Chapter 18
Chapter Eighteen
Olivia
“Hey, Carol? My accountant brain is going crazy wondering how you’re able to keep the rescue afloat. You have so many dogs, and a lot of them have special needs…” I trail off as I scoop food into bowls for the first group of dogs to eat.
“It’s been hard the last couple years. It’s already difficult enough to care for so many dogs, but figuring out how to provide for all of them financially gets to be overwhelming. Even after several years, I haven’t effectively figured out how to navigate it. Thankfully, local businesses and people around town have made a lot of donations over the years.
“I have a social media page where I share the dogs’ journeys. When I get dogs that need medical procedures, I’m able to fundraise through social media too, but creating content is exhausting. I hate doing it, and I don’t have the time to spend on it when fifty-something dogs are depending on me to take care of them.”
“I could help with the social media. I love creating content. I already have all kinds of pictures and videos that would be great for your page.”
“You’d do that?”
“Of course! I enjoy making content, and I’d love to help you. I’ve actually sort of been working on a marketing plan since I first came to the rescue.”
“Thank you.”
As I grab a bag of food, a shaggy white dog comes charging into the room. His ribs are protruding unhealthily, and he hobbles on three legs.
“What happened to him?” I gasp.
“This is Nate. He came to me earlier this week. We think he was neglected by his owner and finally escaped or was intentionally let loose. Then he got hit by a car and lost his leg.”
I stoop down as Nate approaches me and reach my hand out quietly, turning my head away from him so he doesn’t feel threatened. He sniffs it and steps away before slowly coming back to me. “Oh, the poor thing! I want to do more to help. I feel like coming here a couple times a week and helping with the social media isn’t enough. There has to be more I can do for these dogs.”
“If you have any ideas, I’m all ears.”
Pursing my lips, I admit, “I don’t have any ideas yet, but I’m not going to sleep tonight until I have something.”
“Please don’t lose sleep over this,” she says, rubbing my arm up and down with a gentle smile. “Let’s finish prepping group one’s food, and then you can go outside to play with some of the group two and three dogs.”
Carol splits the dogs into groups based on the amount of food they eat and rotates through feeding time to make it less overwhelming. It’s truly brilliant.
I dig the scoop back into the bag and pour food into the bowl in front of me, but my mind is already going one hundred miles a minute as I plan.
Once the last bowl is filled, I look to Carol for approval. When she nods, I grab the handle of the sliding door and draw it back. The dogs from group one noisily pour in from the kennel we corralled them into earlier.
“I’ll keep an eye on them. Why don’t you go find Maverick and play with the other groups?”
I silently exit the room, entering the sticky Texas humidity. I’m astounded by how warm it is here even though it’s later in the day and still only late May. Not a single one of the dogs seems fazed by the heat as they rough house with one another and chase each other around the edges of the enclosure.
Maverick rushes to my side the second he sees me, joyfully circling me with his tongue out. Soon his playmate joins him, and then another dog and another, until I’m swarmed with pooches. I accept the love, choosing to just sit in the grass while they all encircle me, eagerly trying to get some attention. I grab my phone and capture a video, doing a full 360 as nearly twenty dogs crowd around me.
Without thinking, I send the video to Rhett. He is the one who showed me the shelter. I’m sure he’ll be happy to see I’m enjoying my time volunteering.
Me
Just another day hard at work
Rhett
Looks like you’re working really hard there
I did just help Carol feed one of the megaesophagus pups. Those high chair-type things are not my friend
Mega-what?
Don’t tell me you don’t know what that means!
Do you even know what it means?
It’s a condition that affects the dogs’ esophagus and makes it difficult for him to eat his food without sitting upright.
I’m glad to see you’ve been enjoying your time there and learning new things. I know Carol appreciates the help
I wish I could do more
My phone vibrates in my palm with a call from Rhett.
“Hello?”
“If you want to do more for these dogs, then let’s figure out how to do more.”
“What do you mean?”
“What are you doing after you finish up at the rescue?”
“I was going to cook myself a late dinner and then lie awake for hours while I try to think of something to help the dogs.”
