Chapter 7
CHAPTER
SEVEN
Logan
Dozer nudges me with his head.
Luna didn’t tell me that this little guy liked to run.
She also didn’t tell me he’s a chewer, and loves my boots.
He’s already gnawed on all of my dining chairs and ruined a pair of tennis shoes.
They weren’t my finest pair, but still. The little gremlin is supposed to be a lap dog.
He’s nothing like that. Oh, and if you stop playing with him, he lets you know with an almighty yap.
I have noticed, in the twenty-four hours since I picked him up, that he has these little bursts of energy, then flops down into a heap to sleep it off.
He’s fucking cute, too.
Nobody warned me how stinking cute he would be in real life, and missing a leg has not taken away from that, nor has it slowed him down.
Last night, he snuggled up next to me on the bed.
I’m still struggling to work out how he made it onto the bed because of his short little legs, and well, the missing one.
I guess we’ll never know. But when I rolled over and our faces were pressed together, it scared the life out of me.
There he was, snoring his little head off while resting it on the spare pillow.
I didn’t have the heart to put him back on his bed.
I’m not a total monster; I laid his bed down on the floor near the edge of the bed, but it seems Dozer really does like human company.
I don’t know how dogs can be so forgiving. They’re not like people at all.
Luna told me he’d been at another foster home but they had to move.
Because they had two other special needs dogs, it took a lot out of her to manage multiple fosters, so something had to give.
The lady has done a lot of work with him, so I’m told, and it shows.
He never showed any signs of fearfulness, even though Luna explained that he didn’t like some of the men who came into the shop.
I’d put bets on it that his abuser was a male, but he’s only been sweet and trusting to me.
I guess I just have a way with animals. Always have.
“This isn’t permanent,” I tell Luna. “Just until he finds a new suitable home.”
“Okay.” Luna nods, but she’s smiling weirdly.
“What?”
“Huh?”
“Why are you smilin’ like that?”
She shakes her head. “I have no idea what you mean. Now, if you have any issues at all, just call me, alright? He can be a handful.”
Something else she didn’t tell me on the initial phone call.
“A handful, how?”
She straightens her spine, as if going into bat was her plan all along. “Well, he can be a little hyperactive, but trust me, when he crashes, he crashes hard.”
“Got it.”
“He is a bit fussy with his food, so I’ve given you a couple of days worth of what he likes?—”
“Can homeless dogs afford to be so fussy?” I wonder.
“And he favors chicken, and these grain-free biscuits. Frenchies are known to have food allergies, so limiting his options will be helpful should he have an upset stomach.”
“Sounds joyous.”
“Oh, he adores blueberries, and kale and sweet potatoes.”
I stare at her. “You fed him kale?”
“And sweet potatoes.”
“Should I be writing all this down?”
She smiles sweetly. “No need. I’m emailing his information for you so you have it on hand.”
“Okay, and when will we know about a new foster?”
It’s almost as if she’s pretending to think, shifting her eyes off to the side as she pouts.
“Well, it’s one of those things, isn’t it?
Finding someone to help with a special needs dog, and his sensitivities, is always a challenge.
Plus, Betty said she may take him back once she’s settled at the new house. ”
I give her a deadpan look. “He seems fine to me. You wouldn’t even know there was a leg missing.” I glance down just as Dozer zooms past me, a little Pekingese on his heels. “Wait, isn’t that Julius?”
Julius Caesar; Ella’s dog—Hawk and Jas’s kid. I only know because he tried to hump my leg once at a barbecue. Hawk is the club’s Road Captain—he organizes all the club’s motorcycle runs and what route we’re gonna take.
One thing I’ve always loved is getting out on the open road on my Harley.
“Oh, yeah, you’re good with faces I see?”
I roll my eyes. “What about toilet training?”
“He’s fully house trained, but because he’s lived in an apartment before, he’s used to a pee mat.”
Phew, that helps because I have no lawn and no back yard for him.
“Okay, well, I hope he likes living upstairs from a bar. Let me know if Betty changes her mind.”
“Will do, thanks Logan. I really owe you one on this. If I bring any more animals home, Tag is gonna throw a fit.”
I chuckle. “Yeah, I can see that about him.”
“Do you think?”
Tag isn’t exactly known for his moderate temperament.
“Call me anytime, okay?”
“Alright.” He whizzes past, Julius on his heels. “Now we just gotta catch him…”
Last night I got a ton of toys and dog chews courtesy of Payden. That was thoughtful of her.
She also got him a penguin stuffy which he brought to bed with him last night. It’s almost as big as him but he doesn’t seem to realize he’s really small.
I glance down when the little guy nudges me with his nose. “Gotta go out for a bit,” I tell him.
He nudges me again. “You wanna come?” He does a circle. It’s remarkable how he’s learned how to balance.
He’s been leash walking before, but Luna said Betty wasn’t consistent with it, so this should be fun.
I just don’t want him to get whiny or sad when I have to leave him.
Suddenly, I wonder what he’d be like on the front, or back, of my motorcycle.
I chuckle because West built a dog carrier for Tilbury, and she goes everywhere with him since Audrina can’t exactly ride on the back with the baby.
