Chapter 4
chapter four
Caleb
I walk out of the barn with more worries than I had walking into it.
I never thought about it before, but the place is kind of shabby, and I’m not sure what I was thinking by hosting the gala here.
I should have rented a big facility somewhere nice, but that costs a lot of money and the goal here is to raise money, not spend it.
When I quit my job at Lawson Police Department, I got paid out for the eight months of paid leave I’d accrued over my time working there since I never took any time off.
That added to my strong savings has allowed me the ability to work here for at least three years until I need to pay myself a salary.
It helps living rent free in the home I own and split bills five ways with my brothers, that’s for sure.
And unlike the rest of them, I won’t ever settle down and need to move out and start a family.
I’m not the “get married” type. This facility is my home, forever.
That doesn’t mean I’ve got unlimited funds for throwing a fancy gala, so the barn has to work.
Charlotte seems more than capable. I need to help her get over her fear of dogs, though.
If she doesn’t see the mission as important, this will just be another gig to her.
I need her to care about it. Maybe I just need the validation that what I’m doing here is a good idea.
That’s what my cousin Poppy would say. She was the first to come on board with my idea of starting a nonprofit and she’s the first to assure me that this will all work out. Too bad she’s out of town this month.
“It’s back here,” I say, leading her around the back of the new administration building. We have two kennel houses set up back here, with space for several more. Each one has space for two dogs, but Rex is currently our only tenant.
“Wow, these are cool,” Charlotte says. “These are dog kennels?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Each building looks like a tiny house, painted gray with a real shingle roof and air conditioning.
The buildings are set up with one dog space on the left side, one dog space on the ride side, and the other side of the room is the caretaker space.
A metal enclosure wall separates the kennels from the caretaker space. I open the door for her.
“You don’t have to call me ma’am,” she says, pausing at the open door.
“I can’t help that I was raised right,” I say with a wink.
“You promised no more flirting, and that wink was flirting.”
“You technically haven’t seen Rex yet,” I say, motioning for her to step into the kennel. “Which means I have a few more seconds of flirting opportunity.”
She rolls her eyes.
“You’re seriously the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen,” I say quickly.
I’m messing with her, but it’s the truth, too, which makes an awkward knot form in my stomach.
Flirting with her almost feels wrong. She deserves way more than someone like me.
“And you’re smart too, which is extra attractive. ”
“Are you done yet? Because I’m not going to date you.”
“I don’t plan on asking you on a date.”
Her eyes lift, just a tiny bit of surprise on her otherwise professional expression. I shrug. “I’m what they call a perpetual bachelor. Learned a long time ago that dating isn’t for me.”
She steps into the kennel which fills with the thumping sound of Rex’s tail smacking the wall. She sucks in air through her teeth, stepping backward.
“Hey buddy,” I say, holding out a hand toward the fencing which keeps him separated from us. He sniffs it, tail still wagging. “This is Charlotte, the event planner you nearly knocked over earlier.”
His mouth hangs open happily, like he’s smiling at us.
Charlotte is stiff as a board, hands clenched around her clipboard as if it’s a shield.
“You want to say hi, Rex?” I ask him. “Gib laut.”
He barks once, loud and deep. Charlotte squeaks in fear, stepping backward. I touch her shoulder. “Sorry. That was his command to speak.”
“Warn me next time,” she says, her voice shallow. “That thing is so terrifying.”
I look at the German Shepherd, tail wagging, tongue hanging out of his mouth. He looks as far from terrifying as it gets, but I guess I’m biased. “Sitz.”
He sits, tail still wagging. “Another officer tried adopting him but he was too aggressive, so they were going to euthanize him. My buddy Jace heard about it and stepped in to take him, but Rex doesn’t really get along with other dogs, and Jace has three other dogs.
He thought he’d found a good home for him with an older woman who had a lot of land for him to run around on, but she got sick and her family sent him to be euthanized.
They said it wasn’t worth the risk of him biting someone. ”
Charlotte watches Rex in silence. I continue.
“I went to the shelter and took him home, against their wishes. They said he was a lost cause and too aggressive and unadoptable. But he’s a retired hero and he deserves to live out his retirement happy and taken care of. He’s our first foundation resident.”
“He shouldn’t be euthanized,” Charlotte says, frowning. She never takes her eyes off him. “But I can’t see how it’s possible to keep a dog that’s so dangerous.”
