15. Georgie
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
GEORGIE
Iam absolutely in love.
Birdie steals my heart the moment I lay eyes on her in her kennel.
Each door has a little ‘facts about me’ sheet about each pup we pass.
While some are perfectly content in their kennels, others are completely shut down.
Birdie is one of those dogs. Her cheat sheet has a photo of her smiling, tongue hanging out and eyes lit up with happy dog energy.
It’s the complete opposite to the dog I see inside the small space, curled up in the little bed they’ve given her and tucked under a small blanket, her toys discarded, food barely touched.
Noah calls to her to let her know we’re entering the kennel, and her little face pokes out of the blanket to greet him.
I melt. She’s the sweetest little thing, an average-sized pitbull breed, white colouring with grey spots on her ears, her sad grey-blue eyes that turn you into a puddle of goo the moment you look at her.
She has markings on her face that suggest where she came from before was not kind to her.
She’s got battle scars, just like me. I try not to tear up at the thought of this precious baby being anything but loved and adored.
Birdie stands from her safety nest she’s created, slowly waddles her little pittie body over to Noah, who has already crouched to greet her on her own time.
She walks right into his outstretched arms and places her chin on his shoulder as he coos and praises her.
He settles against the wall and lets her snuggle in.
When I sit down against the opposite wall, Birdie’s eyes open when I make noise.
She looks between Noah, and then me, and then decides that she’s going to give me a once over.
Noah remains silent, and I remain still as she sniffs me from feet to chin.
I gauge Noah’s reaction and I realize this must be a big deal for her because he’s beaming.
“Good girl, Birdie.” He says softly when she sits beside me, approving that I am good, she can trust me.
She sniffs my thighs longer than anywhere else, and I wonder if she knows that I have HS flares there right now.
Maybe she can sense it, maybe she can smell it.
She licks my leggings, which confirms that question in an instant, before she circles once, twice, and then lays down with her head in my lap.
Her eyes slip closed and she sighs, and I’m unsure what I should do with my hands.
I must look as unsure as I feel, because Noah lets out a soft laugh.
I glare at him, “What’s so funny?”
“She normally doesn’t warm up to people that quickly. She takes her time judging a person. Took me weeks to get her to not growl at me when she first came here.”
“You’re kidding.” I say, looking down at the pretty girl in my lap.
“Scout’s honour.” He crosses his heart, “She knows you’re good people.”
“How long has she been here?” I ask.
“Almost a year.”
“What? Why?”
He rubs the back of his neck, “Like I said, she takes a while to warm up to people. We’ve tried everything.
She gets judged because she’s a pittie mix, so that deters a lot of people right off the bat.
But then those that are interested usually don’t stick.
She gets more and more sad the longer she’s here.
She’d just start warming up to someone, or get used to someone coming to visit her, and then they go with a different dog, or they take her home for a trial period and then…
well.” He gestures to her as if to say, ‘she ends up back here’.
“I can’t imagine why,” I say thoughtfully to myself, giving her head a gentle scritch. Her eyes open and then close again with another sigh of acceptance.
“She’s also a special needs dog, Georgie. She requires extra attention that most people just don’t have time to give. She has Pemphigus Foliaceus.”
“I have no idea what that is.”
He explains to me what PF is, and I feel like I could cry.
Birdie is just like me. An autoimmune condition that presents as a skin condition, causing painful sores and scarring.
Hers was likely triggered by the inattention she faced in her life prior to Pawsitive Passion, but it’s a chronic incurable illness.
Just like me. I have never felt closer to someone or something in my life.
I feel the scars under my hand as I pet her, noticing the sores on her ears, her nose, on her belly when she rolls over to get more comfy.
“Why haven’t you adopted her?” I wonder out loud.
“Can’t have dogs in my apartment. She’s a little too big to hide in a backpack. Believe me if I could, I’d take her in a heartbeat.” I don’t doubt that. Noah loves Birdie, you can tell. I’m certain I am in love with her too.
“Does she like walks?”
At the mention of that magic word, Birdie’s eyes open, her ears perk up and they’re so cute I almost die. Her ears stick up straight when she’s excited or curious or happy. I like to think she’s all of the above.
“I will take that as a yes.” I say with a laugh and kiss her cute face. When I turn to see Noah watching, he’s the happiest I have ever seen him.
“What?”
“I told you you were a dog person.” He teases.
I roll my eyes. “I am a Birdie person.”
He hums, standing from the floor and then reaching down to help me up.
“I think I am a Georgie person.” He comments softly, squeezing my hand once before leaving the kennel to get a leash for Birdie and I am left standing here speechless.
I look down at Birdie, who watches the door patiently for his return, her tail wiggling just a bit.
“What was that?” I ask out loud, and she just sits and looks as if to say, ‘are you asking me?’
She hears Noah’s humming down the hall and looks to me again my favourite human is coming back, can you hear him? “You like him too, don’t you?”
She huffs at me, tongue lolled out and then she yawns. I nod in agreement and scritch her gently.
“I think he’s becoming my favourite person too.”