Chapter 14
10 September 2023
From: Jacq Cooper [email protected]
To: Brynn Wallace [email protected]
Subject: Hey
Dear Brynn,
I figured I’d write an email to you since you seem to have blocked me on your socials and you don’t answer any of my messages. I’d write you a letter but you moved to New York and haven’t given me your address.
I’m super disappointed that you’ve thrown away twenty years of friendship over one little mistake. Especially when the mistake was well-intentioned. I loved the time you, me, Tim and Scott spent together. It made me feel so happy when you started dating Scott, like we’d be a little foursome for life. Remember how we used to imagine having kids at the same time? Me asking Scott to the party was just trying to hold onto all those dreams we’d had when you two first got together.
Anyways, I think you owe it to our friendship to talk to me. Don’t cut me off, I’m begging you.
Jacq
The big dog room is in chaos. Dogs just keep arriving and Cruz is sullen and hardly speaks as we shuffle them around the room to keep the peace.
‘Is it just me or is there something in the air today?’ I ask after we finish the lunch walks and take up watch.
‘Full moon,’ he grumbles, and I raise an eyebrow.
Though we had an odd meeting on my first day, Cruz has grown on me. Usually he’s a bit of a flirt and we have fun when we’re on shift together, but today something’s made him grumpy.
‘No, seriously,’ he continues. ‘They’re always extra-silly on a full moon. And Doug’s been advertising, so we’ve got a bunch of new dogs.’ It’s the most he’s said all day, but I don’t get a chance to answer because the gate to the anteroom opens and one of the new front-desk girls yells out, ‘Spike!’
Instead of waiting for us to reshuffle to get ready for him, the door stays open and Spike barrels into the room, going straight for Perdita. Like some sort of superhero, Cruz leaps over the fence and gets to the first enclosure quickly, while I run through the gate, making sure the other dogs don’t get caught up in the excitement.
Spike reaches Perdita, teeth bared. Perdita skitters backwards and runs into one of the big Bernese mountain dogs, who jumps to attention. My heart pounds—this is going to be a free-for-all. But the mountain dog seems to go to Perdita’s aid, putting his big body between her and Spike. Spike makes a jump for it, the mountain dog nips at Spike, tearing his ear. Spike yelps, and goes back, and this time Perdita gets in too.
By the time we separate them, there’s blood everywhere. Cruz has a gash down his arm, my jeans are torn and I’ve skinned my knee raw on the rough floor as I’ve been dragged along trying to hold onto the mountain dog’s collar. Perdita’s coat is sporting some red in addition to the black dalmatian spots. I check her over for wounds, but the blood is from Spike and Cruz.
Spike is pretty seriously hurt. He’s got a wound on his leg, and half his ear is missing. He lies on his side in the dog room breathing heavily, snarling when Cruz gets close to him to check him out.
‘Get your ass outside and call the vet!’ Cruz shouts at the new front-desk girl, who’s been standing the doorway looking stricken as the scene unfolded.
As she disappears from the room, I work on getting the other dogs moved away, crating any who are wound up.
‘How’s Perdita?’ Cruz asks.
‘Shaky, but only a scratch.’ I look at his arm. ‘What about you?’
‘It’s deep, but it’s okay.’ He gestures at my knee. ‘You?’
‘Just a graze.’
‘What a fucking shit-show. We’re gonna get skinned for this, you know.’
I nod, my heart racing and tears welling in my eyes. Spike is a pain, but he doesn’t deserve to be hurt. He might have caused the fight, but it wasn’t his fault. It was Doug’s for saying that we could handle every dog and then throwing all of us in together to work it out.
The front-desk girl comes back in looking spooked as she tells me I need to take Perdita and the mountain dog to the vet, and that the emergency vet is on his way to see to Spike.
Both dogs are bristling with excitement when I get them on their leashes and out onto the street. It makes me nervous, given they’ve practically torn the shit out of our worst dog. If they decide to go on a rampage now, there’s no way I can control them.
Thankfully, the dogs calm down as we walk to the vet, and Sienna is waiting for me when we arrive. ‘You okay?’ she asks, her eyes wide with concern.
‘It was scary, but I’m just worried about the dogs.’ Still feeling shaky, I have an almost overwhelming urge to throw myself into her arms, but we’re both working.
‘They’ll be okay,’ she says, taking both the leashes and giving me a hug. It takes me by surprise, but as soon as I register how comforting it is, she breaks the contact and leads the dogs back to the consult room while, dazed, I take a seat.
There are two ladies in the waiting room: one with a crate that is full of the fluffiest cat I have ever seen, and the other with a highly coiffed toy poodle on a diamante-studded leash.
When I sit down, the poodle stops staring at the cat and instead comes over and starts running its nose over my jeans. Every so often it snorts loudly because it’s sniffing so hard. I’d normally coo and fuss over the dog, even though poodles aren’t my thing, but I’m too worried about Spike and what’s going on back at daycare. The other vet could be working on Spike now.
The poodle’s owner, an older lady who looks like she’s dressed for lunch at the Plaza instead of a visit to the vet, eyes me suspiciously.
‘I work at Dogue’s,’ I explain. ‘He can probably smell the other dogs.’
‘I don’t like those daycare places,’ she says, turning her nose up.
‘You and me both,’ I say under my breath.
