Incident 3 The Pound Dilemma #3
Dunham was already pressed up against the chain link, exchanging greetings with the dog.
Zen was a warm grey color with a white chest and russet-colored eyes.
Someone had clipped back his ears, but his tail was still long and curved.
Said tail currently wagged with whip-like speed as he touched noses with Dunham.
The dog made yipping, high-pitched whines in the back of his throat, so excited he couldn’t contain himself.
To be fair, the massive Scotsman wasn’t much better.
Chloe pressed in at Dunham’s side, also exchanging greetings. Zen wasn’t at all zen with two werewolves making cooing noises at him.
“Wow, he really likes you guys.” Maggie watched this play out with her eyebrows lost in her hairline. “I’ve never seen him react like that. He’s friendly to people, but he’s clearly gone on you two. Um, you want me to take him out into the yard, let you guys interact?”
Dunham’s head came up and he gave her a look that suggested she had lost her mind. “What? No, we be takin’ him. Himself be awesome. No need at all, at all to draw this out, just give me the paperwork to sign.”
Nonplussed, Maggie stared at him for a second, blinking. “Uh. Okay? Sure, we can do that. Just him? I know you really liked Savvy, too.”
Chloe was typing frantically on her phone, but she spared a look up. “Yes, her too. And who’s this little guy over here? Oh, aren’t you the sweetest, yes, you’re the goodest boy, come here and give me kisses.”
The little terrier mix was glad to do so, all twenty pounds of him pressed up against the chain link so he could reach this nice werewolf making kissy noises at him. Ross caught her shoulder and pulled Chloe back with a stern look.
“That’s three dogs. You’re at your limit.”
“That’s two dogs,” she corrected him immediately. “Dunham has Zen, right? Dunham? Dunham!”
It was at that point Ross realized that while trying to corral Chloe, he’d lost control of Dunham, who was on the opposite side of the aisle and already giving scratches to a massive dog with white fur.
The dog leaned into the chain link hard enough to bend it out of shape, head tilted back as Dunham scratched at his chin, a look of ecstasy on his face.
Growling, Ross stalked for the other werewolf. “Dunham. Focus, man.”
“He be such a good lad,” Dunham said, still scratching with a concerned look on his face. “And he’s been here for almost a year, which just be wrong. I need to take him out of here, Ross. And what about this wee bairn over here? Ye be a good lad too, ain’t ye?”
Gripping his shoulder firmly, Ross leaned in to remind him in a low tone, “We need a church grim. A, as in singular. And the two of you can’t rescue every dog in here. You’re limited to six in between you.”
Clearly having heard him, Chloe assured him in a carrying voice, “Oh, don’t worry about that.”
Ross shot her an exasperated look. He really should have known better than to bring these two in here. Werewolves couldn’t seem to help themselves where dogs were concerned. They went a little dog crazy every time they saw one. He hissed to Dunham again, “A cemetery doesn’t need six church grims!”
It was Dunham’s turn to give him an exasperated look, as if Ross was the slow one. “What ye be sayin’, man? Dogs be pack animals! The more the merrier. Ye canna leave ’em by ’emselves. Maggie, who be this wee, loveable lad?”
“Oh, that’s Fred. He’s two years old and full size. He won’t get any bigger than that. He’s great with other dogs. We think he’s a lab mix?”
Ross tried to console himself. At least they were only going to have six dogs. It could have been worse. He could have really lost his mind and brought Fyffe along too. Then they would have ended up with nine dogs.
Sidling up to him, Chloe hooked Ross’s elbow and drew him further away from the other two, pointing hopefully to a dog. “I really love this boy here, he’s a sweetie. But he tells me he likes this girl next to him, this pup. Don’t you—”
Holding up a hand, Ross told her firmly, “I am not enabling you. You two are set on rescuing as many dogs as you can, and you’re grown adults so I can’t stop you, but I’m not adopting dogs for you. No.”
Chloe pouted like a five-year-old denied a pony. “Fine. I’ll wait until Hetta gets here.”
Those distant alarms clamoring earlier? They were back with a vengeance. “Why would Hetta come here? Wait, were you texting someone earlier?”
“Of course!” Chloe rolled her eyes, flicking her ash-grey hair casually over one shoulder. “I know you can’t talk to these guys like we can, but they’re so over being cooped up in here. They want to run with us so bad. And they’re all good, sweet dogs. How can I leave them here?”
Ross, from what he could discern, estimated twenty-something dogs in the kennel right now.
