CHAPTER FIVE
Not another one, Jakob thought, as he gazed into Bertie’s kennel the following morning.
The dog was in a ball – or as much of a ball as a solid and slightly pudgy Frenchie could curl himself into. His eyes moved when Jakob opened the gate, but not much else.
No dogs belonged in an animal sanctuary, but some coped better in kennels than others. Unfortunately, Bertie wasn’t one of them. He’d clearly led a pampered life and had been very much loved, and Jakob would bet his last penny that the little chap had never been in a boarding kennel situation in his life, not even for his owner to go on holiday.
Bertie was shutting down, withdrawing into himself, and Jakob’s heart went out to him. He wished he could take him home, but he already had one closed-off dog and she needed as much love and attention as he could give her. Two would be pushing it, especially since he knew that Bertie had been an only dog. Being placed into a home with three others mightn’t be good for him.
Jakob would give him a couple of days to see if he settled, and if he didn’t he’d ask Dawn if one of the registered foster homes could take him until his owner’s relatives could be located.
He wondered how the search was coming along. The hospital would hold on to the deceased for the time being whilst enquiries were made, but Jakob wasn’t sure whether it would be the police doing the enquiring or the council. And in the meantime, poor little Bertie was in limbo.
‘Come on, fella, let’s have a look at you,’ Jakob said, kneeling next to the dog’s bed.
Bertie didn’t stir, so Jakob gently picked him up and stood him on his feet.
Whilst Jakob wasn’t medically trained, he was qualified to check an animal’s condition to determine whether a trip to the vet was necessary. In this instance, it wasn’t. Apart from being on the portly side, which was a tendency of the breed, Bertie appeared to be in good health: clean ears, clear eyes, pink gums, and a shiny coat.
‘How about a walk? Walkies?’
No response, apart from a gradual sinking of his haunches as Bertie slowly sat down.
Jakob ruffled his ears, talking to him softly, trying to reassure him. It was a pity Gretta Laverne hadn’t felt able to look after him for a few more days. From her expression and the hitch in her voice, she’d felt bad about abandoning him, and Bertie had obviously developed some kind of bond with her, even if it was merely the more familiar versus the totally unknown.
Jakob’s phone rang, startling him. It was Dawn.
‘Can I patch this call through to you?’ she asked. ‘It’s the woman who surrendered the French bulldog yesterday.’
‘Put her through.’ He’d filled Dawn in on the new arrival shortly after Gretta had dropped Bertie off and although it was unorthodox, Dawn had agreed with his decision to accept the dog.
‘Hi, I’m Gretta Laverne? I brought a dog in yesterday?’ Her voice was hesitant and uncertain, the sentences ending on an upward lilt as though she was asking whether he remembered her.
Little did she know that he rarely forgot a dog, although it was unusual for him to remember a person. He remembered her , though…
He hoped she had good news for him and that someone had turned up to take the little dog home – wherever that might be.
‘Hi,’ he replied.
‘It’s Jakob, right?’
‘Yeah.’
‘I’m calling because…I just wanted to…’ She stumbled over her words then blurted, ‘Is he okay?’
‘Not really.’ Jakob could tell from her sharp intake of breath that she’d not been expecting that. She’d probably been hoping that he’d say Bertie was fine – but why should he salve her conscience when the poor dog was far from fine? Bertie was miserable and Jakob had no intention of lying to the woman to make her feel better.
‘Oh, I…what’s wrong with him?’
‘His owner died and he’s been dumped in a strange place with people he doesn’t know, so you tell me?’ As the words left his lips, Jakob blanched. Dawn wouldn’t be happy with him. She kept trying to instil in him that he shouldn’t be judgemental with people for giving up their dogs, but he couldn’t help himself. Animals were a commitment and—
Jakob stopped himself right there. Bertie hadn’t belonged to Gretta. He wasn’t her dog and never had been. ‘Sorry,’ he said into the shocked silence. ‘I can be blunt sometimes.’
‘You don’t say.’
He deserved her sarcasm. He’d let his feelings blind him to the fact that this woman didn’t have any responsibility towards Bertie. If she couldn’t cope with him, she’d done the right thing by bringing him here. And he reminded himself that not everyone loved dogs as much as he did.
‘I’m sorry,’ he repeated.
‘Is he howling a lot?’
‘Not at all.’
‘Barking?’
‘No.’
‘What then? Is he off his food?’
‘He’s beginning to shut down. That’s when an animal becomes withdrawn and unresponsive. He’s giving up.’
‘He can’t!’
‘He can and he is. It happens sometimes, unfortunately.’ His thoughts turned to Trixie: it happened far too often.
‘Can anything be done?’ Gretta sounded upset, her voice thick with emotion.
‘Dawn, the woman you just spoke to at the Thornbury centre, will try to find him a foster home if he doesn’t improve over the next few days.’
