“Oh,” Daniel says. “Um. I guess.” He’s looking down at Sully, who’s leaning on his leg and panting with a doggy smile. “He was—hit by a car?” He coughs like he’s covering a sob.
“Think so. Rescue org down there couldn’t afford all the surgery he needed, so they shipped him up here to us. We specialize in medical cases.” She reaches a long arm out and rubs Sully’s ears. “He had three surgeries and now he’s ready for his forever home. Just gotta find somebody willing to squeeze out his pee five times a day and get him a custom wheelchair. And put up with the needy little goober.”
Daniel squats and rubs Sully’s ears, his eyes moving over the rest of the dogs before stopping on the shepherd.
“What about Pearl?” I ask.
Daniel shoots me a worried look.
“Bred most of the way to death by a backyard breeder, then starved when she stopped producing. Here you go, little one. You’re okay.” Iris carefully inches closer to Pearl with Chewbarka. Chewy is calmer, as if Iris’s voice is soothing. She cautiously sticks out her head and sniffs at Pearl’s nose. Pearl wags once, then lies there looking tired.
“I know, baby girl,” Tina says, rubbing Pearl’s head. “I know. Okay. Here we go. Daniel, hang on to that dingbat’s collar, will you?” She nods at Sully.
Daniel holds Sully’s collar and Iris eases Chewbarka to the floor next to Pearl. Chewbarka glances at Pearl and then sits, looking up at Iris like she trusts her completely after knowing her for three whole minutes.
“Attagirls,” Iris says, petting both dogs at once. “There we go. Polly, cool your jets.” She directs this at the Chihuahua, who’s coughing her head off.
“Is she sick?” Mom asks.
“Owner couldn’t afford her meds, so they dumped her at the vet. Her enlarged heart presses her trachea and it makes her cough. I know,” she says to Polly. “There’s so much going on, you just gotta yell about it!” She touches Polly’s chin through the crate. “Take a drink, dingie. You’ll last longer.”
I doubt Polly speaks English, but she does what Iris says, coughs a few more times and calms. The dogs in the rest of the house are calmer now too, the barking trailed off. Sully hop-drags over to me and noses my hands so I’ll pet his ears.
I oblige, glancing at Daniel. He’s looking at Pearl and wiping his face. When Chewbarka climbs into his lap, he turns into a faucet, big hiccuping sobs choking out of him. “God, this is embarrassing,” he laugh-cries as he hugs Chewbarka with one hand and pets Pearl with the other.
“Don’t be embarrassed,” Iris says. “I’ve cried like that plenty times over these mutts. Their stories will break your heart, every time.”
“I could never be as strong as you,” he chokes. “I don’t know how you do it.”
“You are strong,” Mom tells him. “You’re here, doing this for Chewbarka.”
“Tears don’t mean you’re weak,” Iris says. “They mean you care real hard about what’s right and good. That takes balls.”
“Guts,” I say. “It takes guts. My mom has no balls and she’s a world champ at caring about right and good.”
Iris and Mom both laugh. “I stand corrected,” Iris says.
“Daniel, you’re one of the strongest people I know,” I tell him. “Everything you did for Chewbarka proves it. It’s been the opposite of easy, but you did it anyway.”
“You gotta use that passion, though,” Iris says. “Find an outlet for it. Channel it. Otherwise it’ll just tear you all up.”
“Tina said that too,” Daniel says. “You’re both right. I need to—” He hiccups again, and I love the cute little shape of it. “I need to do something with this.”
“Dogs like these need people like you,” Iris says. “You’re an old soul. Saw it soon as you came in. Old soul with a bright flame.” She smiles at him. “You’re gonna be all right, kid.”
“I hope so,” Daniel says.
“I know so,” I tell him.
30
Human Too
Daniel
I give Chewbarka a last hug. “I’ll miss you so much,” I whisper in her fuzzy ear. I can’t believe how much she’s changed my life in a week. How she’s helped me see what’s important. What matters.
“You know,” Iris says as she takes Chewbarka, “we got our Fall in Love Adoptathon coming up next weekend. We can use help getting the animals ready. Bathing ’em, cutting their nails, getting them gussied up so they can find forever homes.”
“You won’t—I mean, Chewbarka won’t be put up for adoption, will she? She has sort of a complicated backstory—”
“Nope. Tina’s gonna wait a few weeks till things cool down with that vet guy and then take her home,” Iris says. “She told me what she did with the euthanasia. She’s a fool, that woman, but I’d likely have done the same.”
“Yeah. Me too.” I scratch Chewbarka’s ears. “Um . . . Iris, would you mind if I just . . . if I snip some fur off her to keep?” It’s a weird request and I’m sure she’ll laugh or say no—
“Sure.” She pulls a bag of stuff from between two cages, roots around, and hands me a scissors. “How about some of this booty floof? She’ll never miss it.”
Ash quirks an eyebrow at me.
“For the rule-of-thirds assignment,” I tell Ash. “A lock of booty floof, and the lock from Vlad the Rapid. Two personally significant locks.”
Understanding comes over her face and she smiles. She leans down and snaps a quick photo of Chewbarka with her phone.
Iris snips fur from Chewbarka’s tail, then binds it with a rubber band and hands it to me. “Sounds like I’ll only have her for a couple weeks before Tina gets her, but come see her sometime.”
“Really?”
“Of course. This goob always likes company.” She gives Sully an affectionate nudge with her foot and he
