Page 18
Chapter Eighteen
Dylan hasn’t gone out of his way to talk to me all week, so I’m pretty sure he’s gotten the message that I’m not interested in his pity. I’m not exactly looking forward to the awkwardness I expect we’ll experience while volunteering together. But the way I figure it, we’ll have one uncomfortable day and then we’ll be back to acquaintances who interact pleasantly but don’t share any personal information with one another. I can handle a single day.
I stiffen my spine as I pull the front door to the shelter open. There’s a young couple at the counter being helped by Chloe. She looks up and smiles at me. “Perfect timing. The Andersons couldn’t wait to pick up Bullseye. They were waiting for me when I opened the doors this morning. Would you mind getting him while I finish up their paperwork?”
“Not at all.” I set my bag on the floor next to the front desk and smile at the excited couple when I head toward the cat cave.
Bullseye is one of eight kittens who were born to a stray in a garden shed. The person who owns the shed gathered up the mom and her kittens and brought them to the pound. The five male kittens have already been neutered and received the last of their vaccines yesterday, making them eligible for adoption today. As is the way with kittens, they’re all on hold already. The three females will be spayed early next week. All the kittens are tabby cats, like their mother, but Bullseye has a perfect white circle on his chest.
I grab a small carrier and enter the cave, which is only a room with multiple carpet-covered built-ins for the cats to climb in and on. Observation windows look in from two different hallways, but it’s still too early for anybody to be here. Bullseye and his brothers are all snuggled together in a wicker basket on a shelf in a corner.
“Oh, I’m sorry to have to take you away from your brothers, Bullseye. But it looks like your new family is really excited to take you home.”
I scoop the little ball of fluff from the middle of the pile. Bullseye squeaks out a series of pathetic, under-developed mews in protest. I’m about to put him into the carrier, but at the last minute decide to carry him out to the couple and let them do it. They probably want to cuddle with him first anyway.
The woman whips around when she hears Bullseye’s protests approaching. The joy on her face makes it easy for me to hand the kitten over. As suspected, the woman immediately holds Bullseye high on her chest and close to her neck. She bends her head to rub her cheek gently against the kitten’s body. Bullseye buries his face against the crook of the woman’s neck and his protests morph into loud purring. The couple coos happily.
I set the carrier on the front counter and grin at Chloe. Chloe winks in response. It’s a good adoption. With a smile on my face, I snatch up my bag and head to the employee lounge. I’m still smiling when I swing open the gate to patio A. When Chip runs past, I frown. My heart stutters as I consider how the dog might have gotten out of his kennel. I jog in the direction of his kennel, but then I see another dog. I don’t recognize the dog sniffing around the edges of the patio. When Dylan steps out of Chip’s kennel, pushing the mop bucket in front of him, my heart rate slows. For a moment I’d forgotten about Dylan altogether.
“I didn’t think you had it in you to be late,” Dylan says, by way of greeting.
I squint at him. It sounds like a pleasant, teasing thing to say, but his tone is flat. “I wasn’t late. I helped with a cat adoption. Bullseye.”
“Lucky Bullseye. Good for him.”
Dylan grabs the broom and enters kennel B.
“And who do we have here?” I ask, stepping over to the information card next to the kennel. “Mr. Peabody. Who’s Mr. Peabody?”
Dylan sticks his head out of the kennel, a confused look on his face. “That dog, right there.”
“Oh, no. I mean what cartoon character is Mr. Peabody?”
Dylan’s confused expression only deepens. “I have no idea. Why are you even asking that?”
I chuckle. “If the dogs don’t come in with a name, the staff always name them after cartoon characters. They usually go through the whole cast of characters from a particular cartoon. Last week it was Animaniacs.”
A look of revelation dawns on Dylan’s face. “Oh, now I get it. I think you tried to explain that to me last week too.” He looks at the new dog again. “But I still have no idea who Mr. Peabody is.”
I tug my phone out of my pocket and type the question into a browser. “Oh. Mr. Peabody was a dog! Some smart, science-y type of dog. He hung out with a boy named Sherman. It was part of the Rocky and Bullwinkle show. I remember them. ”
Dylan shrugs. “I was never much of a cartoon person.” He disappears into the kennel again.
I turn back to the information card. “Mr. Peabody is a boy. No surprise there with a name like Mr. A beagle mix. Approximately three years old. He was a stray, so he’s not available for adoption yet.”
I turn toward the dog, squat, and call him over. He trots straight to me, with his tail wagging and a happy grin on his adorable face. I rub him down with both hands and he leans into it. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Peabody. If you aren’t claimed by your owners, I don’t think it will be long before you are adopted.”
Dylan steps out of the kennel again, grabs the mop handle, and pushes the bucket to the open door.
I jump up. “I’ll get that.”
“Don’t worry about it. I’m already here.”
Dylan isn’t being terse or difficult, but I still feel awkward.
“You know what? I’ll head over the patio Z and get that side done. You can spend extra time with Popeye on the leash. I’ll do the cat cave when I’m done with the other side.”
“You’re the boss.”
I open my mouth to deny it but don’t want to instigate an argument, so I simply turn and leave.