‘What if she can’t find one?’
Jakob said, ‘Let’s hope she can. Or that someone comes to claim him.’
‘What if—?’ She stopped. ‘I’m going to have to come and get him, aren’t I?’
‘I’m not sure that would be fair to him. He needs stability. You can’t be bringing him back again after a day or so.’
‘I won’t.’ She sounded determined, as though she was trying to convince herself.
‘But you might.’ His tone was gentle.
‘He kept crying and chasing my cat. Zaza hates him.’
‘Dogs and cats can learn to get on, and he was probably whining because he’s pining for his owner.’
‘He wasn’t whining. Well, he was , but I could cope with that because it wasn’t all the time. The problem was that whenever I was out of sight, he howled and barked.’
‘Sounds like separation anxiety. Was he left on his own much, do you know?’
‘I’m not sure, but I don’t think so. Mr Butler used to take him everywhere.’
‘There’s your answer. He’s howling because he wants to be with you.’
‘But he can’t be with me all the time.’
‘I understand.’ Jakob did, he really did. Velcro dogs (so called because they stuck to their owners the way two pieces of Velcro stuck together) could be challenging, especially for their neighbours, because no one wanted to listen to a noisy dog for hours on end. He added, ‘Work, family, kids…I expect you’re out of the house a lot.’
‘Actually, I’m not. I don’t have kids, and I work from home.’
Jakob’s ears pricked up. Working from home made having a clingy dog that much easier.
She said, ‘But it’s the cat, too. They can’t be in the same room together.’ She sounded upset again.
Jakob had an idea. ‘What if I help you introduce your cat to Bertie properly?’
‘I don’t know. I’m not sure it’ll work.’
It had been a long-shot suggestion, he acknowledged silently.
‘Do you think it will?’ she added.
‘It might.’
‘What if he still doesn’t settle, even if Zara does tolerate him?’
‘I’ll bring him back to The Forever Home. But before I do that, there are a few tricks we could try which might help.’
‘I don’t know…’ she repeated, but Jakob was on a roll.
‘As you said, it might only be for a day or so and just think how much happier he’ll be. The poor little scrap has been through such a lot.’
‘Is this emotional blackmail?’ Her voice was sharp.
‘No, it’s the truth.’
He heard her sigh. ‘I’ve still got his bowls and his food, and other stuff… I should have brought them with me when I dropped him off, but I didn’t think of it.’
Jakob realised he’d lost her. ‘Would you like me to pick them up on my way home? I’m sure Bertie would appreciate having familiar things in his kennel.’
‘I’m wondering if there was a reason I didn’t bring them,’ she said.
‘Because you thought they might get mixed up with the kennels things and you wanted to give them to his owner’s relatives?’ he guessed.
‘Hmm.’ She paused, then said. ‘I know I’m going to regret this, but I’m willing to look after him until Mr Butler’s next of kin is found. It can’t be long, surely? I hate to think of him pining away in a cage.’
It’s a nice cage, Jakob wanted to say, but held his tongue.
That was a turn up for the books, he thought after Gretta had given him her address. Although, after seeing her face yesterday when she’d handed the little dog over to him, he hadn’t been totally surprised at her change of heart.
Underneath that aloof and exasperated exterior, he suspected Gretta Laverne might be a real softy.
Gretta was kicking herself. She shouldn’t have phoned to see how he was. She should have trusted that the people at The Forever Home Kennels knew what they were doing. Bertie wasn’t the first dog they’d have encountered whose owner had passed away.
She should never have let her misplaced guilt get the better of her.
But she knew what it was like to be scared. She knew what it was like to withdraw, to feel like giving up. The difference was that she had been able to extricate herself from her situation. Bertie was powerless to extricate himself from his. He’d have to rely on someone to do that for him. And that someone would have to be her until Mr Butler’s relatives were found. She was all Bertie had.
However, Zaza was still Gretta’s priority, and if the cat and the dog couldn’t resolve their differences, then Bertie really would have to go. And if she had another horrendous night with him, he’d have to go then, too.
Gretta wasn’t sure what time Jakob would turn up with Bertie, so she hastily had a quick tidy up (not that it needed doing, but old habits and all that…). The curtain pole was unlikely to be the same again, and one of the ornaments on the bookcase wouldn’t recover and had been consigned to the bin, but the sitting room looked presentable enough.
After that, she went to her office and lost herself in work for a few hours.
It was close to four p. m. before she heard the doorbell ring, and she hastened to answer it.
For some reason her stomach did a flippety-flop when she saw Jakob. There was something about him that unsettled her, though not in a nasty way. He had an open, honest face and kind eyes. Actually, they were rather sexy eyes, light blue, ringed with dark lashes and with a crinkling of crow’s feet at the corners. He had a pleasant smile too, and she couldn’t help smiling back.
