Page 6 of A Furry Thing Called Love (Friends of Gaynor Beach Animal Rescue #7)
Jordan
Indie and I enter Safe Haven Animal Rescue—Gaynor Beach’s only animal shelter.
The marble flooring and crystal light fixtures, as well as the beautiful facade and stunning architecture, might seem a little too bougie for an animal rescue, but it amuses me.
This place was sorely needed, and given all the hard work put in by the owner, Arthur, his staff, and the slew of volunteers, I’ve been more than excited to see the progress as it’s been built from the ground up.
I’m happy I’ve been able to play my part as well—volunteering in my, albeit limited, free time, and also donating when I could.
I wish I could have done more, but getting my business set up to accommodate the growth had to take precedence.
Especially since Arthur lets me advertise my services here.
That means making sure I’m prepared for all the first time pet owners who are looking for someone to help with their new family members.
“Hey, Jordan.” Arthur smiles briefly when he sees me. “Hi, Indie.” The grin that the shelter owner gives my dog could power a city.
Arthur and I have known each other a while now. He helped me get my name out there by sending clients my way, and I'll always appreciate his support. But nothing gets the quiet man going quite like animals. It's endearing, and one hundred percent relatable.
I'm not quite as shy and quiet as Arthur, or my cousin, Luka, but I definitely appreciate the company of animals over people. So, I never take it offensively when Indie gets more attention than I do.
Indie immediately goes up to Arthur, not even bothering to check with me. It should be frustrating, as that goes against her training, but if there’s anyone I can trust carte blanche with my animals, it's Arthur.
“Just came to drop off some flyers for the new puppy class starting in a few weeks.”
Arthur doesn't look up from showering Indie with attention. “Sounds good. I know there are a few people who are looking forward to that, so I hope they sign up.”
“Me too. I've been working on a class for two-year and older dogs as well, so expect me to be dropping more flyers off once I have the details worked out.”
Arthur straightens, laughing when Indie huffs her protest at no longer being his sole focus.
“That'll be good. Some people don't think about how important it is to train an older dog as well, believing that nonsense about how you can't teach an old dog new tricks.”
I scoff. “They just don't have me to help them.”
Easy? No. Once they are set in their ways, it can be hard to teach a dog—anyone really—a new way to do something, but never impossible.
Arthur chuckles. “Business going well then?”
I nod and click my fingers, calling Indie back to me. “More than. The private lessons will always be what I do best, but I'm enjoying the bigger classes, too.”
“I should hope so, after all the trouble you went through to get the training room built up at your place.”
I make a face, but he's right. Expanding my business and getting all the permits in order to turn the small building I’d built at the back of my property into a training center was a pain in the ass.
I understand the need for rules and regulations, but for a small dog training business, it was frustrating.
“At least that's done with and I can start helping more people. Anyway, we should get going.”
“You sure? We got a few new arrivals that could use some love and attention…” Arthur knows my weakness for snuggling small animals, and if the teasing grin on his lips is any indication, he can sense my interest.
Shaking my head, I back up a few steps, calling on all the willpower I have. “No, we need to get home and get the kids fed. I still have a stack of flyers to drop off with Dr. Louisa.”
“Next time then. Maybe I can convince you to take one home with you, too.”
Immediately, I shake my head and walk backwards toward the door. “Absolutely not. I don't have the time or need for another animal.”
“Indie wants a playmate, don't you?”
Indie barks and Arthur laughs, while I glare at the dog in betrayal.
“My menagerie is full up…for now, but I’ll be by soon to love on the babies.”
“I’ll wear you down soon enough. You’re as bad as I am with animals.”
Rolling my eyes, I tap my palm on my thigh and spin around. “I plead the fifth. Come, Indie. We’ll see you later, Arthur.”
“Yep, see you soon. Bye, Indie.”
Indie follows slowly out of the shelter. I’d threaten to leave her, but the last time I did that, she stopped in the middle of the foyer and dared me to. The dog is way too smart for her own good.
Sighing, I hold the door open for her as she very slowly and carefully makes her way out of the building. Shaking my head at her antics, I wave a hand at Arthur as he laughs at me. He gets way too much amusement from my snarky companion.
Our next stop is less eventful, though Indie charms everyone in the vet’s office, because of course she does. I swear the dog has more game than I do—not that I’m looking for anything, but still. If I tried to flirt, it wouldn’t come off half as well as when Indie does it.
I’m friendly and personable, sure, and maybe I took a little too much joy at helping push two of my friends together when they were dancing around each other, but actually dating myself?
No, thank you. I think my string of exes-turned-friends speaks for itself as to why being single is the thing for me.
