31. Teddy
THIRTY-ONE
TEDDY
Watching Nellie listening to the loons is going to go down as one of the best moments of my life. Forget bungee jumping in New Zealand or volunteering with elephants in Thailand—this morning as the fog rises from the lake with Nellie beside me tops the list. For so long, this felt like the most unreachable goal, finding her again and convincing her to let me back in.
While she watches the lake, her eyes wet with emotion, I get the coffee ready. When I’d snuck out to the truck to grab the supplies, Midge caught me and had me come into the house for a thermos full of her freshly brewed stuff.
“I like it strong, but I have a feeling you’ll both need it like this today,” she’d said while sealing the thermos up and shooing me out the door.
“You made coffee?” Nellie asks, wide-eyed but reaching out eagerly.
“Midge made coffee. But I did contribute something,” I say, reaching back into my pack and pulling out the box of maple creams .
“Oh yes.” I can’t help laughing at how her innocence transforms into greedy need.
“When did you become a cookies-for-breakfast person?” I ask, slipping one out for myself and watching as she dunks hers into the hot liquid for a few seconds before transferring it to her mouth. Her eyes close as the flavors hit her tongue and she looks completely blissed out. I suddenly want to make her face do that, no cookies or coffee involved, just Nellie and me.
She chews, swallows, and then shrugs. “My first job out of university, I had a coworker that made these incredible chocolate chip cookies. She’d bake them when she got up so they could cool while she got ready. I swear you could taste the dedication. I liked having one with my coffee in the afternoon, but did you know that caffeine can negatively impact your sleep?”
“Get out of town,” I joke.
“Well, it’s true. So I started having a cookie with my morning coffee, and then it just became a habit. I prefer a cookie with coffee, and since I don’t drink coffee past noon, morning cookies it is.”
“And when did you choose to have coffee with maple cookies?”
“That’s a pure nostalgia thing.” She smiles dreamily out at the lake. “My great-aunt and uncle had a cottage, and we’d go there in the summers. My aunt always bought those cookies. Since I was coming north, I figured I’d grab a pack. Kind of wishing I’d grabbed a few now.” She watches me bite into the dry cookie, and her eyes narrow. “At least eat it properly, EG.”
Dropping my hand, I stare back. “What?” she asks, her hand quickly brushing invisible crumbs from her mouth.
“You called me EG.” Do it again , I want to beg. Teddy on her lips is music; EG is a fucking siren song.
“I did,” she says slowly, as if she’s just realizing it herself. “Feels right.” She looks at me for another few seconds and then turns back to gaze out at the water, the loons greeting her attention with their calls to the morning.
“George was telling me there’s a woman on the outskirts of town that’s got a”—I raise my fingers in quotes—“‘menagerie of manky mongrels,’ and he was going to see if she wanted a visitor.”
“That could be fun. Or hostile. May want to ask Marley for some advice.” Nellie’s eyes are still on the view in front of us, but she’s smiling as she takes another sip of coffee. “What the hell would be considered the outskirts of this place? It kind of all feels like the outskirts.” She’s not wrong.
“He then told me the name, and it’s the rescue Bennett wants me to go check out. So that’s convenient.”
Three mornings later, I’m hauling a shelf of books down the steps of the airstream while Nellie gets things organized for the day. Kevin has finally caught his tail and is currently rolling around with it in his mouth.
“Why does it feel like him doing that is the most productive any of us is going to be today?” Nellie asks, hands on hips, looking down at Kevin. The minute he sees her looking at him he drops his tail and bounds over. “Hey buddy,” she coos, bending to pick him up. “Are you ready for more socializing?” Laughter bubbles out of her as Kevin goes in enthusiastically for all the licks. “Okay, okay, that’s enough of that for today.” Nellie lowers him back to the ground and uses the arm of her shirt to wipe her face.
“Mornin’,” George calls from halfway across the lot. “Teddy, I got Betty on the phone, and she said she’s already spoken to you. Also asked if you had any heartworm tablets?”
“Yeah, I’ve got a decent supply. Any clue how many she needs?”
