BOONE - Part 1 of the HMB Doggie Series

CHAPTER 3

I’m standing at the doors of the shelter I know Boone is imprisoned in. It’s actually a very pleasant building, with bright red double doors and something akin to a garden growing in the piss-splotched lawn out front. I find it’s kept-unkemptness enchanting.

I take a deep breath and open the doors to a very charming and light reception area. The floors are linoleum and clean. The walls are a pale yellow, inducing that sense of calm that a nursery may. Pictures of smiling owners and their new companions litter the walls, unadulterated joy written on human, canine and feline faces alike. I even see a picture of a larger fellow with a Santa beard and leather jacket holding a baby bunny like he’s just won the World Cup…Now that’s freaking adorable.

I’m riveted by all the photographs. Everyone looks so happy. So content. Like somehow their lives have just been completed with a fluffy, slobbering package of fur. I can’t help but feel a tingle of jealousy. I want that. I want to feel happy and whole and complete again.

I can feel those goddamn tears wanting to break loose from their very flimsy cage, so I cough and clear my throat to try and scare them back into their place. I barely make it when a hand comes to rest on my shoulder.

I start and turn around, coming face to face with a lovely looking woman, mid forties, with a shock of black hair and the longest eyelashes I’ve ever seen in my entire life. I can’t seem to find words.

“Can I help you?” Her voice is soft and kind, not unlike the deep brown eyes that peer at me from behind those spider legs.

I clear my throat again and try to find my voice with, “Uh…uh hey there. I’m, uh, just admiring your collection of pictures.”

She smiles at me like a mother would smile at a child proudly revealing a drawn picture of a stick figure, patient and appreciative. “My name is Maureen. Can I help you?” I feel bad making her repeat herself.

“I’m…um, interested in possibly looking at some of your dogs for adoption,” I can feel the diarrhea of words wanting to spew from my mouth so I bite my tongue and desperately hold them back. I have no reason to vomit my grief all over this woman but her inviting eyes and sweet voice are just begging me to impale her with every sordid detail I’ve had to endure over the past week. The effort to hold back literally brings those goddamn tears back into the forefront. I blink rapidly and I can see her taking in the many emotions running along my face. She takes it in stride, God bless her, and reaches for my hand.

“Let me show you.”

Without another word, she leads me into the belly of the building.

I’m trafficked from corridor to corridor until she opens one final metal behemoth of door. I can hear various yips and barks. My skin prickles with goosebumps, anticipation running through my veins.

Maureen squeezes my hand and looks me straight in the eye. “You take your time, Sal.”

I stare dumbly at her as she winks at me and closes the door behind her. I didn’t tell her my name, did I?

I turn and face a huge room with chain-link cages running the length of it. It’s not as cold as I would have thought it would be but it certainly isn’t any place I would want to spend more then a few days. As if they can smell me, a chorus of barks start to echo throughout the whole room.

Feeling like I’m on autopilot, I start my walk down the first aisle of cages, stopping and looking at each individual pup. Some are older, some are younger, some are mutts and some look damn-near pure-bread. Some charge the fence and others hide back in the darkest recesses they can find, wanting nothing to do with me. Some just sit and watch me watch them, not necessarily interested but not trusting me to look away.

I feel no connection with any of them. They are adorable, don’t get me wrong, but I don’t feel any particular pull to the physical dog that I did the picture of Boone.

I’m meandering down my last row of cages when I come upon him.

Boone is sitting on his haunches, in the middle of his little cage, staring out at me like he was expecting my call. The second he sees me, his little puffy tail starts a very slow swish-swish against the concert floor.

I stop and stare. He’s more incredible then his picture could ever paint him. One ear stands tall and erect like a little soldier while the other looks like a soldier that has had one too many. His muzzle is all black and his face and body are speckled with tuffs of milk chocolate brown. I see a sliver of pink tongue peeking out between his cute little puppy lips. His hair is so puffy it looks like he stuck that very tongue in a toaster. I notice the disproportion of his large paws and ears to the smallness of his body and it makes me smile the first real smile I’ve had in a while.

I kneel down and stare into his eyes. He stares back.

We observe each other like this for probably about two minutes until I have the courage to reach my hand to the cage. If Boone makes a move to bark or snarl or cower away from me I don’t think my heart can handle it. But I’m going to try anyways because I’m weak and I can’t resist him. I slip my fingers under the cage and just let my hand rest on the cool cement floor.

Instead of barking or cowering, Boone hunkers down until his belly is touching the floor and starts to army crawl his way over to me. He comes right up to my hand and lays his head down on my fingers, sighing like he’s just found peace.

I’m shocked. Riveted. Without removing my hand I slip into a more comfortable position, Indian style, and just let him rest on my hand.

