to her… the armchair. As if moving it would erase her completely.
“Hey, Bennett?” Cass, my first-ever employee, calls as I walk into the barn.
“Yeah?”
She walks out of the supply room carrying a blanket I’ve never seen before. “So I was thinking, it’s about to get super cold and Lloyd doesn’t have much going on in the way of natural warmth, so what do you think about using this”—she holds the blanket up—“for walks?”
I take it from her and realize it’s a dog coat. “I guess we can see if he’d be up for it.”
“I’m also thinking it will play well on social media.” She lights up. “Oh! I also forgot.” She bolts back into the storage room and comes out with two blue wheels. “Martin’s snow wheels came in.” Martin was one of the first dogs to arrive after I’d hired Cass and Teddy. He had been hit by a car, and when I got the call that it was either euthanasia or a home willing to put up the money and extensive care for him, I couldn’t say no. Teddy in particular has worked hard with Martin’s physiotherapy and training. The first day Martin had been strapped into his cart, he was off like a shot. The problem was the wheels weren’t ideal for the kind of terrain we often walked on. He’d get caught on a root or would hit a rock so hard a wheel would pop off. And while watching Teddy chase after a little wheel as it careened off the trail and into the bush was entertaining, it wasn’t ideal for anyone, most of all Martin. With these new wheels, we now have four different sets that can be switched out depending on the time of year and the condition of the ground. He’s going to be a rock star out there.
“We could probably do a post on the cart and wheels too,” I say, handing the coat back. I head off in search of Teddy.
He’s in the feed room with labeled bowls spread out on the counter in front of him. “Bennett.” He nods to me without even looking up.
“The new drops for Clarence arrived,” I say, holding up a tiny bottle of liquid that cost as much as a small car.
He takes them and immediately adds a couple of drops to his food. “I’m not sure they do anything,” he grumbles before sticking them in the fridge next to various other medications.
“I don’t think they make things better, but right now status quo is the best case.” Teddy just nods as he continues personalizing the dinners that need it.
“Did Cass show you the dog coat she brought for Lloyd?”
“She did.” I laugh. “He’s going to look ridiculous.”
“He already looks ridiculous out there with the dogs, so go hard or go home, I say. Plus…” He gives me a look. “Social media,” we say at the same time. “Did she show you Martin’s new wheels?” I nod. “Those will play well on the ’gram too. We can do a whole series on caring for a paralyzed dog and finding the right equipment.”
We laugh about Cass’s obsession with getting things just right for the Instagram and TikTok accounts she created, but I can't deny they serve a purpose. Marley was right—people do in fact love videos of dogs and, as it turns out, cows. Cass shows me every single thing before posting, even though I’ve stated multiple times that I trust her. I think she just wants to witness my reaction in real time, and nine times out of ten I end up laughing. She’s creative, and how much she cares about this place already shows in her work. Teddy acts like he doesn’t care that much, but I’ve caught him watching the videos more than once, and he’s contributed a few pictures to the feed. And he will no doubt be the one leading the Martin series.
After checking in with the dogs, I head back to the house to do some homework Cass has assigned me. I mentioned last week that I’d like to be able to educate people on various aspects of our rescue operation. Teddy had already shared some information with her about how things work internationally, and now I’m feeling like the student who hasn't gotten his work in on time.
By the time Teddy and Cass have gone home, I haven’t managed to complete my task, but I have managed to think about Marley. I’ve spent the last month checking my phone every day, feeling phantom buzzing only to discover no new messages from unknown numbers. I find myself frustrated that she seems comfortable about cluing in Sophie on her whereabouts but not me. Then I feel bad because she doesn’t owe me updates simply because I wish she would let me know how she is. I’d rather she be focused on staying safe than on me. And yet I know tomorrow I’ll feel the buzz that’s not there and check to see that there are no new messages, and just like tonight, I’ll go to sleep hoping the next day will be different.