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“Well, I’ve seen people change their minds so often, and I hate today. I hate the thought of putting him down, but I don’t want to have this same day tomorrow when you don’t show up.” She tapped her pen.

“I won’t be here tomorrow,” Beckett confirmed. “I’m leaving tonight for good. I can’t come back. What if you mark him down as dead, and I take him out of here?” He tried to get a sense of where this dog that caused her so much angst might be. He could hear barking in the distance. The whole place seemed to have an otherworldly echo. “What name did he come in with, by the way?”

“Pussy. The previous owner had him in dogfights. But the dog was a lover not a fighter. Even when they cut off his ears, he couldn’t bring himself to fight.” She didn’t even tear up. He had to give her credit for being tough.

“I’ll get him the best vet care in the world.” Beckett realized he was making promises to this girl about a dog he’d yet to meet. But she was starting to consider illegally slipping him this dog, he could tell.

“You’d
have
to get him neutered. Overpopulation is a huge part of the reason we have overcrowding here at the shelter.”

Beckett nodded. “Sure. No problem.”

“You’re going to get his nuts removed?” She looked like she didn’t believe him.

“Oh. That’s what that means? Sure. As long as doesn’t hate me afterward.” Beckett looked over his shoulder, worried about staying in one place too long.

“If I find out you put this dog in fights, I will actually neuter
you
. And I grew up on a farm, so I know how to do it.” She pointed at him with her pen.

“Noted. He won’t fight for anything. Ever. We can rename him Gandhi.” Beckett smiled again.

“I like that.” She looked over her shoulder too. “Crap. Let’s do this.”

Beckett hopped over the counter and followed her through a set of swinging doors. She nodded at a nondescript door on the left.

“That’s where we put ’em down.” She tapped the door with her finger as they passed. “Meth—excuse me,
Gandhi
is here.” She opened a different door, and curled up in a ball on a soft blanket was the ugliest blob of fur Beckett had ever seen.

“Wow. That’s a dog?” Beckett closed the door behind him.

The fat blob of fur frowned at him from his place on the floor. Enya played softly from a cell phone on a nearby counter. A plate was set with a hamburger, fries, and a bowlful of what looked like chocolate shake.

Kristen ignored Beckett’s surprise and went to her knees. The fur wiggled around and made horrible retching noises.

“You’re such a good boy. I know, baby, I know. He’s a good one.” Kristen hugged him hard around the neck, and Beckett watched as a sort of face emerged. “I’m going to give him his last meal. Now it can be the first of his new life.”

He watched as the “dog” opened half its head to gulp down the meal on the plate. “You do this for all the dogs?” he asked. She obviously loved this animal. He couldn’t imagine the guts it took to march down the hallway to kill it.

“We do. We want them to spend a few hours as somebody’s treasured pet.” Kristen lifted the now-empty plate as Gandhi licked his ginormous chops.

Now that the dog was looking at him, Beckett could make out its face more clearly. His nose was smooshed in like someone had slapped him with a frying pan. And he made a lot of horrible noises that sounded like a combination of choking and puking.

Kristen wiped her hands on her pants. “Give me your phone.”

Beckett handed it to her. She pulled up his contact list and added her number, then called her phone to register his number there. “For serious, I want a picture a week and a picture of all his shot records. If I don’t hear from you, I will find you and reclaim this dog.”

“You love him. Why haven’t you taken him?” Beckett squatted down to get a closer look. He could’ve sworn the dog gave him the finger.

“It’s not an option for me. Listen, I have to set that alarm in four minutes. You better wait in the parking lot. Take him.”

She slipped a leash around the dog’s short, plump neck, handed it to Beckett, and rushed out. Gandhi fought the leash as Beckett tried to get him out the door. Kristen obviously had a few closing-up routines she was expediting. “Just pick him up and carry him!” she hollered on a pass near the room.

