Page 43 of Somewhere Without You
I smiled. PeoplehadcalledGran a lot of things over the years, but‘badass’wasdefinitelya first.
“You’re not from around here, are you?”I teased as we approached a gray steel door.
“What gave it away?”Dani laughed, shoving her weight against the door.
The moment it swung open, the barking and howling amplified. I clapped my hands over my ears as Dani pulled the door shut. Stretched out before us,wasa long, narrow corridor. Dozens of kennels lined the walls, each holding one or two dogs.
“How many do you have?”I shouted over the noise.
“Right now we have forty-eight.Butour max is supposed to be forty, so we’vehadto double up,”Dani called back.
I crouched in front of a kennel where a small rat terrier bouncedeagerlyagainst the gate, his muddy brown eyes pleading for attention. I reached through the bars to scratch his head.
“What happens when you run out of room?”I asked, my heart breaking a little as Ilookedaround at all the hopeful faces.
Dani crouched beside me, stroking the terrier behind his ear.“We used to euthanize them,”she admittedsadly.“Thatwasbefore I got here. It took a lot of fighting with the county and a lot of changes, but we’re a no-kill shelter now.”She offered me a small, tired smile.“Honestly, I wonder how muchlongerwe can keep itthatway. People are dumping them faster than I can find homes.”Her voicewasheavy.“We spay and neuter every animalthatcomes through, and I’ve got fosters from out of state who help when they can.Butit’sjustme here, andthere’s only so much I can do.”She stood and wiped her hands on the faded denim of her overalls.
I gave the little dog one last scratch under his chin before rising to join her.“Andif you can’t find homes for them?”I asked.“What happensthen?”
Dani shrugged, her expression tight.“The county will pull their support, and I’ll be forced to start euthanizing again.”Her voice cracked, and for a second, shelookedas worn down as the shelter.“I wish people would stop getting animals they can’t afford or care for.Butpeople are selfish, andthere’s nothing I can do to fixthat.”The barking around us softened, as if the dogscouldsense their potential fate.“Speaking of which,”Dani continued.“I assume you’ve got abigyard?”
“There’s plenty of space,”I nodded.“To be honest, it’s been a long time since I’vehada pet. Wehada cat when Iwaslittle, but Ibarelyremember her.” My mind wandered to Sushi, scratching at the door where Mom lay, motionless. I forced the thought away. “My grandmother said itwascruel to own another living being. She said every soul belongs to the earth—mosquitoes and spiders too.”
Dani laughed.“I don’tknowabout mosquitoes, those things are the devil.But, I admire her logic.”She smiled.“Asfor dogs, I think they own you, not the other way around. Itjustdepends on what you’re looking for.”
“I need a guard dog,”I admitted a little tooquickly.“I live alone, and the mountains can be a little overwhelming at night.”
“Makes sense. You want somethingthatmakes youfeelsafe.”She nodded toward alargeblack-and-brown shepherd sprawled in a nearby kennel.“Ruger would be perfect forthat. German Shepherd and Rottweiler mix.Seriousmuscle.Seriousbite. You can’tgetany better thanthat.”
I crouched down. “Is he. . . friendly?” I asked, a little wary.
Dani gave a half-shrug.“Depends what you mean by friendly. He’s loyal, sharp as a tack, and once he bonds with you, no one willgetwithin five feet without him ripping their face off.”
I thought of Logan, andimmediatelypulled away.“He’s impressive.ButI’m not sure I’m into the whole face-ripping off thing.”Ruger gave a soft huff and sat back on his haunches, studying me with dark, intelligent eyes.“What else do you have?”
Dani grinned.“Brutus might be more your speed. He’s a boxer-hound mix. He won’t tear anyone apart, but he’ll let youknowif someone’s creeping around who shouldn’t be.”
Thelargedog cocked his head as we approached, studying me with curious brown eyes.
“He’s cute,”I said, crouching to offer my hand for a sniff.“How longhashe been here?”
Dani tapped a finger against her lips, thinking.“About a year, give or take. His owner passed away, and none of the family wanted to take him in.”
Brutus licked his massive paw, watching me with a slobbery, lopsided grin. Drool dripped from his jowls, and my face twisted in disgust.
“Yeah. . . he doesthat,”Dani said.
I rose to my feet, disappointed.Maybegetting a dogwasn’tthe brilliant idea I thought itwas. I turned, ready to apologize for wasting her time—when Isawhim.
At the far end of the hall, tucked into a corner kennel,wasa smaller, quieter dog. His coatwasthe color of a thunderstorm, clashing against the bright blue of his soft eyes.
Dani followed my gaze.“That’s Winston.Purebred Australian Shepherd. Not much of a guard dog. He’s more of a herder,really.”
ButIwasalready kneeling, my hands reaching toward him.“What’s his story?”I asked.
Dani hesitated, chewing on her lower lip.“He came in about a month ago. Rescued from a. . . bad situation.”
I pulled my hand back, frowning.“Bad like he attacked someone or something?”
