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Back in the staff room, Portia was biting her nails and Dennis was stirring the instant tea. Another woman was waiting at the counter, with a fluffy white cat in a hand carrier. “Someone will be right with you,” Naomi said, and turned to the man. ” Portia took over at the front desk and Naomi showed him back to the kennel office where Dennis was waiting. She sat in a metal folding chair on the side of the room. Dennis sat behind the desk and began by saying there was some unfortunate news. With so many animals going in and out all the time, they relied on a set of lists, and somehow Barbie had been put on the wrong one.
She did remember what she did with the dog, and felt like she needed to throw up. “I don’t know.” “This is so fucked up,” Portia said. It had been ten minutes since she left the front desk, and Naomi had to go back. He looked nervous, but smiled politely when she entered the room. Tuesday had been a hectic day, and there had been some kind of miscommunication.
The boxer puppies had been there a week, but they were cute enough that she held out hope for adoption. He smiled once, broadly, then all expression left his face. “A rendering plant.” The smell of the cotton field had always reminded her of glue. Just—I’ve seen bad, and this is a cherry.” She followed his line of sight into the field, trying to imagine what he saw. I understand if you’d rather burn us down.” For the first time she saw despair on his face. He played offense and defense, as there were seventeen total players on the team. He did make friends, and his house became a popular sleepover destination, at least partially because of the two high school girls who also lived there.
She made a casual circuit around the room, considering. The plants will buy remains.” Fisher looked at her. She wondered if his prosthetics absorbed the heat from the sun, if that was a concern. In middle school, his mother encouraged him to go out for football as a way to make friends.
She was removing and reattaching a pen cap with her teeth, and spit it out to talk. Each cage had a number on a plastic card clipped to the gate. She suddenly felt rude for watching, and marched back to the shelter. After the heat of the field the inside air froze her shoulders. He was sad to leave the house in Lake Village, because the dryer on its back in the side yard made an excellent racecar, when his sisters weren’t using it as their bakeshop oven.
Big goofy smile.” To calm a fever, Naomi’s mother had once forced her to take an ice bath. Inside the waiting room, Portia manned the front desk. Besides the shelter, she did hair at A Cut Above and tended bar at The De Soto. He was in his fifties, tall and portly, with white, Martin Van Buren-style muttonchops and an endless supply of pale blue, short-sleeved button-down shirts. She stirred and stepped behind him to read over his shoulder. “Probably just a half-day’s work, if you want to go at it like that.” On the clipboard was a single sheet of paper, a simple black-and-white grid. She took a pencil and the clipboard to the kennel, a large, rectangular room with a smooth concrete floor and fluorescent lights. She tried them on and narrowed the choices to a green halter that tied at the neck, and a simple black v-neck.