A New Leash on Life Read Free Page B

called me and said the storm had slammed through his bay window. The storm is only a category two for them.”
    “No need to panic,” I said to him.
    “Right,” he said. His face turned white and he looked about ready to throw up.
    Trevor, eager with a boyish, gingery grin, always looked out for me. Once he even passed up a spring break trip to Cozumel because three of the volunteers stopped coming suddenly. He loved the dogs and couldn’t bear to think of them cooped up without proper exercise and socialization. So, he canceled his trip and waited to go until I had secured and trained more volunteers. He actually made out in that deal, because on that very trip he met his boyfriend, Michael. They had signed up for the same booze cruise and hit it off so instantly that Michael moved up from Florida the very next month.
    “Let’s try to get in all the walks first, and then we’ll secure the windows.”
    “Right, boss,” he said. “I’ll take the big guy here.” He referred to Max, our resident Rottweiler who would rather cuddle up to one of us than eat. Anyone who wanted a hundred-pound laptop would be thrilled to be his companion. Unfortunately, no one had come through the shelter seeking such love in the two months that Max had been abandoned at the shelter’s front door. Typical cowardly drop-off method. Of course Natalie often argued that this method trumped ditching the poor, defenseless animals on the side of the interstate. Natalie, my exuberant and upbeat assistant, always pointed out the bright side of any dirty coin. She could make trash look good by citing the value in composting. She could bring out the beauty in a dishrag by remarking on the brainpower it required to build a machine brilliant enough to manufacture it. Natalie, different in a theatrical way, could drive a person crazy after a small fraction of time. Her voice climbed just as high as any gifted soprano when greeting visitors to the shelter or perking up a depressed pet. Her bouncy spirit could get under my skin, but she livened up the shelter to a level more akin to a newborn nursery than to the place families came to dump off their pets.
    “Olivia,” Natalie said. “I don’t think Snowball is going to make it out for a walk today.” She looped a leash around her shoulders and headed over to Snowball’s kennel. “She’s been throwing up all morning and is looking like she lost her best friend.”
    “She didn’t eat today,” Trevor added. “She wouldn’t even look at the treats, either.”
    Snowball had arrived at the shelter in a wire crate a few days ago. Someone had dropped her off outside the door with a note saying she had grown too large. Indicated by her matted white fur, earfuls of mites, and half-inch too long nails, the poor girl had been neglected for far too long. I named her Snowball because I couldn’t bear to call her by the ill-conceived name referenced on the note. What sane person would ever imagine that a purebred Siberian husky would ever remain small enough to be called Tiny?
    “Maybe the pig’s ear I fed her isn’t agreeing with her,” Natalie said.
    “You brought in pig’s ears again?” I asked.
    “They love them.” Natalie’s voice morphed into its unnatural, animated tone.
    I stopped in front of Snowball’s kennel, and she didn’t jump to her feet to greet me. Instead, her eyes crawled up to meet mine, and then lowered again. Tears stained the fur beneath her eyes a dark brown. The three of us stood in silence watching her. “Maybe she senses the storm,” Trevor said.
    I’d seen too many cases like Snowball’s in my time working at Shubert’s Animal Hospital to understand that the poor little girl sensed little at the moment. “We need to get her into the isolation kennel.”
    Natalie looked about ready to burst into tears. Trevor sighed, wiping his strained eyes with the back of his hands. “I’ll get her kennel ready,” Natalie said before heading off to the lonely kennel