There were six kennels on either side, two aisles, so twenty-four altogether, but there wasn’t a dog in every kennel.
He had the paralyzing suspicion that by the end of the day, there wouldn’t be a single dog left in here.
Hoping he was wrong, he asked slowly, “Who all did you text?”
“I used the group chat,” Chloe answered with a brilliant smile.
“So, in other words….all the dogs.”
She didn’t seem to find a problem. Shrugging in agreement, she went to the next kennel while making cooing noises.
Ross looked around at all the dogs who were happy to meet the werewolves, and kicked himself for not thinking ahead. It wasn’t that he disliked dogs. Rather the opposite. But getting twenty-something dogs all at once was a bit much, right? Right? Limits needed to be imposed somewhere.
And he had a feeling this was not what Glenn had had in mind.
Ross hesitated, thinking of time schedules and such.
Glenn would surely be asleep by now. He normally went to sleep around dawn.
Sometimes he stayed up later, though. Ross mentally crossed his fingers that this was one of those times and made the decision.
Hoping a higher power might be able to get through where he could not, Ross called up his boss.
Glenn answered on the second ring, his baritone sounding sexy and a little rough. “Hello? Ross?”
Ross kicked himself. Glenn had obviously been asleep. “Glenn. Sorry to wake you. I might have miscalculated.”
Only slightly worried, Glenn inquired, “How badly and what’s going on?”
“On the scale of one to ten, maybe a three? We’re out here looking for a good church grim candidate. They’ve got two senior dogs here, which means we’ll achieve our objective just fine. The problem is that I took Chloe and Dunham with me in order to vet the dog and, well….”
“Now they want all the dogs?” Glenn didn’t even sound surprised.
Ross pulled the phone away from his ear to glare at it. Replacing it against his ear, he growled, “If you knew they would do something like this, you could have warned me.”
“They’ve not done something like this in thirty years or more.
We ended up with a pack of ten last time.
Ha! It was funny, actually, seeing them all in wolf form running and frolicking with their dogs.
I used to stand at the window and just watch.
But you’re at one of those rescues, right? So they only have a few dogs to get.”
“We’re at the pound, and I estimate there’s twenty or so to adopt,” Ross corrected dryly.
There was an audible hiccup.
“You see the problem now?”
“Shit. Who all knows about this?”
“All the werewolves. Chloe texted them before I realized what she was doing.”
Glenn sighed, long and loud.
Ross couldn’t help but add, “In my defense, you didn’t warn me.”
“In my defense, I forgot they do this from time to time. It has been thirty years and I’ve slept since then. But twenty dogs won’t be so bad, right?”
“Who are you trying to convince—me or you?”
“Me, mostly. Is there no reasoning with them?”
“It really doesn’t look that way from where I’m standing.”
“OMG, they’re all so cuuuuute!” a female voice rang out, tone climbing with doggy ecstasy.
“Hetta just entered the building, didn’t she.”
Ross turned to find the voluptuous brunette beelining straight for the nearest dog. “You are correct. Glenn?”
“Pray for you?”
“I was going to say have something strong and on ice ready for me.”
“I can do that too.” Glenn somehow managed to keep a straight tone while laughing at the same time. Really, that sort of verbal acrobatics was impressive. “Should I bring the van?”
“Do not enable them, for god’s sakes. And I’m going to pound it into their heads right now that poop cleanup duty is totally on them. Maybe that will impact them.”
“I don’t lay good odds on that.”
Neither did Ross.
“Ross, unclench your jaw. Now, take three deep breaths.”
Ross found himself obeying without really thinking about it.
And he felt marginally better. It was odd, how soothing he found Glenn’s voice.
That combination of masculinity and confidence was a heady mix that slid past most of Ross’s defenses without trying.
He sometimes irreverently wondered just what it would be like if Glenn turned that voice against him on purpose.
“Good. Now, this isn’t a disaster. It is more than we need, certainly, but it’s—”
He lost all track of what the man was saying as Maggie led one of the dogs out of the kennel and Hetta immediately went down on one knee. Ross tilted the phone away from his mouth before barking out the command, “HETTA, STOP LICKING THE DOG!”
Hetta lifted her head long enough to look him dead in the eye. “This sparks joy.”
Glenn sighed. “Why don’t I just come down there.”
“What?” Attention jerked back to the phone, Ross denied hastily, “No. No, don’t do that, the sun’s hard on you. Go back to sleep. I’ve got this.”
Translated: Ross certainly did not have this, but be prepared to be thoroughly entertained.