But I'm Not Supposed To Be a Dog!

- 1 -

What am I doing here? Abby gripped the steering wheel as if she could absorb answers through it. She must have been sitting in her car for at least ten minutes, debating with herself. She found herself sweating, but it might have been because all the windows were shut, and the sun was climbing higher into the clear sky.

She rolled the windows down and closed her eyes as the gentle breeze riffled through her shortish hair. Riding the wind like discordant cowboys, a cacophony of barking sounds from the dog shelter assaulted her ears. Maybe this was a bad idea. Dogs were noisy, and she liked to do her writing in peace.

This was all Rhonda's fault. Her best friend had invited her to lunch last week, and only after she was halfway through her burger did she realize it was an intervention of sorts.

"Don't look at me like that," her friend had said. "I'm not saying you need a man. I'm saying you need a dog. You need to walk a dog, take it to the vet, play with it, take lots of pictures of it wearing funny hats... you know, get out of your boring routine."

Abby's delicate brows scrunched in thought, unsure what to make of Rhonda's suggestion. "What if I like my boring routine? There's a certain comfort in routine. Things get done."

"The same boring things get done, over and over. Abby, you aren't living. You're existing."

Abby stared into her burger, as if a snappy comeback laid somewhere between the limp pieces of lettuce. Basically Rhonda was saying she was boring, and getting a dog would make her more interesting. The thought stung. She looked back up at her friend. "You find me boring?"

Rhonda rolled her blue eyes "Of all the things to latch onto. I didn't say you were boring. I said your life was. Are you truly happy?"

"Sure I am." She didn't sound very convincing, even to herself.

Her friend lifted an eyebrow.

Abby crossed he arms. "And a dog would fix that?"

"Maybe, or maybe not. But you'd be saving a life."

Abby sighed, aware of the emotional strings her wily friend was trying to pull. Still, the statement had merit. Those ASPCA commercials with Sarah McLachlan singing her sad song with all those sad puppy eyes had a way of niggling into her subconscious.

And now here she was, sitting in the parking lot, staring at the "WHO RESCUED WHO?" paw print bumper sticker on the car in front of her. Just then, because the universe was conspiring against her, a Sarah McLachlan song began playing on the radio.

"All right! I get it!" Abby wrenched the door open and headed for the facility. She bypassed the front office in favor of going straight to where the incarcerated animals waited. She had expected to be bowled over by the smell of wet fur, dog poop, and hopelessness, but it actually wasn't bad at all. A hint of disinfectant wafted about, and everything was surprisingly clean.

In one enclosure, a huge Mastiff eagerly drooled at her arrival. In another, some kind of hound mix was barking and baying madly. Abby resisted the urge to plug her ears.

In the next row, she passed by an enclosure that had three Chihuahuas in it. They jumped, yapped, and wagged their tails. Cute, but what a noisy lot. She hadn't thought about what sized dog she wanted. These little guys seemed too small. She imagined accidentally punting the poor things across the room, or maybe even crushing it beneath her recliner when she got up. No, tiny dogs were out of the question.

What about the Cadillac-sized dog she saw when she first entered? She wouldn't be tripping over that. There could, however, be occasions where she would—instead of walking the dog—be taken for a drag around the block. She wasn't looking for that sort of hilarity in her life.

So medium size, then. Right.

As if fate had been listening to her thoughts, she came upon a strangely calm dog. It was a beautiful animal with one piercing grey eye and one warm brown one. It had fluffy, calico-like markings. Did dogs come in calico? Or was that just cats? Abby shrugged and examined the tag on the door.

AUSTRALIAN SHEPHERD MIX

"HENRY"

A red notice clipped to the tag indicated this poor creature was to be destroyed in 24 hours. Destroyed. Such a dramatic word. You destroy buildings. You destroy your enemy. But to destroy a dog? More like extinguishing a flame. Liking the elegance of the thought, she pulled out a small notebook from her back pocket and scribbled a few notes. She carried this dog-eared notebook everywhere she went because inspiration struck at random moments.

Ha, she thought absently. Dog-eared.

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NOTE: If you're unfamiliar with the ASPCA, it's a charitable organization dedicated to rescuing animals from dangerous or inhumane conditions.

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