Page 103 of Long Shot

“It’s Bev at Ventura Animal Shelter.”

“Yes, hi.” My belly tightens. I haven’t decided what to do about Jack yet. I don’t want to give him up, but taking him to L.A. to live in an apartment when I’ll be working long hours getting the new restaurant established probably isn’t the best for him. The decision is another thing I’m procrastinating on, but now Bev is calling me.

“Great news. We have someone who wants to adopt Jack!”

“Oh.” I press a hand to my stomach. “Th-that is great news. Do they want to meet him?”

“Nope. They’re willing to take him right away.”

“Oh. Okay.” Maybe Jack is going to be a Christmas present for some lucky kid.

“I can come by this afternoon and get him. Would that work for you?”

“Sure.” I start shaking inside. I look over at Jack asleep on the rug in sunlight pouring in the front window. “No problem.”

“Great! I’ll see you around one o’clock.”

I end the call and carefully set down my phone. The trembling intensifies, and my heart squeezes so hard. I stare at Jack, that pressure and stinging in my nose returning. But I can’t cry.

I rub my nose and glance around. I have to pack up his things.

This is just as well. I don’t have to make the decision, now. And it’s for the best for Jack.

Hopefully it’s a good home he’s going to. I know the shelter is diligent about screening prospective families who want to adopt dogs. I myself had to go through a screening process just to foster dogs. So I don’t need to worry about him.

My bottom lip quivers. I’m going to miss him, though. So much.

I find a reusable shopping bag and start filling it with his toys, his leash, his dishes. There’s half a bag of food left and a box of dog biscuits, so I add those, too, and the bottle of dog shampoo. I even add the old towel I use for him after his swims and baths.

I don’t tell him he’s leaving. He’ll find out soon enough.

At about twelve-thirty, I sit down on the floor beside Jack and stroke his back. He gazes up at me with his big brown eyes and I lean down to kiss him right between the eyes. Then I kiss his nose. He licks my chin.

“I love you, Jack.” I give him a shaky smile, still petting his fur. “I love you so much.”

Jack doesn’t usually put up with a lot of affection but today he stays there, letting me rub and hug him until Bev arrives.

I clip on his leash and hand over his bag of belongings. “He likes to swim,” I tell Bev. “You’ll tell his new owner that, right? He even knows how to surf. He loves it.”

Bev’s kind eyes warm. “I’ll tell them, yes. Anything else they should know about?”

“He’s a good boy.”

Bev smiles. “Yes.”

“He gets two treats at bedtime. And he needs a walk in the morning. He likes to be rubbed behind his ears, but only for a minute. Too much affection bugs him.”

I hold it together as Bev walks out with Jack. I roll my trembling lips tightly inward as I watch Jack jump into the backseat of Bev’s car, then turn around and put his paws on the door to look out the window . . . at me.

Tears stream down my face as I stare at him out the door. I wave, trying to smile for him. “Bye, Jack.”

Unable to watch anymore, I turn away, close my door, and slide down to the floor with my back against it. I rest my head on my bent knees and cry.

I haven’t cried like this. And I know it’s not just about Jack. It’s about . . . everything. The emotions I’ve held inside for too long. I tried to keep my heart guarded and tough, but somehow I’ve developed all these feelings. Joy. Friendship. Love. Love for a damn dog. My heart is so full but it’s also breaking apart because I’ve lost those things, too, things I didn’t think I wanted, didn’t think I deserved.

Now I’m really alone at Christmas.

I sit on my couch in the dark. The only light in the room is from the twinkling white lights on my little tree. I lean back, a pillow on my lap, listening to the Christmas playlist I found on Spotify.

---