Animal Angel

A loud crash from outside brought Mavis's attention away from the adoption application she was reviewing. The springs on the office chair creaked as she leaned back, craning her neck to see around the reception counter. The trashcans slammed against the front of the building. She jumped, tossing her pen in the air. The back of her chair over tilted. Her arms flung wide to regain her balance, and her neck jarred as the chair slammed into the upright position. On the other side of the closed door, a deep voice was letting loose with a stream of muffled expletives.

“Good night,” Stella said as she breezed through the door separating the dog kennels from the adoption reception area. The overhead lights danced in the gray highlights of her otherwise black hair. “I was out with the dogs for playtime and could hear the commotion from the other side of the building. What in the world?”

“I have no idea,” Mavis said, groaning as she bent over to pick up her pen. She tossed it onto the desk before walking around to join Stella in front of the raised counter. The voice was loud enough to carry a few choice words into the reception area, and the dialect became clearer the closer it came to the front door.

“What do you think that word means?” Stella asked, catching the end word of the man's rant.

“New one to me. I'll do an Internet search later.” Mavis sighed as she started for the door to end their curiosity.

It flew open, and she stumbled backward when a man tumbled onto the floor, engaging in what looked like a tug of war with a dog. His sports jacket hung amiss, covered in what she hoped was mud, and his khaki slacks were a wrinkled mess. The man was spread-eagled on the floor and still managed to have a quality that made her want to study his features. Mavis admired his deep chestnut-colored hair, cut in a kempt crew style, and the way it framed his perfectly chiseled, square jawline.

Mavis and Stella stood frozen in bemusement at the scene unfolding before their eyes.

“Well, you don't have that fall at your feet often,” Stella said in a hushed voice.

Mavis glanced at her, speechless, not sure if she should thank the Lord for answering her prayers by dropping this near-perfect physical specimen at her feet, or repent for whatever sin she'd committed to earn this punishment after vowing to lead a solitary life.

“Miserable mutt,” he mumbled, struggling with the catchpole around what appeared to be an immensely unhappy brindle colored pit bull's neck. Scrambling to his feet, he tried to drag the dog the rest of the way through the doorway. The dog bolted forward, knocking him backward onto his butt, and raced past him farther into the room.

Mavis gagged and covered her nose with her sleeve as the smell of rotting flesh and sewer permeated the room.

The man reinforced his handhold. The dog yanked, and the guy fell headlong back to the tile floor, the forward momentum of the dog sending the man sliding on his stomach another three feet across the ground before he could stop the pup.

Stella let loose something between a gasp and laughter. She smacked her hand over her open mouth, stifling the shrill sound. Mavis stared on, bewildered. Her lower jaw hung open. The sewer-taste filling her mouth made her smack her lips closed, and she resisted the urge to wipe her tongue off on her sleeve.

“Enough already,” she said, her professional composure returning. She grabbed a leash from the hook on the wall behind the reception desk. Her steps were quiet and confident as she approached the dog and ignored the man panting on the floor. Seizing the catchpole from him, she released the tension around the dog's neck.

“Stay back!” The man scurried to his feet. He bounded toward Mavis. “What are you doing? That is a vicious animal.”

Mavis narrowed her eyes, stopping him in his tracks. Their gazes met and held for a moment. Ignoring his warning, she swapped the noose of the catchpole for the leash she held. She tossed the catchpole at the feet of the man resting with his hands on his knees. His back heaved as he sucked in short bursts of air.

Tilting his head to the side, he watched Mavis stroking the dog under its chin while uttering reassuring words. “I don't know how you did that,” he said, waving his finger at the dog sitting quietly next to her. “But I needed you an hour ago.”

“Who are you?” The annoyance she injected into her tone was intended as a clear message of disapproval for the way he had manhandled the frightened animal.

“I can explain,” Stella said. “The chief called earlier. He wanted to know if our rescue would take a pit bull. He said animal control would euthanize the dog as soon as it crossed their threshold.” Her eye twitched as her lips pressed downward. “They have a strict ‘no pit bull' policy.”