Never mind the fact that the only person I’m not friendly with is the one that makes me rethink the way I go about my dating life. It’s been three years, and aside from some dates that haven’t gone anywhere, I think I have to admit I haven’t gotten over or moved on from Arlo.
It’s a strange realization. I knew I was hurt, that I didn’t want our time together to end because I was in deeper than I was supposed to be for a fling, but the true realization of how much it’s being weighing on me didn’t come up until I saw him in person again.
Aside from Val, Arlo has been the only one who’s ever seen me.
Valery and I didn’t work out for many reasons—their move across the country being the big one.
But there was also the fact we weren’t sexually compatible…
or more accurately, my being asexual meant there were sometimes hurt feelings when I didn’t have the same need, desire, or attraction for sex as Val did.
Not that they ever blamed me for it. They’re my best friend for a reason, the first person I ever fell head over heels for because they’re who they are: smart, understanding, and one of the best people I’ve ever met.
Val and I learned a long time ago that we were always meant to be in each other’s lives as friends, but there are times I wish that wasn’t true. Simply because it would be easier.
Indie nudges me and I shake myself of my rampant thoughts, pushing open the driver’s door and sliding out of the car, so Indie can jump down after me. She goes straight to the gate, her bright-blue eyes staring intently at me, as if judging me for being so slow.
By the time I’ve unlocked the gate, we’ve gathered an audience. Both Porter and Juniper are impatiently waiting on the other side, welcoming us home with appropriate snorts and bleats.
Juniper almost makes it impossible to walk as she runs around me, tripping me more than once. “If you kill me, you won’t get fed,” I warn her.
I manage to make it into the house unscathed, though I do get molested by Porter on my way in, as he sticks his snout against my pocket, basically begging for the dog treats in there.
I barely make it through the door when a voice calls out, “Hello? Free me!”
Shutting the door behind me firmly, I turn the deadbolt, because I’m fully convinced the pig knows how to open doors.
“Free me! Free me!” The chant starts up as I walk through the house, until I get to what is supposed to be the dining room.
Rodey flaps his wings and hops up and down on his perch when he sees me, then whistles a few times, before starting up the “free me” chant once more.
Snorting, I grab his food first, portioning out a small bit of seeds to go with the pellets.
Rodey flaps his wings once more when I open the door to his cage and dump the cup of food into his feeder. He sings a tune I’ve come to recognize as his “thank you”, because God forbid he actually says the words without being sarcastic.
That done, I leave him to his dinner, latching the door to the cage so it stays open, then he can come and go as he pleases once finished.
After putting the scoop back in the bird food, I get Indie’s dinner ready, and then grab a small scoop of grain for Juniper.
Heading out the backdoor with Juniper’s food, I’m almost assaulted by said goat once she realizes what I have.
Pouring the grain into her bowl, I check on the waterer, making sure it’s functioning correctly still.
It’s a brand-new addition to our little enclosure, so I want to make sure everything is okay.
Call me paranoid, but the temperatures are starting to climb, and I don’t want my babies to get dehydrated.
I spend a few minutes petting Porter, while he still tries to get any food he can out of my pockets—along with some non-food items. Luckily for him, I grabbed a few treats while I got Juniper’s food.
He always gets fed after Juniper because the scavenger in him will clean up whatever she doesn’t eat, so to try to keep an eye on his weight and calorie consumption. I’ve learned in what order I should feed the hellions.
After an hour sitting outside playing with Juniper—and finally feeding Porter—I head inside to feed myself.
Indie follows me into the house, Juniper mournfully bleating at the back door. She so badly wants to be a house goat again, but we’ve mostly gotten that urge out of her after hand-raising her last fall.
A house goat might sound like a good idea, and cute in theory, but no. First, the screaming; secondly, the diapers.
While it was easier on me to have her in the house when I was bottle feeding her, and she was too small to fend for herself outside, the diapers were a learning curve I never expected.
“My baby,” Rodey says, flying over to sit on the other side of the sliding door, staring at Juniper.
I snort at the bird, but leave the parrot and goat to entertain themselves as I get a quick dinner together for myself.
It’s not much; the last of my sandwich meat, and whatever random veggies are in the fridge for a small salad.
Grocery shopping gets put to the top of tomorrow’s to-do list after my appointments.
Who needs dating? This is perfect. Eating dinner standing up in my kitchen, while my menagerie runs amok around me, demanding attention and/or food. Nothing else matters except this.
Dating just…complicates things that don’t need to be complicated. So, realizations over how much I’m still heartbroken or not, ex-flings that became more that are now back in town or not, it doesn’t matter. I’m content exactly as I am.
Lies taste faintly of turkey and tomato, but no one has to know they’re lies except me. It’s fine.