Beckett watched Gandhi as Gandhi watched him. Both were uncomfortable as Beckett wrapped his arms around the fat dog’s middle. He was heavy—super heavy like a sack of bowling balls. Beckett walked around the counter, backed out the door Kristen must have unlocked, and set the dog down outside, still holding his leash. She came running out and slammed the door just as a warning beep from the alarm sounded.

She inserted a key and turned it. “Just in time.” She took a deep breath and turned to face him. “Okay, here’s your crash course in bulldogs. Listening?”

Beckett nodded.

“Well, Gandhi here is a bulldog mix, so he’s stubborn and could possibly have health problems down the line. You need a relationship with a vet. You have to clean the folds of his face and not let him get too hot. Get good food from the vet, your new best friend, that has meat listed first in the ingredients.”

Beckett nodded again. He was still trying to count the folds on this dog’s ugly mug. There were a lot.

“He breathes mostly through his mouth, so he farts and drools a lot. Get rid of his balls and buy him a harness before you take him on a walk. It’s better for him. Any questions?” Kristen leaned down and handed Gandhi a stuffed school bus.

The dog wagged its stump of a tail and made a horrible woofle noise.

“Um. Why wouldn’t anyone adopt him?” Beckett had a sinking feeling because although the dog was hideous, he seemed sort of cute.

“Well, partly because of the dogfighting background, even though he wasn’t good at it. The clipped ears make people reluctant, and he’s a humper.” She began scratching Gandhi’s hindquarters. He sounded like a wet motorcycle starting up.

“A humper? Like actually humps stuff?” The dog had his school bus in his mouth while he enjoyed the love Kristen threw at him.

“Oh yeah. He’ll hump other animals, pillows, blankets…That might taper off after you get his nuts hacked.”

Beckett grimaced at the thought.

“But now it’s a learned habit and a personality trait, so he might be a forever humper,” she concluded. Kristen grabbed the dog’s face and kissed the top of his head. “Oh, I almost forgot: his nose doesn’t stay wet enough, so you have to get cream for that. You can always text me with questions. If I don’t know the answer, I’ll find out for you.” She boldly opened the back door of the Lincoln. She picked up the dog easily and set him in the back. She hugged him and kissed him again. “I knew I’d break rules for you, silly pup.”

The dog responded with more horrible noises like he was talking to her. She closed the door and took a deep breath before facing Beckett again.

“Okay, Mouse, quick review: tell me what you have to do.” She looked like a serious schoolteacher.

“Um, get a harness, a vet, lose the man bags, clean the cheese out of his folds, and don’t let him get hot. Smear some shit on his nose. Was that everything?” Beckett shook his head in disbelief. This night was getting weird.

“And…” She tapped her foot.

He snapped and pointed at her when he remembered. “Text you pictures.”

“Good. And I will stalk you and find you if this dog doesn’t have the most amazing life.” She turned and blew a kiss to Gandhi before patting Beckett’s shoulder. “Congratulations. You just became a daddy.”

Having resolved the issue of the dog’s future happiness, Kristen went to her crappy car with a bounce in her step. And despite how much Beckett knew he needed to get out of there, he sat for a moment, just watching her go. When her taillights had disappeared into the falling darkness, he took one last glance at Gandhi and pulled the Lincoln out of the lot.

His drive through the night seemed longer than it was, but that’s probably because he had no idea where he was going. And after a while, he couldn’t take the car any more. “I could do Vegas and back, but now I can’t take five hours,” he informed Gandhi. “You’ve made me a wang-rocket already.” He pulled off at the next exit, and by the time he’d settled into a dog-friendly hotel, he was physically and mentally exhausted. His snarfling furball seemed to be as well. The freaking dog was like a rock all night long in the center of the bed.