“Figures,” Mavis said, scratching the dog under its chin. The dog licked her hand and leaned its weight against her right leg. Mavis stumbled sideways, grabbing the counter to stop a full tumble.

“Yeah,” the man said, finally making it to the upright position. “The chief's a real softy when it comes to dogs. On the other hand, he didn't have to bring that sewer rat in.” He scowled at the dog.

“The dog seems sweet to me.” Mavis glanced down at the dog and made a smooching noise.

“You should have seen her earlier.”

Mavis had nothing further to say to the man that had terrified the innocent animal. She spun on her heel and stormed into an exam room. When she heard footsteps from behind, her eyes narrowed. She squatted down and lifted the dog, depositing it on top of the sterile exam table. She glanced over her shoulder at the man filling the doorway. “What's your name?”

“Weston,” the man said, straightening his jacket and brushing at the brownish smudges covering his crisp, white button-down shirt. He shook his head and sighed as he yanked off his tie, shoved it in his jacket pocket and unbuttoned his top button.

The overhead light glinted off a badge, and she caught a glimpse of his shoulder holster. Wearing plain clothes as he was, he probably wasn't a patrol officer, then. “Detective, I assume,” she said.

“That's correct.”

Stella pushed the door open and stuck her head into the room, her pixie cut bouncing in place as she fanned the air with her hand. Pinching her nose, she asked, “Need anything?” She turned her head toward the fresh air.

“Can you get the paperwork started for Detective…?” Mavis's gaze shifted his way.

“Speier.”

“For Detective Speier. I'm sure he'll need a copy.”

Stella leaned back into the room and nodded at Mavis. She opened her mouth to speak, and only a grunt came out before her five-foot-eight body convulsed as she dry heaved. Smacking her hand across her mouth, she made a hasty exit.

Mavis and Detective Speier flinched at the
wham
from the closing door.

“Sorry.” The muffled apology faded, leaving Mavis uncomfortably alone with Detective Speier.

Mavis could feel his eyes on her as she continued her examination, but she ignored him and focused on the dog. Speaking softly she soothed the pup as she pulled a syringe from the drawer and attached a needle. Then, locating a vein on its front leg, she drew some blood. Turning toward the counter right next to her, she placed a drop on a slide and studied it longer than necessary, distracted by the detectives presence filling the small room. She lifted her eyes from the lens and blinked, trying to focus on what she was doing.
Why won't he leave?
Her skin pricked sensing the intensity radiating from his person. The tick from the clock on the back wall was deafening.

“Is something wrong?”

She jumped and glanced up over the microscope, studying the tile wall it faced. Letting out a cleansing breath, she turned her head back to the door Detective Speier was leaning against. “No, I'm checking her for heartworms. Amazingly I don't see any, but I will have to do an antigen test to confirm.” She removed the slide and tossed it in the hazardous waste bin.

“Are they common?”

“This southern climate is a breeding ground for mosquitos, which carry the disease, so yes they're common. The sad thing is a simple pill each month would help prevent transmission, but an owner capable of bestowing the kind of blatant neglect on their own pet that would lead to this kind of malnourishment not to mention over all deplorable body condition is not an owner who would put out the ten dollars a month needed to keep the animal on prophylactic treatment. So, the long and short of it is — she's lucky.”

“How do you know it's a female?”

She skewed up her face and began stroking the dog resting quietly on the exam table. “You've never had a dog.”

“How did you know?”

“It doesn't take a genius to figure out if it's male or female. Pretty obvious.”

“Oh.” He shrugged. “Are you a veterinarian?”

“No.” She blew out her breath. She didn't want to share she'd been well into veterinary school when her scholarship had fallen through and she'd had to drop out due to not having the personal finances to finish. Instead she had utilized her Associates of Applied Science and completed her national and state boards earning her certification in Veterinary Technology.