She asks me a few questions about where I’m from and why I’ve ended up working at the daycare, and I ask her about her poodle, whose name is Daisy. Something about the small talk must please her because a few minutes later she turns to me and says, ‘I need a sitter for Daisy over the weekend. Is that something you might do? I pay quite well, and I can assure you that you’d be very comfortable in my guest rooms.’
Ordinarily, I wouldn’t think twice about saying no. I’m not the sort of girl who accepts jobs off random people—especially not overnights. But I think of the extra money and, kind of distracted, scribble my name and number on the back of a pamphlet.
The vet calls for Daisy (a boy, I establish, as he trots into the room), and a moment later, Sienna brings Perdita and the mountain dog out.
‘The vet says they’re both fine,’ she says. ‘Not a mark on either of them. We’ve washed the blood off Perdita so she doesn’t look so ...’
‘Horrific?’ I finish, and she chuckles. ‘Thanks, Sienna. The blood stains probably won’t be a good look for her social media career.’
‘Oh and I spoke to both owners and they’re fine, although Perdi’s mom did want to make sure none of you were filming her.’ She gives the tiniest roll of her eyes. ‘But mostly they’re worried about Spike. Who is okay, by the way. Apparently he just needed some stitches.’
I nod. ‘Thanks,’ I say. ‘Did his mum arrive too?’
‘Yeah, and she’s all right. She knows Spike is a tough case, I think she’ll probably pull him out of Dogue’s.’
I shrug. ‘For the best.’
‘And don’t you worry, I’m sure Doug will understand. From what the vet’s told me, there wasn’t anything more you could have done.’
‘I hope you’re right. I think I’m going to crack it if he yells.’
‘I’m sure everything will be fine,’ she says, reaching out and touching my arm lightly. ‘You’ve still got my number if you need anything, right?’
I nod, and butterflies dance in my stomach. I think they’re because I’m a bit shamed I’ve had her number all this time and haven’t contacted her, but also, I think, there’s something else there. I shake the feeling aside and say goodbye before heading back.
I walk Perdita and the mountain dog back quickly, not wanting to prolong any possible yelling.
Doug comes straight out of his office, as though he has been waiting for me to get back.
‘Brynn, how are they?’
‘Both fine. They just needed a little clean-up.’
‘Can you put them back in the playroom and bring Cruz out here?’ he asks.
I lead the dogs to the big dog room and give Cruz a little nod of my head. He’s got a thick white bandage wrapped around his arm and I wonder how bad the wound is. I rush to tell him what happened while I was at the vet, but we can’t linger.
We walk through the run alongside the little playroom, and it feels like we’re going out to death row. All the dogs stop and look at us, none of them wagging their tails like they usually do. But Robert, whose shift started sometime between the fight and the vet, gives me a thumbs-up, and I know that even if I get fired today, I still have his friendship.
Just as we’re approaching Doug’s office, Cruz grabs my hand. He gives a little squeeze and drops it before I can properly react. He knocks on the door and Doug immediately yells, ‘Come.’
I suck in a deep breath.
Doug is sitting with his back to us, facing his computer. I glance at Cruz, and he shrugs. It occurs to me now that Doug is a lot like a dog, subtly showing us that we’re in his territory. Except, dogs are cute and loveable.
Once we’ve closed the door, Doug turns around. ‘Why don’t you tell me what happened?’ he asks quietly.
I look at Cruz, but he seems to have lost his voice, so I tell the story. I emphasise how quickly Cruz acted, getting hurt in the process. I try not to drop the new front-desk girl in it too hard.
Doug’s brow furrows and I can practically see the cogs turning in his head. ‘Spike’s mom is not happy.’
Spike’s mum has been getting these phone calls practically on a daily basis, so of course she’s not happy.
‘There are allocated placements here for a reason,’ he continues, ‘to avoid incidents like this one. It is unacceptable that Spike, who we know is bred to fight, is left with other dogs.’
This is the first I’ve heard about Spike’s breeding. ‘Doug,’ I say. ‘We have to move Spike through the entire daycare every day. We’re doing our best.’
‘Please don’t tell me how to do my job.’
‘She’s not telling you how to do your job,’ Cruz says, finally finding his voice. ‘She’s telling you how bad our jobs are. We come in every day and deal with angry, bored dogs with nothing to do but snap at each other. We get bitten, scratched, peed and shat on, and you have the gall to sit here in your office, clean, happy, and a damn lot better paid, and you think we’re telling you how to do your job?’
I shoot a look at Cruz that I hope is reassuring. We’re about to lose our jobs and I’m glad I’m not alone.
‘Well, Cruz, that’s very enlightening. Thanks for your insight,’ Doug says, with a kind of creepy smile. ‘Brynn, you can go. I’ll see you tomorrow.’
‘Wait a second ...’ I say.
‘Brynn—out. I’ll see you in the morning.’
I walk out, glancing back at Cruz. He gives me a little nod before I close the door on him. I’m pretty sure he’s just saved me from losing my job. Which is ridiculously noble, because Cruz, like practically every other person here, works two jobs and takes on as many extra shifts as he can. He works hard because he has to so he can survive in this post-COVID cost of living crisis. I, on the other hand, am here because I want to be. I can go back to Australia if things get bad because I’ve got a home to return to and a whole mob who will support me.
I feel like shit.
On the way out I send a text message to Robert. ‘Pretty sure Cruz is fired . ’