Chapter One #3
Kayla spotted the brightly painted van and heard the excited yipping of her babies. She fought the instinct to ditch the doctor and sprint over to her pups. She was, after all, the face of the business, and they relied on donations to operate. Couldn’t piss off a doctor and expect to pay her bills.
“If I tell you now, they’ll hear me. Wouldn’t want to break their hearts,” Kayla said.
Amy seemed to accept that answer, and Kayla made her escape, hurrying across the loading dock to where her sole employee, Tara, was unlocking the back door of the van.
Tara was older than Kayla by a couple decades but moved with the flexibility of someone who had lived an active life and the gravity of a typical middle-aged butch lesbian.
She had worked at a variety of animal shelters and veterinarian offices before Kayla snapped her up with the promise of short hours and limited human interaction.
It was still unclear who came out with the better deal.
Tara didn’t like many people, and the feeling was generally mutual, but she worshipped anything on four legs.
The dogs took to her better than anyone Kayla had ever met.
She barely even had to train them. A new dog would come in, green, jumpy, and barely housebroken, but within a week, Tara would have them ready for a site visit. She was a godsend.
“Hey, boss. Who’s the ponytail? Not your usual type,” Tara said.
Kayla checked to make sure Amy was still out of earshot before she mumbled, “She’s nice for a bone saw. Try not to make her cry.”
“I don’t make them cry.”
Kayla raised an eyebrow. “St. Luke’s?”
“She kicked Lucy.”
Lucy, the nearly spherical chocolate lab who had never met a stranger she didn’t want to lick or seen a floral arrangement she didn’t want to eat, looked up from her crate, wagging her tail at Tara.
“She didn’t kick Lucy. She saved her life by keeping her from swallowing a peace lily, planter and all.”
“She was too aggressive and spooked Lucy for a week,” Tara said.
“And how about at the Children’s Hospital?”
Tara opened her mouth to argue but settled for a crooked grin. “That doctor was a guy. You know I love watching men cry.”
Kayla tried not to laugh, but it was impossible to be stern with Tara or unhappy in any way when her herd of dogs was around.
They worked together in practiced movements to collect each dog from their crate, clip on their official therapy dog vests, and attach a lead to each one.
Kayla only took one dog at a time since she usually went to the kids’ ward, but Tara could handle two for the adults.
Apart from Lucy, the sweet, overweight chocolate lab, they had a geriatric Golden Retriever named Finn and a short doofus of a Corgi named Mr. Pebbles.
Kayla had inherited Lucy from a friend who trained service dogs.
Her unfortunate habit of ignoring all other concerns when something edible—or inedible, Lucy wasn’t picky—was near at hand made her a bad fit for being a service dog.
Her loveable sweetness, however, made her a perfect fit for a therapy dog.
Mr. Pebbles was Kayla’s newest and gentlest pup.
At only five years old, he was energetic enough to play with the kids, but his mellow demeanor kept him from being too rambunctious for the sick ones.
Finn, though. Finn was Kayla’s special man.
She’d known him for so long, he was almost family.
He was a member of the team of dogs that came to the hospital where she recovered after her surgery.
Some days, she was so mentally broken that all she could do was lie in bed and cry.
On those days, Finn—the youngest member of the team and still occasionally showing signs of the puppyhood—would jump up onto the bed beside her and force his head underneath her hand.
She had ignored him at first, preferring to live in the prison of her broken dreams, but he didn’t give up on her.
After his third visit, she’d stroked his big dumb head a couple times.
After his seventh, they shared her turkey sandwich lunch.
Finn had quite literally saved her life, so when the therapy dog team he’d been with his whole life had disbanded, she had begged to take him.
The woman who ran that company had remembered her and had been thrilled to hear her plans to open her own business.
She had wept something fierce when she surrendered Finn to Kayla, and he had spent a long time comforting them both.
These days, he thrived with the elderly humans who understood his aching joints and gray muzzle.
Then he came home with Kayla every night to be pampered as no one else could.
Kayla clipped the final lead in place and stood gingerly, careful not to overextend her knee. “Okay, Mr. P. Ready to go make some kids laugh?”
Mr. Pebbles bounced off his stumpy front paws and let out a single, happy bark. His fellow therapists barked their consent in turn, and Kayla followed Amy upstairs to brighten the day of a few dozen patients.