Chapter 1
CHAPTER ONE
A voice startles me as I enter the noisy building for morning office duties. The familiar sound of dogs barking is the constant greeting, plus, I know they’re all about to be fed breakfast, which makes them a bit overzealous.
“Good morning, Sarah.” Juan has been a great overnight employee for the past two years, after graduating from Penn New Bolton College to become a veterinary technician. At the age of twenty-three, he hopes to one day return to school to become a veterinarian and I totally support it. He’d be an even greater asset to have as another doctor next door at the animal hospital.
“Morning. Any issues with Marta the Maltese overnight? How was her drain? Any more leakage at the incision site?”
“She’s all good. Her IV came out again, but I think it’s good now. She’s so moody, though. I thought she was going to attack me in her drunken state, leaving me without ankles, where you’d find me this morning on the ground bleeding out.”
“That’s a bit of an exaggeration. She nipped once when you gave her a shot; she’s no Cujo. Besides, she’s twelve pounds dripping wet, on sedatives and pain meds. I doubt she could get around or be stealthy enough to do it.” I roll my eyes and he smiles, his heavy brows lifting with the folding of his mouth. Juan is handsome, with tanned skin from his Mexican-American heritage. When possible adopters come in, he smiles and basically swoons them until they’re leaving with a new pet. At least, that’s what the rest of the employees and volunteers here say.
We had one overnight post-surgical for observation in the medical bay. She was hit by a car and found on the side of the road, barely clinging to life. After two surgeries, one to repair her entire hip and some internal bleeding, she’s expected to make a full recovery. She has to remain until she’s deemed healthy and able to physically meet our medical requirements for adoption, so I anticipate her stay to go over a month easily. I’ll start sharing her images once her hair grows back and I can snap some bubbly doggie smiles. As of right now, the only images I have are the way she was brought in, and that’s nothing anyone needs to see.
“You headed out?” My question is rhetorical. His shift is over.
“I promised Natalie I’d help feed the pack first. She’s back there prepping everything,” he explains. “I lost a bet last night, so I have to pay up and buy her a coffee and bagel in town. I swear she sets me up every time.”
Juan never wins bets against the women here. He’s either awful at gambling or loses on purpose to make them feel sorry for him. It’s quite funny to watch.
“Maybe next time you won’t take the bet.” I don’t ask what it was over. It’s usually something ridiculous, like a dog acting a certain way or ignoring a treat for a certain amount of time. None of the dogs wait to savor a treat. They devour it before it even hits the ground, almost always.
We say our goodbyes as I venture back to my office. As I sit I pull out my mirror to make sure the toothpaste isn’t stuck around my mouth like yesterday. The reflection staring back at me used to be much more put together. I feel tired, and haven’t been wearing makeup as much as I used to. Eyeliner and mascara are usually my daily go-to when it comes to primping. Unless I’m on a date, I stay natural, and still get a lot of complements. My hair is a golden brown, with blondish streaks that come and go as the seasons change. I still feel pretty. I’m healthy and my petite figure hasn’t changed for years, but I still worry about what my employees think about me. I guess it’s normal when you don’t have a man to impress.
The desk is covered in papers and months’ worth of applications that won’t be approved. As much as I’d like to send the dogs home with every applicant, the reality is most don’t have the space or yard for a dog. We do home inspections and sadly, eighty percent aren’t prepared for any kind of pet. Some have small children or babies, and the dogs can be reactive, especially at first. It’s hard saying no, especially when I’m certain the dog would be loved but also potentially returned just as fast. Rules are there for a reason. I’m not going to send a dog home to a family with kids and have the dog bite the child, only for that dog to be euthanized for aggression. Lots of dogs that come into the shelter are damaged. They’ve been neglected, abused, tormented by children, or left outside without sustenance. They don’t know how to act normal or be comfortable when love is offered. It’s something they have to relearn and it takes a while, and that’s why placement is important.
Sitting at my desk, I take in a long breath. The log for new arrivals continues to grow. For the life of me I can’t understand why so many people are okay surrendering innocent animals, most to no fault of their own. Lots of people, including families, thought it would be great to adopt or purchase pets during the months of quarantine for Covid-19. For a while shelters emptied out, every dog had a potential forever home, someone to love them and keep them from the prison-barred life an animal shelter offers. They received personal touch, some for the very first time in their lives. They formed lasting attachments, some imprinting on their humans like marriage would promise, ’til death do us part.