George shrugs, looking lost. “Didn’t ask, and she didn’t say,” he shouts as an ATV pulls up to the gas station. George waves to the person who gets off the machine. When they take off the helmet, I’m shocked to see someone far younger than I had expected. “That’s Neulla. She’ll be watching the place while we go.”
“Oh, you’re coming? And you want to go now?” I ask, looking over at Nellie.
“Just waiting for”—George turns to the trail from Midge’s, and I see someone coming towards us—“Florence. Betty has quite the greenhouse, and that one never misses an opportunity to visit.”
“Are you going to be okay?” I ask Nellie.
She rolls her eyes dramatically. “Well, I don’t know, Teddy. It’s an absolute madhouse here. At least I’ll have Kevin to supervise.”
“You joke, but a little power is going to go straight to his head. He’s already a mini-Yogurt.”
“A GoGurt?”
“Isn’t that a travel yogurt?”
“Well, he is traveling,” she counters.
“Touché.” I laugh, gaze locked with Nellie’s.
A throat clears, and she looks away.
“Well if you two are done whatever this is, we better head out. I told Midge I’d have Flo back by the end of the school day.”
“Have fun, kids.” Nellie tosses me the keys to the truck.
“She’ll be fine,” George says as we are pulling onto the road. I drop my gaze from the rearview mirror onto the road ahead. “You two could probably use some time apart anyway. ”
“The tension is three c’s thick,” Florence agrees from the back seat.
“I don’t have a clue what that means,” George grumbles. “But it sounds accurate. Turn left at the next road and then drive until it ends.”
“Ominous.”
“Just keep your eyes open for moose and their young.”
“Hey, you said moose, plural.”
“I know proper English.” George grins over at me. “Getting Midge hot and bothered about grammar is what counts as entertainment around these parts.”
“Gross,” I hear Florence say quietly from behind me.
It turns out that the outskirts means a thirty-five-minute drive in any direction. George points at a crude hand-painted sign that reads Spencer Lake Rescue nailed to a tree at the end of a long gravel driveway and I turn in. Betty’s property is, as expected, large. There is a barn with runs and kennels, and every single one has an occupant. Most look to be huskies or lab mixes. Working dogs. Florence is off to the large glass greenhouse behind the house the minute I put the truck in park.
“That’ll be the last we see of her for a few hours,” George says as we watch her rush away from us.
“Welcome!” A middle-aged woman with gray-streaked brown hair greets us from her porch, coffee mug in hand. She’s wearing a flowing tunic and tights along with a pair of Birkenstocks.
“Thanks for putting clothes on for the occasion, Betty,” George chuckles.
“I know how our lifestyle makes you uncomfortable.” She waves away his comment. “You must be Teddy.” She pushes my outstretched hand aside and pulls me in for a hug. “None of that stiff handshake shit here, city boy. We Marmotans hug.”
“That Marmotan hugs,” George corrects .
“Nice to meet you,” I manage to get out as the woman crushes me to her.
“Coffee?” she asks, holding up her mug.
“I’m fine, thanks,” I say, looking up at the two-story home with its weathered white siding and black trim.
“I’ll take one if you don’t mind. Is Joshua inside?” George asks, already halfway to the door.
“He should be in the living room. He insisted on doing everything himself this morning so he may be in quite a state.”
“I am forewarned so I shall be forearmed,” George orates before disappearing through the creaky door.
“My husband had a stroke in January.” My face must convey my concern because she continues quickly, “He’s here, that’s what matters, but he did lose some mobility on his right side. A woman comes from the hospital in Timmins once a week for physio, but other than that, I’m his nurse, physiotherapist, and wife.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. This must be a lot of work for you then.” I gesture around the yard.
“Do what you love, and you’ll never work a day in your life.” She beams at me. “Although having Flo come by now and again is helpful. She’s a wonder in the greenhouse.”
Betty leads me through the whole operation. It’s not nearly as open as Bennett’s, but with the amount of wildlife around it makes sense. Half the dogs would end up forming a pack and running wild if she did things Bennett’s way.
As I had expected, many of the dogs had outlived their perceived usefulness to their previous owners. Dogs young enough to still have a decent life but a burden to their owners because they weren’t able to do the work they had been bred to do. Before Betty, many would have just been euthanized.