When I get to Dot’s kennel, my heart breaks to find it empty and the information card gone. Of course, I’m happy for Dot and thankful I came to spend some extra time with her during the week, but I’ll miss that sweet soul.
After finishing the kennels on patio Z, I hit the cat cave before stopping to take care of the reptile and rodent cages. We only have two reptiles—an iguana and an anole. I love the lizards. Their prehistoric-ness intrigues me, and they are easy to care for. When I get to the rabbit cage, I take the time to cuddle the furry little rodent. In my experience, it’s unusual for a rabbit to like to be held. Perhaps it’s just the rabbits who end up in the shelter, but I suspect timidity is a rabbit thing. This little girl loves to be cradled. I’m surprised it hasn’t been adopted yet because of that, but rabbits aren’t a popular adoption at the shelter.
Dylan finds me just as I’m finishing up the last hamster cage. “All of our morning chores are done already. What do we do next?”
“Have you ever worked retail?” I ask.
“Not unless you consider running a register at a service station retail.”
I consider it. “We can work with that. Follow me.”
When we get into the lobby, Chloe is helping a family. The youngest daughter is already cuddling their new kitten, one of Bullseye’s brothers. They have already removed the colored collar from his neck, so I don’t know which brother it is, but I love to see pets go to their new homes.
I turn my attention to Dylan and point to the wall of pet products. “We need to reorganize this. When the staff gets busy, they’ll display an item wherever there’s a blank spot, so cat collars might end up next to the waste bags, like this.”
Dylan squints at the two items. “What’s wrong with that?”
“Waste bags are a dog product.”
“Oh, waste bag. Got it.”
I hold my hands out to the long wall of products and cringe. “It helps a customer to know what the product is when it’s displayed properly. They’re more likely to buy a chew toy if it’s displayed next to the leash they need to buy, anyway.”
There aren’t too many items in the wrong place, so it only takes a short while for us to get the products organized.
When we’re done, Dylan stands back and scans the wall with a curled lip. “It still looks so jumbled.”
I back up until I’m standing next to him. “You’re right. It looks messy or something. ”
“Why don’t we try leaving a clear break between the different animal sections and then line up the hooks vertically so it’s more appealing to the eye.”
I bite my lip and consider his suggestion. “I’m not sure we have enough space to leave a break between all the animals.” Using my hands to show the size of each section, I say, “For example, dog would go here, cat here, rabbit here, and there’s no room for reptile.”
“Why don’t we group everything not dog or cat in an “others” category then? We don’t have a lot of products for the rodents and reptiles, do we?” Dylan studies the wall, looking for items that might fit into the “others” category. He points at each and counts. “Seven. That will be two rows.”
“Let’s try it. But let’s put the “others” category up first, since that will be farthest from the register. We want the more common dog and cat products most visible.”
“Smart thinking.” Dylan removes the products that fit in "others." “I assume we want dog products closest to the register. Dogs are the most popular, right?”
Chloe, who has finished with the adoptive family, says, “We adopt out more cats per year. But, Dylan, you’re onto something, because people buy more pet accessories for their dogs than they do their cats. So, yes, the dog supplies should go closest to the register.”
Dylan isn’t gloating, but I see a pleased smirk on his face. I consider teasing him, but that could send a mixed message about what kind of relationship I want to have and so far, today has been far less awkward than I expected.
I decide to remove the cat products from the wall. We can slide the dog items over when everything else has been removed.
Chloe surveys our work in progress. “Thanks so much for doing this. It’s one of those things we never get around to. Let me know if you need anything.”
We work in a comfortable silence until Dylan sneezes.
“There’s so much dust on some of these packages.” He holds up a crinkly plastic bag containing a small net to be suctioned to the inside of a lizard cage.
“Yeah, we should probably take the opportunity to wipe these off, too. I’ll grab some rags.”
I return with two rags, handing one to Dylan as he sits back on his haunches, staring at the wall. Because he’s distracted, he overreaches, and his fingers brush mine. I’m frustrated by the flutter that enlivens my innards. It was great when I was ‘embracing the crush’; now the reaction just makes me sad.
“I think I got all of the “others” products.” Luckily, he seems unaware of my inner conflict. “It’s hard to see. No wonder this stuff doesn’t sell well. This wall is overwhelming.”
I nod, squinting at the products still hanging on the wall. “This is a great idea, Dylan. I think it will boost sales and the shelter can use all the help it can get.”
“Maybe I have a future in retail,” Dylan says, as he switches to helping me take down the cat products.
“Dylan the merchandiser,” I joke. “You can do all of the retail windows in New York City. You’ll be the most sought-after window dresser around.”
“Window dresser.” Dylan chuckles.
“Oh, it’s a thing!”
He stops with a wall hook in one hand and a bag of catnip in the other and gawks at me. “Seriously?”
“Sure. I mean, I don’t know that there are actually any sought-after window dressers.” I roll my eyes. “I think they’re really called visual designers. It takes someone with an eye for a good display. But they also have to keep up on current trends, like color and mood and, I don’t know, display related stuff.”
“Huh. Well, if gigolo doesn’t work out, I’ll keep that in mind.”