Unfortunately, so many of those promises were broken. It wasn’t from death, or even because their imprinted person cheated with another pooch. No, this was a more sinister betrayal. These people went back to work and lost the enthusiasm to make taking care of them a continued process. Most dogs were re-surrendered because the people no longer had time for them. They became an extra burden on their once again busy lives. The worst part is, these dogs started coming in droves, too many to house. Euthanasia numbers skyrocketed, to a point where whole litters of puppies would never get the chance to live.
Years after this desolate time in our lives, the shelters remain at capacity, many closing because donations are at an all-time low. The sad truth is that there will never be enough room for all the misplaced animals in this world to seek refuge. What really makes my blood boil is knowing people like me started this non-profit to help dogs in need. Some were found hit on roads, others injured in the wilderness, and more whose parents couldn’t afford expensive treatments. Instead of euthanizing, they decide to surrender so that the animal they love can perhaps get that medical attention and have a chance at many more years of life. Sadly, with that scenario the owners can’t re-adopt and many people looking don’t want a damaged dog with prior medical history, so they remain in the shelters, only knowing love and affection through metal bars or cages.
Speaking of the cages, we are literally out of space. There’s a pickup in the mountains this afternoon for a Great Pyrenees with a litter of puppies an older couple didn’t plan for. When I say it wasn’t planned, I think some reiteration is necessary. This couple is known for livestock dogs that roam the mountain and valley below. These dogs aren’t vaccinated, so most have skin issues and are covered in parasites from the inside out. This particular couple started with one dog and a stray came through and impregnated that female. It happens, but is easy to rectify with spay and neutering. The couple kept the whole litter, because most of the time these dogs live off the land, eating the prey they kill to protect their flock. The problem is, years later these pups have grown and started mating with not just their mom, but their siblings. It’s quite common, but needs to be stopped. Last year, all but two of the nineteen dogs were seized, and documents were signed that the female would be spayed to prevent any further litters. Sadly, the allotted time expired and once again she was pregnant by the male, which was a son.
By state law, they can either pay a hefty fine for backyard breeding and have their dog fixed, or they can surrender the mother and puppies to avoid the fees. It’s sad, but most people hand their dogs over quicker than the ink on the paperwork can dry.
This Great Pyrenees momma weighs over a hundred pounds. She’s as stubborn as an ox and attacked the last person who tried to get close to her puppies. She’s been guarding cows and sheep for five years and takes her job seriously. She doesn’t get along with other dogs or people because of her training to protect her animals. We see these cases so often, working dogs rotting away at shelters because no one wants to take the time and effort to rehab them to be pets.
The cold, hard truth hits me right in the gut. Warm tears fall down my cheeks and I quickly wipe them away before my staff can see. I have to be the strong one, even knowing the fate of this poor canine is not going to end well. Have I mentioned they’re my favorite breed? One of my favorites. I love big dogs, the bigger the better. Growing up, we had indoor Great Pyrenees dogs. The giant fluff balls love to cuddle. My parents have so many pictures of me buried beneath their fur, appearing like they had suffocated me. The only thing they were taking away was anxiety and fear. I never felt safer when my dogs were by my side. They seemed to be able to melt any nervousness or pain off my shoulders.
I guess I should add that my father is a veterinarian and my mother comes from a long line of ranchers here in Western North Carolina. We aren’t far from the mountains, but our land is pretty flat. The small town a few miles away has grown into a busy city, making my parents’ clinic thrive with business. When I was a teen, my father built a small shelter off of our facility, mostly to house overnight patients with twenty-four hour care for after surgeries, or some that need overnight observation. The building started with just four bays, but after one year, had six more added. I’m twenty-seven now and there’s thirty-six bays, temperature-controlled, twenty-four-hour manned with one vet-tech on shift at all times.
I run the whole shelter now, completely separate from my parents’ veterinary hospital, alongside my two dogs, a Pyr Mix named Luna and a former surrendered French Bulldog named Midge. There was a time when I thought I had the dream package, even the love of my life and a future with never-ending possibilities, but things didn’t go as planned. He’d gone into the military at eighteen, following in his father’s footsteps. After serving for four years, he went into government work. He got offered an opportunity of a lifetime, in California. After much contemplation and hopes that we’d stay together, we ended our relationship and finally lost touch. Last I heard, through gossip, of course, he’d gotten engaged and they’d purchased land to build on. My parents didn’t tell me about the wedding, but I know they went. They said they’d had some retreat in California with friends. Since I blocked everyone in Brantley’s family on social media, and some of them blocked me back, I couldn’t even snoop. I still haven’t had the nerve to try to see if they’ve unblocked me, because seeing him with someone else would destroy me.
