Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
The sun inched higher in the sky as I drove back to town, trying not to think too hard about a case I had no jurisdiction over or enough information to solve.
I had purchased a bottle of water and a bag of chips from a gas station, leaving them on the passenger seat for easy access as I drove.
As I flew down the highway back towards town I grabbed the water, twisting off the cap and downing half of it as I realized just how hot my car had gotten while I was out there.
Rolling down the windows, I dug into the bag of chips next, munching away as I thought about how Kenna’s little stakeout had actually done me a favor. Otherwise I might have never ventured out here. What other hikes might I want to try now that I knew just how much I enjoyed them?
I was almost back to civilization, the last chip was halfway to my mouth, when I caught sight of a dark spot in the distance. It was right in the middle of the road and as I squinted in an attempt to make out what it was, it moved.
I finished the chip as I slowed to a crawl, cautiously watching the animal—it was still too far to tell what kind, but as I got closer, I became certain it was an animal—lumber down the road. It was the color of a black bear, but only big enough to be a cub.
I didn’t know enough about the wildlife in the area to know the likelihood it was a bear, but I rolled up the windows as I got closer, just in case.
When I was still a good distance away from the animal, it turned, and I realized it wasn’t a bear cub, or a calf, or even a wolf. It was just a very big dog.
I frowned, glancing around for any sign of the owner, but I had been watching the dog for a good few minutes as I approached and I hadn’t noticed any other movement in the area.
There was no one in the field on the left side of the road, or the woods on the right, and no cars parked along the highway.
Even with the distance between us I could see just how big the dog was, and while I couldn’t tell what breed it was, the idea of someone’s pet wandering off—or God forbid being left out here on purpose—caused me to pull over.
I turned on my hazards as the dog continued to approach, seemingly unaware of me as it sniffed its way down the center of the road.
No humans showed up chasing after it or calling it back to their side and after a moment of indecision I twisted around and grabbed the unopened bag of freeze-dried cheese off my back seat where I had all but forgotten them.
Tearing it open, I pulled one of the cubes out and stepped out of the car as I lifted it up, letting out a sharp whistle to get the dog’s attention. Its head perked up, floppy ears perked as it looked in my direction.
“Treats!” I called, figuring any domestic dog would know that word and come running.
It worked, the dog sprinting towards me. My eyes widened as it got closer, not slowing down in the slightest. Realizing how easily it could knock me over if it decided to jump up on me to reach the treat in my hand, I tossed the treat, stopping the dog in its tracks.
His massive jaw snapped as he caught the cheese out of the air and gulped it down, tail wagging.
There was something off about the rhythm of the tail’s movement, and as I stared at it I realized after a moment that there was a kink in his tail about a third of the way down.
He didn’t seem to be in any pain over it, tail moving back and forth with a fury.
“Where is your owner?” I asked, but he didn’t understand and couldn’t answer so instead he trotted up to me and nudged my hand, sniffing furiously. “You want another one? Okay, okay, hold on.”
I shook another freeze-dried cheese out of the bag and offered it to him. He snagged it from my palm with a gentleness I hadn’t expected and then licked my fingers, leaving a trail of saliva behind.
I grimaced and wiped my hand on my running shorts.
“Alright big guy, come on,” I said, bribing the dog to follow me to the back of the car. I didn’t know what to do with him, but I was certain I couldn’t leave him out here on his own. He wasn’t wearing a collar, but he had to belong to someone. Someone must be missing him.
I thought back to that woman who had come to pick up donations for her shelter at that pet store and then looked down at the dog sitting at my side, panting but still wagging his tail.
My heart clenched at the idea of leaving him in a shelter kennel with no way of knowing he’d gotten back to where he belonged.
But I couldn’t simply take him home with me either. He wasn’t mine, and I had to do my best to figure out who he did belong to.
I knew what it was like to be forced to take on a new name and a new life, after all.
I couldn’t do that to him. Besides, most dogs were chipped and anyone looking for this guy would start their search at the shelters.
If I had to give him to a shelter, though, I wanted it to be the one that received donations from that fancy pet store.
Resigned to the obvious course of action, I opened my back door and tossed a bit of cheese inside.
The dog clambered in to chase after it and I closed the door behind him.
Glancing around the empty stretch of road one last time, I found myself wondering how I’d come out here searching for an escape only to leave with a wayward dog instead.
The moment I reached the pet store I realized I had an issue.
I sat there, staring at the large glass windows where products were displayed in cute ways, wondering how I could walk this dog inside without a collar.
Leaving him out in the car in this heat, even with the windows rolled down, was simply out of the question.
Taking stock of what little I had available, my eyes fell on the tow strap that sat in the footwell of the back seat.
I hadn’t thought much of it, but as I looped the strap into a makeshift collar and lead, I had to wonder what Noah had been planning to tow with such a small car.
Double checking that the tow strap was secure around his neck without being too tight, I released the dog from the car.
He immediately began to pull me towards the doors of the pet store.
I wondered if his owners had brought him here before, or if he could simply smell the delicious treats awaiting him inside.
“Welcome in!” a chipper voice called as I entered the store with the dog trotting along beside me.
Effy had a huge smile on her face as she came around the counter.
The dog scrambled towards her, pulling on his makeshift leash as his nails clattered against the concrete floor. “Oh, hello sweet boy!”
“I take it you know him?” I asked, watching as he obediently sat in front of the woman with his crooked tail sweeping back and forth along the floor.
“I do!” she replied, her smile brightening. “You don’t get many Cane Corso around here and Rogue’s tail is very distinctive. I take it you’re the new foster?”
