Second Chance. Elizabeth Wrenn

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СКАЧАТЬ but immediately headed back through the crowd, the woman linking arms with her husband and stroking the puppy’s head.

      Amaranth? What a name for a little pup. Or even a dog. I knew the puppies arrived with names and the names must be honored, but … Amaranth?

      ‘Marris?’ This time she stood on the step holding a German shepherd puppy that appeared to be two-thirds ears. ‘He looks like a little donkey,’ I whispered to Bill, and we both laughed quietly. The pup gazed at the crowd, more than a little fear evident in his sweet, brown eyes. No one was stepping up to claim him, and I felt myself leaning forward, wanting to gather him up in my arms and reassure him.

      ‘Marris?’ Josie repeated, even louder.

      ‘Oh! Golly! That’s me!’ said Bill, lightly touching his forehead and striding to the front. He called to Josie, ‘I’m picking up the pup for Jeannie Marris. She’s at her niece’s wedding this weekend.’

      ‘Hey, Bill! How are ya?’ said Josie. ‘Say hey to Jeannie for me. This is Donald.’

      I lifted my purse in front of my face and giggled into the leather wall. Donald. Donnie. It just sounded too much like donkey. But once that shepherd grew, I figured no one would laugh at his name. Or his ears.

      I looked over my shoulder. Still no sign of Matt and Lainey.

      ‘Munger?’

      My heart banged into my sternum. I spun back around. Bill was working his way through the crowd, grinning at me. Josie was standing on the step, searching the crowd. In her arms was a perfect, petite yellow Lab pup, her soft eyes barely open in the bright sun, the tip of her tiny perfect tail poking out from under Josie’s elbow.

      ‘Munger! Listen up, people!’

      ‘Me! Here!’ I called, raising my huge purse above my head. I quickly pulled it back down, feeling the red fill my face. This is not an auction, Deena! I slung my purse back over my shoulder and worked my way through the smiling, parting crowd.

      I stood in front of her, my heart still pounding, but at the same time some sort of rigor mortis setting up in me. Josie slipped the warm ball into my stiff but cradling arms. ‘This is Heloise. Here’s your packet.’ She tucked it firmly under my arm, and I struggled to hold puppy, purse, and packet.

      Time stopped as I gazed into the puppy’s shining brown eyes. Her tan eyebrows lifted, her small forehead wrinkling skin that was at least a size too big for her face. Her perfect triangular ears lifted too as she gazed up at me. Her eyes were rimmed in thick black – like puppy eyeliner. I put my cheek against her head, so soft and warm. She licked my chin eagerly, her sweet puppy breath filling my senses. If this were a movie, I thought, this is where everything would go into slow motion and a symphony would swell and crescendo. Then the camera would pull in tight on my face, then tight on—

      Werrrrittt! The needle pulled across the record in my mind.

      Did she say Heloise? I looked at the writing on the top of my packet protruding from under my arm. Munger/Heloise.

      That was a name for a Holstein, not a dog. I’m goin’ out to milk Heloise, Pa!

      ‘Step back, please,’ said Josie firmly, but not unkindly. She smiled at what must have been a slightly stupefied expression on my face. I turned and merged back into the crowd. I searched for Bill, and found him leaning against his car. And hurrying across the street were Matt and Lainey, each with a cup of cocoa in one hand and a magazine in the other. The packet was slipping out from under my arm. Despite the temperature, sweat was running into my eyes.

      I started walking across the large parking lot to meet the kids halfway, but turned, instead walking in Bill’s direction. I glanced back; the kids looked momentarily stunned, then they too veered toward Bill’s car.

      He was smiling at me. I could feel an absurdly large grin on my own face. Bill was holding Donald in the crook of one arm, rubbing a knuckle behind one of his huge ears. I deeply inhaled and exhaled, again not realizing I’d been holding my breath. If I was going to succeed at this, or even survive it, I’d better learn to breathe. I looked at my furry baby, held securely in my down coat arms, lowered my face to hers, and again breathed in her sweet puppy scent. Heloise. Now that I thought about it, it was a lovely name.

      ‘Mom! Why didn’t you come get us?’ Lainey demanded, breaking into my puppy reverie.

      I saw Bill study her, then glance at me.

      ‘Well, honey, they called my name. Look, this is Heloise.’ I pronounced the name carefully, Hell-oh-wheeze.

      ‘Heloise? That’s a weird name for a dog!’ said Lainey, sticking her comic book under her arm and scratching Heloise behind the ear. Heloise immediately mouthed her finger, and she laughed. ‘She’s cute! Can we call her Harmony?’

      ‘Don’t let her mouth your finger like that, okay, sweetheart?’ Bill said pleasantly.

      Lainey looked taken aback but didn’t move her finger. ‘It doesn’t hurt.’

      ‘That’s not the point,’ said Bill, gently pulling her arm away from me and Heloise. ‘These pups need to learn right from the start not to be mouthy with people.’

      Lainey looked sideways at Matt, but said nothing more.

      Bill turned to me. ‘Do you want to head home or stay? They’ve started the recalls.’ He nodded toward the truck.

      I watched, transfixed, as the acned teen again knelt by his dog, now next to the truck. Josie waited quietly nearby, no longer in a hurry, giving them time. The boy grasped his dog’s head and shoulders in a last tremulous embrace.

      ‘Let’s go,’ I said, the tears welling in my eyes.

      We gave the puppies a chance to pee, which they both took advantage of. Bill opened the back of his ancient station wagon, revealing two small crates for the dogs. The crates were on top of a platform box, built onto the floor of the back of his wagon. He lifted a thin, hinged door and stowed the leashes and paperwork inside. Matt and Lainey climbed into the backseat and traded magazines.

      Bill tucked Donald expertly into one small crate, looked at me expectantly, then to the other crate.

      ‘Do I have to put her in there?’ I asked, clutching her to my breast. Bill nodded. I somewhat clumsily set the squirming Heloise into the crate. Bill quickly latched it before she could get her gangly feet under her and sprint out. She immediately started whining. I looked at Bill, my lower lip out. This time Bill shook his head, smiling.

      ‘Nope. She’s safer back here.’ He turned both crates around, so we’d be able to see the dogs through the silver bars of their little prisons on the trip home. ‘Okey-doke, troopers,’ he said, closing the wagon door on Heloise’s whimpering.

      We pulled out onto the street, and when Bill shifted into second, Heloise geared right up, too, adding sorrowful little yips to her whines. I’d read in a women’s magazine about results from a study that showed that a baby crying in a public place would raise the blood pressure of nearly all women within earshot, but if the woman was a mother, her pressure soared. Evidently my maternal instincts covered even young canines. The need to rescue surged in my bloodstream. I thought of the teen boy, wondering if he’d finished his good-bye to his dog yet. Wondering what СКАЧАТЬ