I could have gone with him, but my life was here and we both knew it. My mom always said, ‘If you love something let it go and if it’s meant to be it will come back.’ The saying is sweet, but he’s clearly not coming back—at least not for me.
I’m still not okay, and trust me, I’ve tried dating. My parents, cousins, aunts and uncles, and every friend, have all tried setting me up. I feel like my weekends are spent flopping around meeting strangers everyone else thinks could be my match. I’m actually looking forward to going to the mountains for this particular seize. It’s going to take a while to capture this huge female and her puppies. We think there’s eight, but who knows until we see them.
Since someone has to man the fort here at the shelter, I’m going solo, with the assistance of the new game warden and nearby park ranger as a volunteer. Part of the mountain property is dangerous terrain, so the assistance is greatly appreciated.
It’s rare for us to work with game wardens unless the animals are located on state land. In this case, one side of the mountain belongs to the owners and the other is state property for about thirty thousand acres surrounding that. The adult dog was last seen on the state land, which is why we were notified of the breeder and the poor conditions the animals were living in.
Our local Animal Control already came and seized the livestock, taking those animals to a separate facility that holds auctions for larger farm animals. They don’t have the space for more dogs, and I volunteered my services. I’m always doing that, helping when I don’t have a pot to pee in myself. This rescue going to be a challenge. It’ll be an all-hands-on-deck sort of job.
Juan sticks his head in my office door. “I’m heading out. Be safe out there this weekend. Hopefully, you find her this afternoon and don’t have to spend the night. I heard there was a bigfoot sighting last week.” He’s laughing as he delivers the joke, which makes it even more corny.
“If Bigfoot exists, he’s not going to want to eat me. I’ve been on a cabbage soup diet for the past two weeks. I probably taste like boiled shit. At the least I’ll defend myself with farts. I don’t know how much weight I’ve lost, but there’s a good three inches worth of air I’ve already expelled from both ends.”
Juan’s face curls in disgust. “That’s nasty, woman. This is why you’re still single. All that dirty talk—and it’s not the good kind either.” Shaking his head, he scowls. “Keep some things to yourself, Sarah. Don’t scare away your help. Sasquatch might like the taste of farts the most.”
A light giggle escapes me. “Worth a try. Guess we shall see.” I pause for a minute before adding, “At least I’ll get to meet the new game warden. He’s highly regarded for his tracking experience, with some thirty years on the job is what my dad said.”
Juan comes completely in the office to finish our conversation. “Why is it that old Rusty hears more gossip than women at the hairdresser’s?”
Rusty is my dad. Everyone jokes that people like to tell him things he has no business knowing. At family gatherings he always has the latest local rumors and news. My father thinks it’s hilarious, my mom not so much. Even though she’s not the one with the information, people call her for the tea. She used to get stuck on the phone for hours with people being nosy about others. While some stories are funny, others are pretty private, like the time Mahon Moore’s parents both got gonorrhea at their nursing home. Apparently, old people like to swing, and spread the clap.
“Sounds like he’ll be nice to have around,” Juan adds.
Our front desk clerk pushes past Juan and interrupts, “Word on the street is that wildlife guy had to go out on medical leave two nights ago after he had a mild heart event. Don’t worry, they called this morning and said a replacement will meet you on the mountain around noon. The cabin near fire tower four is vacant in case you need to stay. That’s where he’ll meet you.”
“Oh wow, that’s terrible news about the guy, and okay, thanks for letting me know. That gives me some more time to finish things here. I’ll check in when I have service, and if there’s a medical emergency, make sure my father is notified. Follow protocol otherwise for the weekend. Give our patient extra attention and don’t let Rufus dig holes by the fences so everyone escapes. That’s all I need this week.”
“We can handle it. Your mom already walked over and went over everything with me this morning. She wanted to remind me they’d be available.”
I shake my head. Sometimes I wish my rescue was miles away and not next door, but I’m not one to look a gift-horse in the mouth.