“Joshua drove a truck for the mill up here, and one day he brought this dog home. We hadn’t had one in years, and it was just so nice to have one in the house again. Pretty soon he was bringing one home at least once a month.” Betty sighs. “People got wind that Joshua’s wife couldn’t say no, so they would find him and leave dogs left, right, and center. Now, keep in mind these are working dogs so they don’t have the same need to be loved. At least they don’t appear to when they arrive, but they learn pretty fast how nice it is.”
“That’s my favorite part of the rescue process.”
“What is?”
“When they give in,” I say quietly. “When you watch that light appear in their eyes when they see you. The moment you become their world.”
She smiles. “Follow me.” Betty leads me to the back of the barn where a large black dog is pacing along the fence of its kennel. “That’s Rumi. He wasn’t a working dog. This guy was illegally bred and trained to hate.” Rumi stops pacing and lowers his head, his lip curling defensively, one yellow and one pale blue eye glued to mine.
“Wolf?” I ask, unable to look away.
“Half.”
“What’s the other half?” I’d guess he was a full wolf by the look of him.
“Not sure. Husky is my best guess with that eye color. I’ve thought about doing the DNA thing but.” She shrugs. “Maybe one day when I can get close to him without tranquing him.”
“Why’s he back here alone?”
“The other dogs act differently if he’s around. More skittish, occasionally more aggressive. I’m at a bit of a loss with him, if I’m being honest. None of this feels fair. Not to him, the other dogs, or me quite frankly.”
“What about a wolf sanctuary?” I suggest hopefully.
“There is one in Québec that’s considering it. But he’s been rejected by two in Ontario and one in Alberta, so I’m trying to manage my expectations.”
“I’ll let Bennett know. Maybe he can put in a call.”
“He has pull with the conservation people?” Betty asks skeptically. “Does he have friends in the government?”
“No, not that I know of,” I say. “But he does have a lot of money.” Bennett isn’t flashy with his money, but I doubt he’d think twice in a case like this to let it do some talking for him.
“Well, I won’t say no. Now, let’s go chat about how you and your Mr. Moneybags can help out these dogs.”
As we approach the house, I see George sitting beside a man who, at first glance, looks a little tired but the closer I get I can see the telltale signs of facial paralysis. The way his eye droops just so, as if weighed down at the corner and his mouth is pulled back in a half grimace. Despite his condition, however, it’s clear the man, I assume is Joshua, is smiling at me, or more specifically, his wife.
Betty walks over to her husband immediately and drops a kiss on his head before introducing me. “My love, this is Teddy. He’s going to help us find Rumi a home.”
“Well, it’s about time,” Joshua says slowly, each word taking more effort than it likely would have before his stroke. I want to tell Betty to bottle each of those words and cherish the sound of them.
I laugh and reach out to shake his hand. I know my mom hated when people avoided doing normal societal shit with her because people assumed she couldn’t. She could and she did. Joshua’s mouth tips up on one side, and the smile shines through in his eyes. “I’ve heard we have you to thank for half the dogs down there.” I gesture behind myself.
“All she had to say was no.” He looks over to his wife, and I watch Betty shrug.
“I wouldn’t be surprised if Betty put a call out for people to bring their dogs to Joshua. She once brought home a bear cub, calling it a puppy.” George laughs.
“The look on my mother’s face.” Betty cackles. “I did learn my lesson, though. I didn’t bring home any more animals that could end me with a swipe of their paw.”
“Just every other one,” Joshua teases, joining in the laughter.
“Someone’s gotta,” she defends.
“No one’s gotta. Sometimes you’ve just gotta let nature be nature,” George says sternly. “You’ve got a bleedin’ heart, that’s your problem.”
“Not a problem,” Joshua murmurs, reaching over and taking Betty’s hand. I feel the emotion rising quickly and have to look away, blinking hot, unwanted tears from my eyes.
“Okay, that’s enough. Teddy and I have some business to attend to. You two behave.” She stands and guides me into the house.
There’s a wheelchair set to the side just in the entryway, and the hallway is clear of all obstacles. The patches of darker wood on the floor revealing where furniture may have once sat. A house amended to better serve its occupants. A house that feels far more like a home than any I’ve been in since Mom.