Gesturing for him to enter, she stepped aside, and as he brushed past her in the narrow hallway she caught a whiff of citrus and sandalwood. Being this near to him brought it home to her just how big and powerful he was, yet he was carrying Bertie with care, his large hands gentle as he caressed the dog.
Seeing them sent a shiver down her spine as she had a brief image of those hands on her body – would he be as gentle with her?
Alarmed at the direction her thoughts had taken, she kept her gaze on the dog as Jakob put him on the floor, and as soon as he was free, Bertie danced on his hind legs, his front paws scrabbling at her as he asked to be petted. He was uttering little whimpers.
‘I think someone is pleased to see you,’ Jakob said, and Gretta’s heart gave a squeeze.
‘I think he’s just glad to be somewhere he recognises,’ she replied. ‘He doesn’t really know me.’
She noticed that Jakob hadn’t relinquished the lead, and she was glad he wasn’t taking any chances with her cat.
‘He doesn’t?’ he clarified.
She shook her head. ‘I’ve seen him in the garden and out with Mr Butler, but until the day before yesterday, we’d never met.’
‘Where’s your cat?’
‘She’s upstairs.’
‘Do you want to go fetch her?’
No, she didn’t. Zaza would not take kindly to this. Reluctantly, Gretta climbed the stairs. ‘Zaza, come see,’ she called.
Zaza, true to her nature, waited for Gretta to come to her.
She was sprawled on Gretta’s bed, and when she saw her, she stretched luxuriously, rolling onto her back to show off her fluffy tummy. Gretta wasn’t fooled, and resisted the invitation to tickle it because the invitation held sheathed danger. Gretta knew from experience that if she dared tickle her, Zaza’s claws would come out and she wasn’t scared of using them.
As though sensing something was up, the cat rolled over onto her stomach, her expression inscrutable, but the tip of her tail twitched with low-grade irritation.
Gretta picked her up and steeled herself to carry her downstairs. She had a feeling this wasn’t going to be pretty…
It wasn’t – but not in the way she’d expected.
Instead of Bertie going ballistic on the end of his lead as he tried to chase Zaza, the dog’s ears went down and he crouched on the floor. And Zaza, instead of leaping out of Gretta’s arms and doing a mad dash upstairs, lay there, growling. The dog refused to look at the cat, apart from the occasional swift, worried glance.
‘How did you do that?’ Gretta breathed.
‘I didn’t do anything. Zaza can see that he’s restrained, so she doesn’t need to run away, and because she’s not running, Bertie’s chase instinct isn’t activated. Put her down.’
Cautiously, Gretta did as Jakob asked, still worried, even though she knew Bertie couldn’t get at her cat.
Zaza sat immobile. Her fur was fluffed up more than usual and she hadn’t taken her eyes off the intruder, but she seemed calm enough.
Without making a song and dance about it, Jakob let the lead fall to the floor.
Gretta bit her lip.
‘Don’t worry,’ he said quietly, ‘I’ll put my foot on it if he misbehaves.’
Bertie stayed put, and for several minutes there was a stand-off, the two animals staring at each other. Then Bertie’s impatience got the better of him and he crept forward.
Zaza glowered, and Bertie stopped, looking up at Gretta uncertainly.
‘Tell him no,’ Jakob instructed.
‘No…’
‘Sound as though you mean it.’
‘No!’
‘Perfect.’
Bertie whined.
‘Ignore him. He needs to decide for himself what the best course of action is.’
The dog wriggled forward another few centimetres and Zaza’s mouth opened in a silent warning and she flashed her canine teeth.
‘No,’ Gretta told him firmly again, and as Bertie subsided she asked, ‘How long do we keep this up?’
‘For as long as it takes.’
‘It could take hours.’
‘It won’t.’ Jakob sounded confident.
His confidence was spot on she saw, when Bertie, unable to stand the tension, got to his feet.
Zaza’s silent hiss became a very vocal one as she spat at him and Bertie took a step back. Zaza hissed again, followed by a throaty growl.
Bertie, his courage deserting him, backed away until he’d put Jakob’s legs between him and the cat. Then Zaza calmly got to her feet and with one final snooty look, stalked off with her tail held high.
Bertie looked defeated.
Jakob said, ‘I think that’s settled. They’ve sorted out who’s boss and it isn’t Bertie.’
‘You knew that was going to happen, didn’t you?’
‘I suspected it might.’
‘Thank you.’
‘You’re welcome. I’m sure he’ll be fine now, but if you’re worried, call me,’ he said, and gave her his phone number.
Gretta was amazed and incredibly thankful. She wasn’t totally sure she believed what she’d just seen, or that it would last, but that it had happened at all gave her hope she’d made the right decision in having Bertie back.
Unfortunately, she would soon wish she hadn’t!