Chapter Eight
Whatever I’d been anticipating on the other side of that door, it wasn’t what I got.
In my head I had a hazy idea of my future furry friend. Small. A dog that bounced up to the cage door.
Hello! Is it me you’re looking for? as a Lionel Ritchie soundtrack played in my head.
What I hadn’t been expecting was the noise. The cacophony of barking.
Pick me!
No, me!
Hey, over here! Look! See my tail? It wags faster than a metronome.
Hellooo! Here’s my paw. High-five me!
Oh God, this was awful. How was I going to choose one dog from so many?
Ahead I could see the man who’d been talking to Rachel minutes earlier. He was crouching down. One hand through the bars of a door as he caressed a shaggy head.
I looked away. Concentrated on the immediate kennels closest to me. A grinning chihuahua. A Jack Russell with a curling lip. A cheeky looking mongrel straight out of Lady and the Tramp. A Springer Spaniel practically doing cartwheels to get my attention. A dull-eyed German Shepherd curled up in her basket. I paused. Stared at her. She looked like she’d given up hope.
I walked on. Past Denny the Great Dane. Then a cute Yorkshire Terrier. Several Staffies. A Border Collie.
There were about forty kennels in all. Each housed a dog that wanted to know what was going on. Who was walking through. All, apart from that German Shepherd.
I was now approaching the good-looking man. He was still down on his haunches, making a fuss of a brown-and-white mongrel. The dog’s ecstatic body language conveyed that it had found Nirvana. The man rocked back on his heels. Glanced up. To my surprise, he spoke to me.
‘Have you found your fur-ever friend?’ he enquired pleasantly.
I paused. Stood uncertainly.
‘I’m not sure,’ I said honestly. ‘There’s a miserable looking Alsatian back there, but I’m terrified of the breed.’ I gave a helpless shrug. ‘Pathetic, eh.’
‘Not at all,’ he said. ‘When I was a kid, I used to be scared of Rotties. That is, until my mate got himself a pup. He called her Mabel, and she was so cute. I watched her grow up. Indeed, I ended up regularly walking with my friend and Mabel. It was then that I lost my fear of the breed. My friend had her for fourteen years. We cried together when Mabel crossed the Rainbow Bridge.’
The man stopped making a fuss of the mongrel and stood up. His knees briefly cracked, and he laughed.
‘It doesn’t matter how many times a week I go to the gym’ – he pulled a face – ‘it doesn’t stop my bones from making that sound.’
‘I know the feeling,’ I said, grinning.
‘Come on.’ He jerked his head. ‘Let’s look at that German Shepherd. I’ll bet she’s not scary at all.’ He turned to speak to the mongrel. ‘I’ll be back in a bit, fella,’ he assured. ‘You’re coming home with me.’
The dog gave a woof of delight.
‘That was a quick decision,’ I said, as we walked over to the German Shepherd’s kennel. ‘I won’t be able to make up my mind so quickly. If anything, I want to take all of them home. Obviously, that’s not possible. What made you choose the mongrel?’
‘Because’ – the man touched his heart – ‘I felt it here. And I suspect you might have felt it there too when you walked past the German Shepherd’s kennel.’
‘Well, it was more… feeling sorry for the dog,’ I said carefully.
‘Here she is,’ he said. We paused to read the information about the dog within. ‘Hi, I’m Bess,’ the man read. ‘I’m eight years old and here through no fault of my own. You see, my owner died–’
‘Oh!’ I exclaimed. My eyes brimmed. I blinked away the tears that momentarily threatened to ambush me.
The man made no comment about my reaction, but I noticed his raised eyebrow. He carried on reading.
‘Consequently, I’ve been feeling very depressed. Currently, I don’t want to interact with visitors. People assume I’m being stand-offish and aloof. The truth is that I’m feeling miserable and sorry for myself.’
‘That’s why she’s so despondent,’ I breathed. Nothing like stating the obvious.
‘Also’ – the man continued to read from the poster – ‘because I’m an older dog, I’m worried about finding a new home. However, there are lots of advantages to having a Golden Oldie.’ Upon hearing those last two words, something stirred in my heart. ‘First off, I’m house-trained. Second, I’m obedient. Third, I’m a little stiff in my hips so only need short walks or a garden to play in.’ I thought about the garden at home. It was perfect for a dog of this size. ‘In return, I will be your loyal companion and never leave your side.’
Hmm. I wondered what Greg would make of a dog like this one. I had a sudden vision of a huge beast slumped on our bed. Of me waking up with a whiskery muzzle pressed into my face. But then again, if Bess had arthritic hips, maybe she wouldn’t be able to climb the stairs?
The man had finished reading and was now studying Bess.
‘C’mon, girl,’ he coaxed. He stuck one hand through the bars. ‘Come and say hello.’
Bess remained in her basket. She was coiled up so tightly her nose was touching her bottom. Only her eyes moved. They were watchful as the man continued to click his fingers.
‘Bess,’ the stranger crooned. ‘Bessie baby. Let me make a fuss of you.’ She ignored him. ‘Boy, she really is depressed,’ he said, extracting his hand. He turned to me. ‘I’m Dylan, by the way.’ He offered me the same hand that he’d shown Bess. I shook it.
‘Maggie,’ I said.
Dylan’s palm was large and warm. His touch unleashed an unexpected stream of feelings within me. Contact. Tenderness. Companionship. Also, a terrible, terrible yearning. When had Greg last held my hand? When had my husband last touched me? And the answer was… well, not for a while.
But something else had also registered. Something that I didn’t want to acknowledge. But the tingles shooting up my fingers… into my wrist… up my arm… straight into my armpit… they told another story. Attraction. Chemistry. Well, likely not on this man’s part. Of course not. He was a good-looking guy, and years younger than me. But what this electric sensation told me was that there was something very wrong with my own marriage. And sooner or later, it was going to have to be addressed.