I’m getting ahead of myself. He isn’t my dog. I’m fostering. Waiting until he finds a new home, and hopefully someone to adopt him fully. I’m helping out a friend, that’s all this is.
I hold up his leash and he spins again.
I smile despite myself. He’s a clever little boy.
I clip his little collar in place and attach the lead.
I pick him up as I descend down the stairs.
The bar isn’t open until five, so there’s nobody in sight, plus, I have to start moving shit later when my staff arrive.
The sooner I accept the fact the bar is gonna be changing—for the better—the easier it’ll be on my soul.
I’ve put my blood, sweat, and tears into this place, and I have good memories.
Change is always hard. I’m an old dog in many ways, and I don’t like change, but this is what the bar needs.
It needs repair. A fresh lick of paint. New equipment. New flooring.
Plus, with the club’s funds, I’ll be able to do all the things I wanted, and keep the bar as mine.
The restaurant next door will be a different story and I’ll be sharing profits, but it’ll be more income and hopefully I’ll have to work a lot less.
Overheads aren’t cheap though, and neither are staff, but I’m gonna make it work.
I know how things operate, and my dingy old bar is gonna end up long forgotten if the updates aren’t done.
I want to keep the integrity of the place, that’s what worries me more than anything.
I go out the back door, pulling it closed behind me. I glance down as Dozer looks up at me.
“It’s okay, bud,” I say. “We’re gonna go get some breakfast.”
I start to walk and he follows dutifully.
Once we get to the street he carries on, and it’s like I’ve been walking him forever.
I don’t know what Betty’s issues were, but I’ll make a note to ask Luna.
Maybe it was the other dogs who needed more than he did, because he’s happily hopping along.
I get a few “awws” and “Oh, isn’t he adorable!
” from passersby, and I quickly start to understand this is the equivalent of a man carrying a baby: a chick magnet.
I pick him up when we get to the crosswalk. He doesn’t like honking, and I don’t want him to get scared. When we get to my favorite coffee shop, more “oohs” and “ahhs” continue as Darla and Meg, the two owners, coo over him and make him a goddamn pup cup.
“You know, you should make an Instagram or Facebook account for him,” Meg says with a laugh. “I know someone who’s making more than her day job.”
“What do they make money on?” I ask, completely confused. I don’t have any social media, and if I didn’t need a phone for work, I wouldn’t even have that. I’d be happy to go back to 1988 any day of the week long before technology took over in the mid nineties.
“Dog influencers,” she says. “That’s their job. They make videos of their daily doings and Meta pays them.”
I scratch my head. “People get paid for that shit? And I’m here workin’ my ass off everyday?”
She scruffs his chin and makes baby sounds. “I know, it’s a tough gig.”
No way am I getting social media. If Luna hears about it, she’ll be all over that. Anything to get the animals adopted.
I pull out my phone to quickly text Luna.
Me
Can Dozer have whipped cream?
A message bounces back a few seconds later.
Luna
Uh, oh, what are you two up to?
Me
Pup cup at Darla and Meg’s
Luna
I guess you’ll know once he’s had one…
I roll my eyes.
Me
Helpful
Luna
A few seconds later, I glance up as I hear a familiar voice. “A double shot, caramel latte with extra foam,” Payden says. “Oh, and a bagel with cream cheese to go.”
“Coming right up,” Darla says cheerfully.
She turns and our eyes meet. Her eyes grow wide as she blinks for a few seconds, then says, “Oh, hey Logan.” Then her eyes bounce down to Dozer. “Oh my god, stop it!”
Her demeanor changes from hesitant to adoring real fast.
Dozer looks up at her from the bench seat next to me and waggles his little tail and head at the same time.
“Payden, meet Dozer,” I say as she crouches down to scruff his head and tell him how adorable he is. I clear my throat. “He, uh, we thank you for the box of toys. I need to reimburse you for all of that. Those chew toys aren’t cheap.”
“Don’t be silly. I wanted to help.”
“He fell asleep with his paws on his new penguin,” I feel the need to add.
She coos some more as Dozer continues to wag his little tail. “He’s just so sweet!”
“I’m not keeping him,” I gruff.
“I know, but there’s no reason he can’t get never-ending head rubs, is there?”
I don’t answer. When the show of affection is over, she stands, her cheeks slightly flushed as she smiles down at him. Maybe Payden should have taken him instead of me.
“I-I didn’t know this was your local coffee shop, too?” she goes on.
Her office is right around the block, but I’ve been getting breakfast and coffee here for years.
“Gotta try the bacon, egg and sausage plate with grits. Plus the coffee is second to none.”
I’m so bad at everyday conversation.
“I think I’ll take your word for it about breakfast,” she says. “But I know all about the coffee.”
I should ask her if she’d like to join us, but the words don’t come out. Do I want her to join us?
I mean, I know I like her. I like her a lot, but then if she stays for coffee isn’t that like a date?
Strangely, the panic doesn’t hit me. Not that I’m a fucking lunatic, but I like routine.
And Payden is most definitely not part of my routine.
Complications are not my thing, but the more I get to know this woman, the more I dig what I find.
And for me that is a problem. It’s a problem because I don’t want to get involved, yet when I think about some other guy with Payden, I get a tight feeling in my chest. One that I can’t shake.
And that right there? Oh yeah, that is most definitely a problem.