“Well, you're great with dogs.” He leaned against the wall, studying her as she listened to the dog's heart and lungs — although the only sound she could hear in the stethoscope was the thud of her own heartbeat.
I'm going to have to examine this dog all over again once I get this man out of my exam room
.

His eyes honed in on every move she made. She had the sensation of being dissected, and a quiver coursed through her from head to toe. Times like this, she wished the room wasn't such a cozy size.

“Can you open the door and that window over there?” she said, pointing over her shoulder to the opposing wall containing the only window in the room. She could feel her cheeks flush under his scrutiny and wanted… no,
needed
a distraction.

“She stinks, huh?”

“The dog wasn't the problem,” she said without looking up from the five-way vaccination she'd removed from the small refrigerator. She drew up the diluent and injected it into the powdered vaccine to reconstitute, and shook before drawing it back into the syringe.

He sniffed at his jacket and took it off.

Well, that made things worse. Since the veterinary supplies were kept in the exam room, she had no excuse to leave and put some distance between her and the detective's pheromones. Maybe she ought to try conversation.

“What's her story?” Mavis asked.

“She was tied up in front of a drug house we raided today. Guess they wanted to stave off unwanted people, and a mean-looking dog like that should do the trick.” He motioned toward the dog then pushed the window up.

Mavis finished administering the rabies and five-way vaccinations, rubbing the sites of the injections. The dog leaned away from the firm pressure of her fingertips, and she removed her hand. She then took down a tube of wormer from the overhead cabinet and squirted the paste into the dog's mouth. Since that was standard protocol for all rescues that were brought in, Mavis moved through the process with a fluid motion. She rested her hand on the quivering dog. “It's alright, baby. You're safe now.”

Her eyes narrowed and locked on the detective's. Her top and bottom teeth rubbed side-to-side. She flinched when the back molars caught the side of her tongue spreading the salty flavor from blood throughout the inside of her mouth. Her hands clenched the side of the exam table. Anger bubbled to the surface once again. Over and over, she saw people misjudging animals, and it upset her the way this detective had terrified this poor animal by manhandling her and jerking her around with a catchpole. Based on the dog's current disposition, it was obvious to Mavis that if he had approached the dog with kindness, it would have gone with him willingly. There was never any need to put her under the duress of being dragged around on a pole and yelled at. She could tell by the way the dog leaned into her and away from him that she was wary of the detective, and from what she had seen, rightfully so. Mavis always advocated for animals even if it meant stepping on someone else's toes. “You know, it's people like you that cause sweet animals like this to end up euthanized.”

“Excuse me?” he said, stepping away from the wall, squaring his broad shoulders.

Any intimidation she might have felt at his size dissipated as her anger grew. She met his stance, tilting her head back to look into his eyes, and thought she saw a flash of a grin, which added fuel to her fury. “You prejudged this animal because of her breed. Did you even see if you could put her on a normal leash before you stuck that catchpole around her neck?”

He didn't say a word.

“Exactly,” she said, nodding hard enough to cause a herniated disc. “This animal behaved the way it did because you terrified her. You're a large, daunting guy… can you blame her?” She left out handsome in a rustic,
let's go hike the hills of Vermont
way.

“I could have let animal control take her, but I didn't. I was the only one there even willing to try and get her here,” he said, taking a defensive tone. “And yeah, I admit I've heard some stories about pit bulls and that made me wary, but even so, I still tried.” He jammed his thumb into his chest, stepping closer to Mavis.

Mavis released the breath she hadn't realized she was holding and relaxed her rigid stance a little. Transfixed by his steely-blue eyes, she almost forgot her irritation.

The dog whimpered breaking the spell, and her hand instinctively began to stroke the animal. She glanced around the sterile, white-walled room, and took in the photos hanging on the walls, displaying the dogs they'd saved from being one of the millions euthanized each year and had placed in homes. Her heart swelled knowing she was saving the ones she could, and it reminded her why they had decided to open Animal Angel Rescue.