Page 35 of Hate You Later
“Look, this is a premium marketing op, and if you’re too dumb to take it, I don’t know what to say. I thought the company was in better hands with you than Bryce, but maybe I better start looking for a part-time job so I can begin saving up for Yale.”
I ruffle her hair. “Let me think about it,” I say, glancing back at the shop. Getting involved with the fundraiser might make sense for the biz. But it would also give me an excuse to get to know Georgia a little better. That makes the idea more attractive. Dangerously so.
“Oliver would want you to do this, Hudson,” Lilly says. “Think of all the shelter pets who mightdieif we don’t do anything!” She pleads passionately now, saving her most compelling argument for last, like a true lawyer.
“Okay, okay. But how about we think about what flavors of ice cream we want to buy first? We don’t have to tell your mom that we skipped dinner and went straight to the sundaes, do we?”
“Absolutely not.” Lilly grins. “Now you’re speaking my language.”
georgia
The morning of thePet Friends’magazine interview arrives as gray and lackluster as a bowl of overcooked oatmeal. It’s a dismal reminder that winter is coming to the Pacific Northwest.
My car fills with fog as Cookie pants in the passenger seat and the windshield wipers quit on me. I have to roll down the windows and freeze my ass off just to see where I am going. Cookie seems amused by the idea of me hanging my head out the window and tries to make a twosome of it, climbing on my lap and pushing her head out beside mine. It’s a short distance and I take it slow, but it’s still a miracle that I don’t crash.
Outside the shop, I am greeted by a flock of cackling grackles that have congregated on the trees out front. When I look up, one of them promptly baptizes me with birdshit.
“Are you assholes kidding me?” I howl into the tree as I unlock the shop. It’s only seven, and I haven’t had my coffee yet. The interview isn’t for another hour, but I’m here early to straighten up and rehearse my speaking points.
Whoever said bird poo is good luck wasn’t wearing a dry-clean-only biker jacket. I scrape off most of the gunk with an old, plastic loyalty card and eliminate the rest with antibacterial pet wipes.
I attempt a reset. Today is going to be a good day. Celestial Pets is getting featured in a nationally syndicated pet magazine. The article is going to include a link to our website, and people are going to see the photo op wall and … Actually, I’m not exactly sure what to expect. We’ve never been profiled like this before, but I’m hopeful. It can’t hurt.
I review what I’ve been told about the journalist who’s writing the piece. Her name is Emily Romano and she’s a freelancer. She’s local to Ephron but just moved here in the last year. She doesn’t have any pets, but her neighbors adopted their bichon from Kismet. Xander is their groomer, of course.
When I talked to Emily on the phone, she’d sounded like she was around my age. She seemed friendly and let me know the visit to the shop was mostly a formality as she’d already done her research. But she wanted to meet me, ask a few questions, and see my pet clothing collection for herself before finishing the piece. Maybe shoot a few photos in addition to whatever I could send over.
Nothing to be nervous about. Nothing to lie awake half the night making mental checklists about, or anything.
I tap my studded cowboy boot against the edge of the counter. The metal makes a satisfying sound, clinking out an audible “check!” as I run down my pre-interview list:
Peppermint and Basil Air Freshener Spray … Clink!
Clothing straightened and organized by breed and collection … Clink!
Shop vacuumed and dusted … Clink!
Fact sheet printed … Clink!
I skim the one-page “About Us” sheet, skipping to the end. It’s a good reminder of why we do what we do:
Since opening our doors, Celestial Pets has supported the placement of over two thousand pets—cats, dogs, birds, bunnies, lizards, and even a few chickens—into loving homes.
At Celestial Pets, we believe that pets are more than animals who live with us. They are our soul mates. Our pet connections are “written in the stars.”
The primary focus of this article is going to be the shop’s connection to local artisans and causes. But with Halloween coming up, and a tight deadline, Emily said she also wants to be sure to feature my handmade costumes.
I deliberate a bit before finally pulling two costumes for samples. I choose a small, frothy-topped, puppuccino coffee costume, and a soft, cotton, velvet pumpkin suit sized to fit a larger dog. These are outfits I’ve made multiple copies of. I’ve been sewing much more than usual lately, both at home and in the shop, making sure the rack stays packed.
I fold the costumes into tissue paper and place them in a bag stamped with the Celestial Pets logo. I also include a few cards and brochures from our artisan vendors. Last, I pop in a small baggie full of dog treats for Emily to share with her neighbors.
Now there’s nothing left for me to do besides check my own appearance.
My simple, black-knit mini dress was thankfully spared the wrath of the grackles. It pairs well with the studded boots. For luck, I piled on a stack of my mom’s signature silver bracelets. My nails are done. My hair was flat-ironed, but the morning mist took care of that. It’s a hot, tousled mess again. I do what I can to smooth it down.
My mom’s likeness smiles down at me, silently keeping me company. I wish she was actually here right now to savor this moment. She would have loved getting press. But she isn’t here. I’m alone.
Not totally alone though. I watch Cookie, who is sprawled out behind the counter. She’s wearing the Boss Bitch T-shirt I made for her, and is happily working away at a new bone. Not a care in the world.