“Not anymore. I’ll help you come up with something.”
I swallow, trying to ease my dry throat. “You’ll help me?”
“Duh.”
My cheeks are definitely tomato-red now. “I’ll be another thirty minutes, and I need to grab dinner on the way home.” I pull my phone from my ear to check the time. It’s already seven thirty.
“I’ll make us something while you finish up. I’ve been waiting so we could eat together.”
“You didn’t need to wait.”
“I wanted to.” My heart soars, and I bite back a smile. “Text me when you leave.”
* * *
When I walk in the front door, my nose is immediately filled with the smell of cocoa. “Oh my god! It smells incredible! Are the brownies our dinner?” I wouldn’t complain if they were.
Rhett leads Maverick and me to the back door, answering my question by pulling off two steaks from the grill. “The brownies in the oven are just to celebrate when we come up with a genius idea on how to help Carol and the dogs.”
“You’re a saint.” I take a plate from him and sit down at the dining room table.
Maverick rushes to follow, looking up at us with hopeful eyes as we begin cutting into our steaks. Doing my best to ignore his begging, I explain to Rhett the current method of fundraising at the rescue. “I was thinking we could host a fundraising event for Resilient Paws that could be done a few times a year.”
Rhett’s lips slip into a smirk. “You haven’t stopped thinking about this since the idea popped into your head, huh?”
“Of course not! That’s just not how my brain works. I think of something, and I hyperfocus on it until I have a solution. Why do you think I have such bad anxiety?”
“That doesn’t sound healthy.”
“That’s what counseling is for, right?”
He snorts. “I guess so. How’s that going?”
“I’ve only had one appointment, so we haven’t gotten into a whole lot. It’s mostly been explaining my background so far, but I already like her better than the therapist I saw in college, and she gave me one small tip for managing my anxiety at the end of our session.”
“That’s good.”
Eager to get back on track, I clap my hands together. “Okay, so I just need to come up with an idea that will attract a lot of people for the fundraiser. It needs to be something great to bring in lots of money.”
“You don’t need to put so much pressure on yourself to figure everything out. I’m here to help too.”
I barrel on. “Maybe we could host some sort of event here in Roots. We could get the café involved, but I think we need more businesses too.”
He pulls my plate away from me, grabbing my attention. “I’m all for helping you with this fundraiser, but you need to promise me you’re not going to let this consume you. You came here to get away from stress, not to create more for yourself.”
“But—”
“Promise me, or I won’t help you. I fully support your mission to help Carol, but not at the expense of your mental health.”
“Fine, but I might need a little help. I don’t know how to shut my brain off.”
He smirks, sliding my plate back to me. “I know. We’ll work on it together.”
“Thank you.”
Dismissing my praise, he says, “I think getting the café involved could be great. Did you have anything in mind?”
“That’s where I’m a little stumped. I want to host a farmer’s market of sorts that would attract people from outside of Roots. I think there’s a lot of money to be found in the outskirts of Dallas that I’d love to bring in, but I’m not sure how to put all this together. I’m a tax accountant, not an event planner.”
He takes a few bites of his steak, chewing pensively. “That could work. We can get some more businesses in town involved, and maybe some smaller businesses from around Dallas would be interested in joining. We can pose it as a marketing opportunity for the businesses so that they have an incentive to join. Not everyone feels the need to help other people like you do.”
Excitement builds in me as I pull my phone out of my pocket.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m looking up small businesses in the Dallas-Forth Worth area. I’ll compile a list tonight and call them tomorrow before my shift at the café starts.”
“There’s no stopping you when you put your mind to something, huh?”
“Nope.”
There go his beautiful dimples.
He takes both our plates into the kitchen and says over his shoulder, “How can I help you slow down a little?”
“I already told you. I don’t know how to shut my brain off.”
He sets the plates down, crosses the kitchen back over to me, and scoops me up into his arms with a smile. Laughter slips from my lungs, and I catch myself wondering when the last time was that I laughed like this. It’s been gradual, but as I’ve been removed from my life in San Francisco over the last three and half weeks, I’ve started to feel lighter and lighter.
“I think I can find a way to help.”