He wasn't being impulsive, he's wanted one since he was three years old. The cashier asks him as she enters her data, if the puppy is for his kids, and the reply comes too quick, too rushed; no. He tries to retain a neutral tone as he answers. He can feel the sympathetic look creeping up his back as he gets his change back. He knows it comes from none other than the store's owner, Mr. Harrison. The two becoming friendly over the years as Noah likes to frequently stop by to check out the different pets, never really able to purchase anything besides two beta fish that didn't last the weekend.
Turning towards the fenced in puppies, Noah's shoes catch on the sticky substance on the titled floor. Perhaps some apple juice split from a child's cup as they wandered from their parent at the desk to the glass wall of hamsters and rats, he can only imagine the dirt his shoes are now collecting. His shoes make the sound of a sticker being pulled off paper with every step, the sound grating on his nerves even as he bends in front of the puppies and they scamper to his side, looking adorably confused as they meet the fence before they can get to the strange man. The shop assistant shambles over with no amount of hurry, Noah can see Mr. Harrison casting looks his way, his face pinched and undecided. Noah silent wills for the assistant to get there quicker. He just wants to get his puppy and go.
The smell of nicotine that slips in with the opening of the front door has Noah covering his nose, he misses immediately grabbing his puppy and leaving by 0.00001 seconds. Enough time that Mr. Harrison swoops in and places his thickly veined hand on Noah's shoulder. He shrinks from the other man's grasp, his hands tighten on the brand new dog leash in his hand. "Did she really leave?" Mr. Harrison rasps. His tone isn't unkind but Noah can feel the way his own body stance goes from tense to defensive. He takes the puppy from the assistant's hands without the gentleness that he might display any other day and leaves the store with the little tinkle of the shop's bell.
He is nearly a block and a half away when he resisters the puppy's distress noises, he comes to a stop and looks at the face staring back. His heartbeat begins to slow as he takes in the details. The puppy seems to actually be a bit older than he'd been looking for and is all mutt. He can't distinguish one feature as belonging to any one type of dog. Maybe that's just fine though, leaves out any bias he might have had in choosing. As the two of them calm, he digs through the bag of stuff he got for the collar, slipping it over the puppy's head when his fingers catch on it. One of the puppy's ears is upright and pronounced, the other flipped so that the inside is clearly visible and its eyes are narrowed as Noah's hands again brush against its throat but it doesn't try biting him or anything, so next he hooks the leash on and sets it down. Noah waits while it gets use to the combined weight of the collar and leash before gently tugging on his end, urging the puppy closer to him. The puppy looks up at him with reasonable confusion. They make it a couple of steps at a time, with the puppy becoming more indignant with each try.
When they reach a crosswalk. It's not busy, a lone car at it's intersection, but the nervous energy bottled up in Noah commands him to walk fast. The thought of the puppy on the other end of his leash all but forgotten as he darts until there's a sharp tug one-fourth of the way across. He glances back to see the puppy, no bigger than seventeen inches, growling at the big orange hummer stopping for the light. "Uh, puppy?" The dog doesn't react to his words or the light tugging of the leash. As he looks from the puppy to the crosswalk light he can see the seconds counting down in the single digits, logically he knows its unlikely that the driver is going to run over his dog, but he can feel their eyes on him as he tugs with just a bit more force on the leash, can feel their judging nature as perspiration gathers in his palms. He scoops the puppy up, listening to its light growling even as he briskly moves to the other side of the walk. From there he takes the shortest route home and vows to work on giving the puppy a name before bedtime.
YOU ARE READING
Offleash
General Fiction**Cover by Natasha** It's a story about two men in their late twenties and mid thirties who meet at a park; one who has cancer, is going through some marijuana testing (for pain and reducing nausea due to chemotherapy), and trying to help his mom h...