A laugh bursts out of me before I can suppress it. “You’re going to hire yourself out, huh?”
Dylan glances sideways at me, his smirk in place on his face. “You gotta work with the assets you’ve been given, Ava. And mine are all here.” He points to himself from head to toe.
I don’t even try to hold my laugh back. He’s too funny. “How much do you charge? I need a date to my brother’s graduation.”
Dylan stops what he’s doing and turns toward me. My back stiffens at the soft expression in his eyes. “First time’s free.”
The gravel in his voice makes me gulp. “I’ll keep it in mind.” I focus intently on the wall, hoping he won’t see the redness on my cheeks. I skim the wall, trying to spot any cat products we might have missed, but my daydreaming mind keeps straying to an image of Dylan escorting me to Joel’s graduation. For some reason, he is in a tuxedo while I’m in the slinky dress Julia Roberts wore as a prostitute in Pretty Woman.
I shake my head to clear the ridiculous thought away and force my attention back to the product wall. But, again, a tuxedo-clad Dylan holds his arm out for me. Luckily, my daydream has a wardrobe upgrade. I’m now swathed in a long emerald-green gown. I must lift the hem to step up the bleachers to climb to my seat.
What the heck is wrong with me?
I shake my head more violently.
“You okay?” Dylan asks.
I startle at his very real voice intruding on my very ridiculous daydream. I look at him with wide eyes. His intense dark gaze raises goosebumps on my arms. But I’m happy to see he’s not in a tuxedo, and we are not at the school football field.
He tilts his head forward. “Ava?”
Oh no, I’ve been staring at him for too long, haven’t I? Snapping my attention back to the wall again, I clear my throat. “I think we can slide the dog products over now.”
“Okay.” He draws the word out to make it clear my insanity confuses him. That’s okay, Dylan. Daydreaming about you confuses me too.
After successfully killing the levity that had risen between us, I work mutely. I mentally scold myself for falling for his charms. It sucks that he’s so easy to talk to. Why can’t he be the arrogant jerk I originally thought he was? Is it some sort of self-sabotage thing that has me falling for the person who pities me? Once he realizes I have a crush on him, he can pity me even more. Maybe I should see a shrink about it.
As Dylan slides the dog items down, I straighten the first column so that each item below is directly under the item above. Then I straighten the second column. When I finish it, I step back and review my work. I cock my head from side to side. “How far apart do we want the columns within each category to be? Is this good?”
Dylan steps next to me and studies the display. He looks over at the columns he made of the “others” category at the far end of the wall.
“Oh!” I exclaim. “Yours looks better.” I step forward to set my columns a little farther apart before starting to work on the third column.
Dylan has already rehung most of the cat products by the time I’m done futzing with the dog category.
“You’re a perfectionist,” he says.
“Nah.” I wave a hand at him, but then a series of memories flash in my head of Joel, Sam, and Bek all accusing me of the same thing. I drop my hand. “Okay, maybe.”
He chuckles but his attention remains on his work. I join him in rehanging the cat products.
When we’ve hung and arranged all the products, we step back to admire our work .
“Wow, that looks great.” I can’t believe how much easier it is to look at. “It looks like a real retail display.”
Dylan bobs his head in a combination of a nod and shake. “But we need to group the products within each category.”
“What do you mean?” I stare at the wall. I’m so enamored with the result, I can’t see what he’s suggesting.
He reaches up and pulls a hook off the wall that holds dog leashes and then removes another hook that holds rawhides. He puts the leashes where the rawhides had been and then yanks down a hook of dental care products and sets the rawhides in its place. Finally, he rehangs the dental care hook where the leashes had originally been.
“Oh, I see what you’re doing.” I scan the much smaller “others” category. “And you already did it with the first category. You are organized.”
“Don’t let it fool you. It’s only my epic window dressing skills. The rest of my life, I’m a mess.”
I let out a breath of relief. “I’m glad to hear that. I was about to feel very threatened.” I bite my tongue and mentally scold myself for teasing him. It’s like I can’t help myself with him.
Perhaps he sees my self-admonishment on my face, because his lips suddenly purse together, and he shifts his focus back to the dog products with an unnatural intensity.
To distance myself, I step over to the cat section. I notice that Dylan had started to organize the category before my help messed it up. Why didn’t he say anything? I finish his work by tracking down all cat toys and moving them together. Then I group the collars. My mind is going to explode with the complicated puzzle I’m solving. I steal a few glances at Dylan who seems perfectly at ease in his find and replace project. He catches me looking so I snap my gaze away. He probably has the wrong idea of why I’m watching him. Well, the right idea, but what I’d tried to disguise as the wrong idea.
I drop my chin to my chest in defeat. I can’t even puzzle out my own feelings let alone these stupid cat products. “I give up.”
“I’ll get it.” Dylan nods his head in the direction of the employee breakroom. “Why don’t you go to lunch?”
I open my mouth to protest, but when he turns the full force of his gaze on me, I slam my lips closed. I’m pretty sure his chocolate syrup eyes are sending me an invitation to drown a happy death in them. I nod once and flee.