“I’m getting the whole discontentment part, but what are you trying to tell me, guy? There’s not one of you who wants to be here, and maybe you don’t know it yet, but it’s a hefty step up from where you were.” Kurt knelt to inspect the kennel as Devil released something between a sigh and a growl.
“You’re going to rip out your teeth gnawing at these bars.” Just two weeks into the rehab, and it was Devil’s second kennel. The first one had only lasted three days. He’d gotten out of it right at dawn, as Kurt was waking up. He’d heard the giant paws scratching against wood and had rushed downstairs to find Devil trying to get out the front door. When Kurt approached, the giant dog had run into one of the front rooms and begun pouncing and snarling at the dogs in the crates. The resulting commotion was louder than the roar of a jet engine.
Kurt opened the crate and clipped a leash to Devil’s collar. Rather than taking him to the backyard, Kurt headed out front, doing his absolute best to make it apparent they were going out the front door because Kurt was allowing it and not because Devil wanted it so badly.
Judging by the minimal scarring on Devil’s legs—legs were what would take the brunt of the damage on a dog his size—it was unlikely he’d been fighting for a long time. He’d been microchipped at birth, but the chip had never been registered. It traced back to a veterinarian who had stopped treating him just before he turned one when his owner moved out of the area. According to Rob, who’d talked to the vet, the owner’s contact information was no longer valid, and it was against policy to release his name.
Devil overmarked on a popular tree trunk and, after accepting that Kurt wasn’t going to give in to being pulled down the dark, quiet road, headed up to the porch. He took Kurt by surprise by stretching out on the ground next to the door and letting out a contented sigh.
“I can’t let you sleep out here, guy. You might chew through your kennel again. We can’t have you escaping mid-rehab and giving those protesters something real to complain about.”
Kurt blinked in surprise when it hit him what he could do for the dog. Why hadn’t he thought of it sooner? With so much German shepherd in him, Devil was a natural guard dog. Having a good view out one of the big front windows might help him feel at ease. They’d been keeping him in the side parlor with only one window, and a small one at that.
It took a bit of finagling, but in a matter of minutes, Kurt rearranged kennels so that Devil could spend his kenneled time looking outside. Once he had the massive dog settled, he’d swear Devil gave him a gentle look of gratitude. It was also the easiest time he’d had getting the dog back into the crate all week.
“Night, guy.” Kurt headed upstairs with a smile on his face.
Pepper was in her room, napping in her kennel even though the door was open. Hearing him, she rolled over to attention, then clambered out. Kurt hopped over the stair gate and joined her halfway across the room. He sank into a squat after she greeted him calmly. He ran his hand along her back and down her side. When her only response was to wag her nubbin of a tail, he ran his hand along her belly. Her stomach was fat and swollen, and it didn’t take much work to feel the bumps from some of the growing pups underneath.
Whatever extra chaos the arrival of the puppies might end up creating, Kurt was glad Kelsey had pushed to keep her. Pepper was a remarkable dog, and he suspected her pups would bring even more good publicity their way.
After a few minutes with her, he headed into Frankie’s room. This week, Frankie had proven to be obedient and calm and eager to follow Kurt’s commands. Unlike Pepper, Frankie hadn’t gone back into an open kennel to sleep. Instead, once he’d shown a tolerance for Mr. Longtail and earned freedom within his room, Frankie had sprawled on the floor to nap, usually near the stair gate and door with a tennis ball or two within easy reach. He was the calmest and most content when he was near Kurt, Kelsey, or one of the volunteers.
“How you doing, old boy?”
Frankie wagged his tail enthusiastically and began to lick Kurt’s hand. Frankie’s stitches had come out yesterday. Now that the brief swelling from their removal had dissipated, he looked better than ever. The fact that Frankie would forever wear a partial wink and a lopsided grin would likely be something the slew of people wanting to adopt him would find endearing. The top half of his torso would be pocked with small scars as well.
“You want to know a secret?” Kurt asked, rubbing Frankie’s chest. “I don’t think Kelsey gets that Rob’s guys called you Frankie because it’s short for Frankenstein. So, I’m thinking we don’t tell her. Frankie fits, however it came to be.”
Frankie shoved past Kurt’s hand to lick his chin. Telling himself it was a part of Frankie’s training, and not because he needed it as much as Frankie did, Kurt picked up the blankets that comprised Frankie’s makeshift bed and carried them to his room. Frankie followed at his heels and Kurt refolded the blankets, placing them on the floor beside his bed.
“Frankie, lie down,” Kurt said, kneeling to give