“Hi, Boone,” I say in a soft voice. At the sound of his name the drunken soldier of an ear perks up just slightly and he nuzzles my hand just a tad, as if saying, “Hi Sal. Is nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you too, Boone.” Not a split second later the decision is made. “Do you want to come home with me? I can’t guarantee I’ll know what the hell I’m doing, but I promise you I will figure it out.”

Boone is still looking me straight in the eyes, as if his little puppy mind is deciphering the words I’ve just said. He answers me with a soft lick of his tongue atop my fingers. I’m no dog whisperer but I’m guessing that’s an affirmative. And my heart implodes just a little at his gesture.

I loath the idea of walking away from him, but I need to find Maureen and tell her Boone is coming home with me.

“I’ll be right back. I promise. You’re a good little boy, Boone,” I say the words as I gently pull my hand back. He lifts his head and expels a puff of air that makes his jowls balloon out, clearly indicating that he doesn’t approve of me removing his hand pillow. But he sits back onto his haunches, like the good little boy he is.

His eyes say, “I’s be here waiting.”

I practically sprint towards the behemoth door and run the corridors back towards Maureen and her magical adoption papers. I burst into the reception area, startling the bejesus out of her but thankfully it’s just her and no other do-gooders looking to adopt. I must look crazed surging through the doors like that but I don’t care. I want Boone and I want him yesterday.

“Hi, Maureen. I’ve made a decision and I want-”

“Boone, right?” Her pretty face looks as serene as ever, but I detect a glint of mischief behind her spider-leg eyelashes.

“How did you know that?” Are there other forces at work here?

She smiles at me, showing an impressive display of white teeth. Her smile makes her face even more arresting. She nods to the wall behind me, so I turn and am taken aback by the various TV screens adorning it. They flicker from one angle to the next and in one screen I see my little Boone, sitting as I left him, patiently waiting for me.

“Oh…” I feel foolish. I don’t know why.

“He’s quite taken with you. I’ve never seen him react to someone like that. Not even myself. And I consider us buddies.” Her voice is full of laughter as she starts pulling out the required documents for me to sign, giving me Boone’s stats as she does: male, 10 weeks old, neutered…I can barely listen I’m so excited. She catches my attention with, “Let’s begin the paperwork and I’ll have you out of here in no time.”

I’m so giddy I can barely hold the pen she hands me. I cross every “T” and dot every “I” fearing that one mistake will screw up this whole process. Maureen helps me along the way when needed, but mostly she just sits there and observes my giddiness. I feel like I’m more on display then the dogs here.

Once all the paperwork is filled out I sigh with relief, not realizing how nervous I was up until now. I see Maureen’s lips quirk in a half-smile, like she’s somehow amused by my spastic-ness.

“Let’s take you back to get your boy,” she says as she winks at me one more time. I could get used to her winks. They make me feel special.

Just before we enter through the behemoth door, she grabs my arm gently and stills me.

“I just wanted to say that I think what you’re doing is very courageous. After what you’ve been through I can only hope that Boone will help heal up some of those wounds. And based on what I saw, I’d say you are in good hands, er, paws.” She doesn’t speak loudly, but her words sound huge in my ears. I can only stare at her, feeling my eyes misting and trying like hell to keep the tears back.

“You don’t need to say anything, sweetheart. I’m a big fan of your books so naturally when your name comes up I pay attention.” She bites her bottom lip, as if considering her next words. “I know you’ve probably heard this a thousand times, but I just want to say I’m so sorry for your lose. But I’m also so happy for what you are about to gain.”

With that she opens the door and we walk into the kennel. I couldn’t speak if I wanted to. All I can do is hear her words bouncing around in my head like a ping-pong ball: “I’m so happy for what you are about to gain.” Against my greatest efforts I feel a tear roll down my cheek as I smile the second genuine smile of the day.

We walk up to Boone’s cage and it’s as if he knows exactly what’s about to happen. From his aforementioned stance, his butt pops up off the ground like there’s a spring in there and starts dancing back and forth. He doesn’t bark. He doesn’t yip. But his tongue hangs out like a pink slippy-slide and his eyes dance with glee.

“You ready?” Maureen has the lock in her hand, ready to uncage my little boy to me.

“Yes,” I practically squeak.