“Oh, no,” I said, lifting the tow strap to show just how unplanned my new—temporary—companion was. “I was just hoping you could tell me the name of that shelter you donate to? I’m not from around here and I wasn’t sure where else to bring him.”
“Poor boy. You’ll find your forever home eventually, buddy.
And the shelter list rotates. I’m better at remembering dog names than people or shelters.
Let me go take a look at who we have this month,” she said the last part to me, but she was still sending Rogue a sad look.
She headed to the register area and pulled a white three-ring binder from beneath the counter and scanned a page before looking up at me.
“Right now, we’re donating to Street Dog Hero. ”
“Perfect,” I said, looking down at what was certainly a street dog as he scavenged a doggy biscuit from the floor near a long line of metal tubs filled with biscuits and no lids in sight.
I hauled him away before he could cause me to owe the store for letting him eat his weight in treats.
Waving to the cashier, I guided him back out the door with a resolute focus on figuring out where this dog currently belonged.
The little bell on the door jingled as I walked in, the dog’s ears drooping as he followed me without a fight. Considering how enormous he was, I doubted I could force him to go anywhere he didn’t want to be even if I attached the tow strap to my car.
The same woman who had come to pick up the donations was sitting at the front desk, focused on the papers in front of her, but she looked up as we walked in.
“Hi,” she said with a bright smile, and then looked down at the dog beside me and frowned, recognition in her eyes.
She stood up and walked around the front desk, making a beeline for the dog.
She knelt so she was eye level with him, reaching out to scratch one of his ears as she spoke.
“Oh Rogue, what are we going to do with you?”
“I found him out on route 97, just walking in the middle of the street,” I said, a frown forming as the full picture began to form.
This woman was disappointed to see him because he kept ending up back here.
But he didn’t seem like a mean or difficult dog.
Just massive, every inch of him full of love.
“Rogue is a bit of a repeat customer,” she answered, standing back up and reaching out a hand to shake. “I’m Olivia, by the way.”
“Hale.” I shook her hand and looked down at the dog sitting beside me. He was so well behaved, didn’t seem like the type to be returned over and over again.
“Like I said, we see Rogue in here often. He has a bad habit of heading South if he’s left unattended and that tends to cause problems with most potential adoptees.
But thank you for bringing him back, Hale,” Olivia said.
She scratched the dog under his chin and took on a higher-pitched voice as she spoke.
“It’s okay, Rogie, we’ll find you a forever home.
But you have to stop running away. You know the Millers would have worked out if you had just stayed put.
They’re a nice family. They liked you. But they already called and said you can’t go back.
Yes they did. They weren’t the right home, but we’re going to figure this out, don’t you worry. ”
I turned away from the scene of the woman imparting the bad news in a high-pitched voice, the dog unaware that anything was amiss.
My heart broke at the thought of that poor dog not finding a place to belong or a family willing to keep trying with him.
Thankfully Olivia changed focus quickly, taking out a leash and collar from behind the counter and securing him before she released the tow strap and returned it to me.
I turned my back on the woman and the dog, hating the twist of guilt that gripped me. I wasn’t in a place to do any more for Rogue than I already had. I reminded myself of that over and over again as I headed towards the door.
Before I reached it, it opened again with a little jingle. The man who stepped through the door was familiar, his white beard and dirty grey coat recognizable from my morning runs.
He froze in the doorway, his eyes cautious as he looked over my shoulder before backing out of the building.
I followed him out, forehead wrinkling as I watched him stand just on the other side of the door, watching closely as Olivia walked Rogue into the back of the building where I assumed the kennels were located.
“So this is where you get all your dogs,” I said, drawing his attention away from whatever strange reaction he was having to Rogue. It didn’t seem like he was afraid, but there was a wary look to him as he moved his focus from the interior of the shelter to settle on me.
“What?” he asked, and then understanding dawned on him as he took me in as if only just noticing I was there. “Oh, yes, this is where the dogs come from. I’ve been volunteering with the shelter for years. It’s good for them to get out, and good for me to have them around.”
“I’m glad,” I said with a wry smile. “You don’t seem to like Rogue, though?”
“Rogue doesn’t like me,” the man corrected me.
“I used to take him out on rotation but the last time I did, about a year ago now, he lost his mind and started snarling at me when a woman came up on foot trying to give me a few dollars. I’ve never seen a dog look as terrifying as he did in that moment. Zero to a hundred in two seconds flat.”
“Huh,” I said, wondering what had set Rogue off like that. He seemed like such a sweetheart, but I’d only known him for an hour or so.
“It’s a shame, because he was a good dog to have around, otherwise,” the man said and I nodded, only half listening as I looked back at the shelter.
I knew it was meant to be a safe place for dogs to be until they found a home, but all I could think about was the bars of a kennel and how similar they must be to the bars of a prison.
Other than one isolated incident it didn’t sound like Rogue had done anything to deserve being locked away.
He simply didn’t conform to other people’s expectations of him.
It sounded like he needed to be active, was always running off on his own, and didn’t like being pinned down. In that way, he and I were very alike.
The homeless man went back inside as Olivia returned to the front desk and I watched as the two of them talked before she disappeared and returned with the chihuahua.
As he left, the little dog came over to me and sniffed at my feet.
I bent down to pet it, giggling as it jumped up to lick at my face.
Then the two of them were gone, hobbling off down the street.
As I watched them go, I felt an ache in my heart once more.
But there was nothing I could do. Nothing I could offer to any of these dogs, especially Rogue.
I had more than enough going on already.
He clearly needed stability and dedication.
Someday, maybe, I could give a dog that.
Until then I would have to satisfy myself with knowing that the people at Street Dog Hero were doing everything they could to find him a good home.