“He’s not dangerous. At least, he won’t be. Most people give up too quickly, especially with high energy working dog breeds. He just needs some rehabilitation and the chance to meet his forever human.”
“Do you know how to do that?” she asks, eyeing me for the first time since we walked in here.
I nod. “First, you learn the dog’s triggers and then you learn to work with them, not against them.
Rex hates being restrained, which is why he wasn’t on leash when you got here.
He does really well if you let him roam around freely, and he obeys commands as you saw when I made him stop from jumping up on you. ”
Her lips slide to the side of her mouth, as if she’s finally considering the idea of maybe, possibly, not being terrified of Rex.
Hope grows in my chest. In a way, Charlotte is one of the first people to hear my pitch for my nonprofit.
I plan to grow this into a huge nationwide foundation that helps save and find homes for retired working dogs everywhere, and I’ll need to get good at convincing future donors that this is a good idea.
“I’ll have Rex adoptable by the gala. That’s kind of my big plan—to have this whole slide deck of photos telling his story as a working dog and how he was saved from euthanasia twice, and then reveal that he’s getting adopted.
That’s the mission of this place. Take in retired dogs who have nowhere else to go, get them rehabilitated if needed, and then find them loving homes. ”
“Hmm,” she murmurs, still watching Rex. Rex watches me eagerly, hoping for another command. I’ve only had him a couple of weeks and we’ve developed a decent bond. GSDs are pack animals. They want to bond with one human.
“Want to give him a treat?” I ask, keeping my voice low. Doesn’t matter—Rex still hears me. He squeaks out an eager sound, tail wagging faster, hoping to get the aforementioned T-word.
“I don’t know,” she says. “That would involve getting close to his massive teeth. He has a lot of teeth. Why are they all so sharp and pointy? You’re a retired dog now, Rex. No need to look so intimidating.”
I chuckle, reaching into the treat jar on a nearby shelf. I take out a lamb stick, the longest treat we have. “You can put it through the fence for him. His big teeth can’t fit through the fence holes.”
She exhales. Her hand shakes as she reaches toward mine, taking the treat at the end of it. Holding it with her thumb and index finger as lightly as possible, she brings it near the fence.
“Tell him to be gentle,” I say.
“Be gentle,” she tells Rex. Her voice shakes. The big dog stiffens, pointy ears focusing like antennas on her voice. He leans forward, doing as he’s told, and gently takes the treat from her hand. She giggles. “Good job, Rex!”
The treat is devoured in half a second. Rex wags his tail for more. “Can I give him another one?”
I hand her another lamb stick. “Looks like she’s warming up to you, Rex.”
She kneels down, getting to the dog’s eye level, and presses the treat through the fencing again. “Wait, is there more back there?” she says, peering through the doggie door at the back of Rex’s indoor kennel.
“Come see,” I say.
She follows me, telling Rex he’s a good boy as we walk out of the building.
The kennel building has a connected kennel run, a fenced in grassy area where the dogs can run and play safely then come back into the indoor area through a doggie door.
Rex follows us outside, tail wagging happily as we walk down the length of the fence.
“This is a really nice set up,” Charlotte says.
“We have space for three more dogs,” I say, gesturing to the other kennels. “One day I plan to add more buildings, maybe even ten or twelve. We can fill them with dogs who need homes and work hard to find them all perfect families for their retirement.”
“That’s a very noble goal,” she says. It’s not too hot outside, but her forehead glistens with sweat. Maybe she’s more fearful of Rex than she lets on.
“How about we go get some lunch?” I ask, clapping my hands together in front of my chest. “I’m starving. I’ll drive us.”
“No thanks,” she says, glancing at her smart watch. “I’m actually still on the clock.”
“You get a lunch break, don’t you?” I nod toward the house. “Let’s go inside and I’ll make you a mean BLT.”
“I’m good,” she says, wiggling her leg to pull her sharp heel out of the grass. “I think I’ve seen all I need to see for now. I’ll head back to the office and get started on…well…everything.” She glances at her clipboard and swallows. “Is this a good email for you?”
She taps my email address which is printed on the outside of the folder. “Yep. That’s my number, too. Call or text anytime.”
“Great,” she says, all back to business. “Thanks for the tour. I’ll be in touch.”
And then just like that, the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen—not that it matters—walks right back to her car, leaving this whole damn property feeling a little emptier.