It was lunchtime by the time Beckett and Gandhi emerged for their morning walk and hotel checkout. Beckett threw his duffle bag and the damned stuffed bus back in the car and drove down the street to a gas station. The sun was high, and his new dog had settled into the back, apparently for a nap, despite sleeping like a freaking baby all night. Gandhi grumbled and harrumphed his disapproval when the car stopped again so soon. Beckett laughed as he walked into the station and grabbed a crappy coffee before prepaying in cash for the gas. On his way back out he sniffed the air, finding it filled with fresh sea salt. He was accidently in a beautiful little town. As he leaned against the car while it filled, he tried to come up with a reason this shouldn’t be his new home.

He couldn’t come up with one. He loved the goddamn ocean, and this place had enough stores not to feel like a deserted old man’s crotch but not so many that he couldn’t see the fucking stars at night. He could see the bridge he’d crossed to get to this little town in the distance. It was a million stories up and only had those cement highway dividers as a wall. It was scary and pretty all rolled into one.
Kinda like you, you handsome bastard
.

He looked in on his new dog. The freaking thing looked like Jabba the Hutt’s dingleberry. So damn ugly. His impulse decisions were super impulsive. As if his name were Beckett’s Disappointment, the dog looked up and half smiled. Beckett nodded in his direction. “What about it? You like this place?”

Gandhi wiggled his butt in response. Maybe this thing would be okay after all. Beckett slapped the gas dispenser back in its holster and turned to take one more look at his new pet. Gandhi was wildly humping his stuffed bus.

“Wow.” He slid behind the steering wheel. “We could’ve just high-fived. You are so getting your nuts chopped off. And soon.”

The dog fell off the seat in his amorous state and gave Beckett a shocked glare.

He couldn’t help but laugh. “You are a silly damn thing.”

They had to cool their heels outside a real estate office for almost an hour until the entire staff came back from lunch. By then Gandhi had relived himself robustly several times and now seemed to be enjoying sitting in the car, tongue lolling out. Beckett didn’t really have a plan, just an assload of cash and a hope for a better life that would somehow include Eve again someday.

Part Two

Five Years Later

4

Poseidon

R
YAN
M
ORALES
R
OLLED
H
IS
H
EAD
on his neck, trying to release the tension. It didn’t work. He was pretty sure his entire body had a headache, and he was so, so exhausted.

When he opened his apartment door, he went from tired to on-the-job in a breath. He drew his gun and assessed the exits, sliding against the wall to protect his six. His apartment was almost completely empty—of everything. After a quiet assessment he holstered his weapon. He recognized this type of destruction. Ryan closed the door behind him and didn’t bother to throw the lock. He went to the fridge and found a single beer instead of the twelve-pack that should have been nice and cold.

“Bitch.” He took out the beer and popped it open on the countertop. “But, if you left me a beer, that means breakup sex is on the table. Right, Poseidon?” Ryan toasted the fish bowl and noticed his beta was belly up and floating.

He looked closely at the water and shook his head. The crazy whore had filled the bowl with hand soap.

“Well, now
I’m
taking breakup sex off the table.” He toasted his dead fish again and drained the beer before scooping him out of the bowl. As he flushed the fish, he noticed she’d left him not one sheet of toilet paper.

He sighed. By his count this was his fifth failed romance since becoming a Poughkeepsie police officer a little over six years ago. They say the job makes you a bachelor, and he was certainly proving
them
right.

“Whoever the fuck they are,” he mumbled as he walked the apartment to note what else she’d left him. She’d had the good sense to leave his expensive Sleep Number bed and his huge flat screen TV, but pretty much everything else one insane woman could carry by herself was gone. He’d have to get his stuff back from her, maybe threaten to file a theft report…though his work buddies would make his life hell the minute he put in the paperwork.

He undressed and disarmed. He’d been looking forward to cuddling up with Trish, er, the psycho bitch tonight. It’d been a vicious one. Another domestic, which had to be his least favorite. The haunted eyes of the kids as they absorbed the conflict like a sponge always chilled him. He desperately wanted a shower, but she’d taken all the towels. He was due for a trip to Walmart in the morning.