She opens the door and Boone bounds over to me like a train. Still, he doesn’t bark or even whimper. He just smiles as he charges into my outstretched arms and starts enthusiastically licking my face. I half sob, half laugh. I bury my face in his soft fur and inhale deeply. I think I may have found my savior.

~~~

Thank God Maureen gave me a leash because I don’t have anything for my little Boone other then a lap to sit on, which he does quite well as we get in my Explorer to drive off to adventures unknown. Actually that’s not quite accurate. We’re driving to the pet store because I need a ton of puppy necessities.

The day is sunny and crisp, perfect Fall weather. I roll down the window so Boone can feel the breeze of his newfound freedom. His nose is in the air and he’s sniffing like crazy, with an occasional kiss to my hand that just won’t stop petting him. His coat feels like silk between my fingers and luxuriating it is nothing short of divine. He’ll periodically look up at me with ecstatic eyes, saying, “I’s can’t believe! So exciting! I love you!” Perhaps I’m just reaching but those are the words that I hear him saying to me.

Living in the small town of Half Moon Bay, California I know for a fact that we only have one pet store and from what I can gather, like every other store here on the coast, it’s overpriced. But I want to get back and get Boone accustomed to his new home. We drive back over the hill from San Mateo, and the crisp, sunny air turns into a mountain of fog the second I crest over Highway 92. It’s to be expected. Over the past week this weather actually suited me fine, but now with Boone perched happily in my lap, I feel I could use a little more sunshine.

The blessing and bitch about living in a small town is that, irregardless of whether you want it, everyone knows your business. Word of Eric’s death spread faster then a wildfire and I can only assume that once I roll into town with a new German Shepherd puppy, tongues are going to start wagging about how “Sal has truly lost it now.” Getting a puppy only a week after your soulmate dies is bound to raise a few eyebrows, but I don’t mind. I’m a writer. I don’t have to leave the house ever if I don’t want to.

The smell of the coastal air seems to infuse Boone’s excitement because his drunken ear is at attention and his little nose is twitching. He looks at me saying, “What is I’s smelling?!”

“That’s the ocean, Boone. The ocean. It’s big and wet and exciting!” I make my voice high and animated and it has the desired effect of making him smile even bigger.

We pull through town and I park in front of the pet store. I make a point to put on my sunglasses and grab a cap from the backseat before exiting my safe haven of a car, because really, I don’t want attention. I just want to get my shit and go home.

Boone is all about exploring this new terrain and I gently have to coax him to follow me, which he does with ease. What a good dog.

We enter the store and thankfully, since it’s the middle of the day on a Monday, it’s empty. The storekeeper, who I don’t know (another thankfully) gushes over how cute my little Boone is and offers much needed assistance as to what I need. It doesn’t take long before my mind starts to reel at the sheer quantity of everything necessary for a dog. And because Boone needs the best, I get top quality everything. I can feel my wallet starting to sweat and my frequent-flier miles starting to sing.

At the end of our little shopping spree, I’m loaded down with a bed, crate, toys, food, collars, leashes, treats, bowls and some sort of bone thingy that’s supposed to act like a toothbrush. I’m even given the name of the best vet in town should anything ever come up. Luckily, the shelter already had his shots taken care of and miraculously potty trained him, to which the shopkeeper Lisa was quite impressed. My chest involuntarily puffs up at her praise even though I literally had nothing to do with it.

Lisa helps load up my car while Boone watches intently from the front seat.

“Thank you so much for all your help,” I say as I shake her hand.

“Of course! Feel free to bring him by anytime you want. He sure is a well-behaved little guy.”

I smile and wave as I get in my car, chest puffed once more and Boone is instantly back in his now designated spot…my lap. I roll down the window for him and then we are off.

~~~

Watching Boone enter the house is like watching a sultan enter his palace. He takes special care to sniff every nook and every corner of every room. I follow him around like a loyal puppy (ironic?) with a cheek-splitting grin on my face.

I’m grinning because the second I opened the door all I could heard was the click-click-click of Boone’s little paws as he trotted along the hardwood floors. The house wasn’t this silent sleeping monster waiting to wake and swallow me whole.

The downstairs of our my house consists of the entryway, living room, dining room, kitchen, a guest bathroom and bedroom. It also has a sunroom that I use as my office space. I found the numerous windows and copious amounts of light inspiring for new novels…not so much recently. Boone takes great interest in every room, making sure he rubs his nose on every piece of furniture and leaves no corner un-sniffed.

The upstairs houses the master suite, another guest room, a bathroom, and Eric’s office. I shut his office door the day the hospital called me and I haven’t had the strength to go in there since. So of course Boone would save this door for last. His little nose works the bottom of the door and then he plunks his butt down and stares up at me expectantly, saying, “What we waiting for?”

I kneel down next to him and start scratching him behind the ears, to which he greatly appreciates, and I say, “I’m sorry, Boone. We can’t go in there. At least not yet.”

His drunk ear falls slightly and he tilts his head at me. “Why not?”

What would appear to be my second-in-command, The Lump In My Throat, forms and I squeak out, “This is Eric’s office. I just don’t have the strength to see it yet.”

“You going to see it eventually.”

“Yeah…yeah, I know.”

“But I’s get it. I’s can wait.” He then gives my hand a small lick and starts making his way back downstairs.

Did that really just happen?