Page 51 of Three Not-So-Little Words (The Lawson’s #3)

fifty-one

Both a Little Broken

Ronnie

“ W ho’s a good boy? Who’s a good boy?” I coo as I rub Samson’s belly. “That’s right! Samson is a good boy!”

I wasn’t sure if volunteering at the animal shelter would be as much fun as it used to be, but it totally is. I’ve taken time to love on each one of the babies as I’ve cleaned out their stalls.

As I’ve done my work, I have made mental notes of some of the things that the shelter needs, so I can order them online and bring them in next week. All the furry babies in here deserve anything and everything I can give them.

I love on Samson for a few more minutes before getting up to move to the next stall. One of the workers, Carlos, walks over to me and asks how I’m doing.

“Fine,” I reply. “I only have one stall left.” I point to the one I’m getting ready to enter.

“Good luck with that one.”

“Why?” I ask. “Is he mean?”

“No, Arlo’s not mean. He’s just a total spaz. I think something happened to him before he came here because he acts terrified of everyone. No one who wants to adopt has even taken a second look at him.”

Poor baby.

I walk over and peek above the gate. There’s a tan dog that looks like a pitbull mix of some kind. As I start to walk inside, he cowers in the corner.

“Hi, little guy,” I say, holding out my hand.

He moves even further back against the wall.

Instead of trying to push him, I take a seat on the floor on the opposite wall. Pulling a couple of small treats out of my pocket, I line them in a trail between him and I.

It takes a minute, but soon enough, he starts to sniff.

He stretches his head as far as it can go without moving his body and is able to snag the first treat into his mouth.

He’s not going to get that lucky with the other ones, though.

They’re a little further away, so he’s going to have to work for them.

His big brown eyes dart from me to the treat and back again. I don’t make any sudden movements and try to keep him calm.

Finally, he works up his nerve and starts to move toward me the slightest bit. When he reaches the next treat, he lays back down as he eats it.

I look him over and see that there are some scars on his right ear. I’m guessing maybe bites from another dog. I wonder if before this, he was made to fight or something. God, I hope not. Just the thought of that gets my blood boiling.

I don’t know what it was, but something has clearly happened to this sweet boy. He’s scared half to death to even get close to me even when I have food in my hands.

I watch as he slowly moves from one treat to the next–the whole time looking at me as though he is unsure if I am friend or foe. As he’s trying to decide his next move, I look up at his rap sheet that hangs from a string on the door.

Name: Arlo

Age: Unsure but probably between two and three years old.

Potty trained: Unknown.

Good with kids: Unknown.

Good with other animals: Unknown.

Notes: Arlo is extremely skittish and unsure of his surroundings. He needs someone who has an extreme amount of patience and is willing to be his safe space.

I look back at him, and his big eyes meet mine. It’s the first time he hasn’t immediately looked away. I don’t move but instead let him decide what he wants to do.

He finally looks away, and I think I’ve lost him again. I decide to stay in here a while longer to try to get him to come around. He’s my last stop for the day, and I have nowhere else to be, so why not? Sometimes, people just need a friend–dogs too.

I lean my head back against the cement wall and get lost in my own thoughts for a few minutes. I got up at the ass crack of dawn this morning. I’m so tired I feel like I could fall asleep right here and now. Probably not a good idea. Arlo may eat me.

I have no idea how much time has passed when I feel a cold nose sniffing my hand. Slowly, I open my eyes and look down to see Arlo at my side. I try not to move or even breathe that heavy so that I don’t scare him off.

In a quiet voice, I say, “Hi there, Arlo.”

He looks up at me, and his tail gives a single wag.

“You’re a good boy, aren’t you?”

Another wag.

I bring my other hand over gently and let him sniff it. Once he seems satisfied, I start petting him. His entire body stiffens, but it doesn’t take him long to relax.

He looks up at me with his tail now wagging at a little bit of a quicker pace. I hold out my hand to see if he will put his paw in it. Without warning, instead of giving me a paw, he leaps into my lap. I look down at the dog who is now curled up in a ball on top of me.

“Aw, look at you,” I say. “You’re just so cute! You just need someone to take the time to love you, don’t you?”

Carlos peeks his head over the door of the stall, and his eyes go wide. “Wow, Arlo has never done that with anyone before.”

“He just needed someone to take it slow, I guess.”

“Looks like you’ve found yourself a new dog.”

“Oh,” I stammer. “I just came in to help. I didn’t really come in here looking for a dog.”

“Sometimes, the person doesn’t find the dog. The dog finds the person.”

I’ve never put much thought into getting a dog.

I love dogs, but I’ve never been home enough to put in the time and effort needed to properly take care of a dog.

It wouldn’t be fair to them. But now, I guess that’s not an issue anymore.

I won’t be traveling nearly as much, and I will be home quite a bit.

Plus, maybe when I do travel, Drew and Colton can look after him for me.

Should I be committing to that without talking to them?

Probably not. But if Drew didn’t want to, I’m sure I could convince Dylan to do it. He’s a softie for dogs.

I still don’t know if this is a good idea, but the look in this dog’s eyes tells me that we are both a little broken inside. Maybe we can help each other put the pieces back together again.

I look down at the cute pup in my lap who is now rolling over and letting me rub his belly. “What do you think, Alro? Do you want to come home with me?”

A few hours later, Arlo and I have filled out all of the paperwork, stopped by the pet store, and made our way back home. It’s amazing how much change I am already seeing in this dog. Getting out of the shelter was like breathing fresh life into him.

At the pet store, he was curious about absolutely everything. Sure, he was still scared a lot, but curiosity was first and foremost. He sniffed and sniffed, and I bought half the store to make sure that he would be comfortable when he got back home.

I think it’s safe to say this dog now has more stuff than I do. That’s okay. He’s much cuter than I am.

I got him a dog bed for the living room, but as soon as I’m comfortable on the couch, I call him up there with me. It takes him a minute to decide what he wants to do, but once he jumps up and realizes how comfortable it is, he settles in nicely.

I turn on a baking show to zone out for a while, and when I’m not paying attention, he makes himself comfortable in the crook of my arm with his head resting in my lap.

“Oh, yeah,” I say. “You’re going to fit in well here. You just needed someone to love you, didn’t you?”

As I rub his head, I continue to talk. “You’re just not quite sure how to accept love. That’s okay. I’m not that great at that either.”

I think about Drew’s confession the other night. He said he loved me, and I’m sure I looked like I just saw a ghost. I’m not saying I don’t love him. But I’m not sure that I do, and I’m sure as shit not going to say it without meaning it–especially when there’s a kid involved.

Yes, I’m crazy about him. He’s a great guy who treats me like gold. And I haven’t run away even though I’m not used to any of the relationship stuff.

But am I really ready to put down roots with someone and give up the life that I had? What if he wants me to completely stop traveling? What if I end up barefoot and pregnant? Just the thought of that makes me shudder.

I’m not sure I ever want to get married or have kids of my own. I’d consider marriage before the kids thing, but even that, I’m unsure about.

I feel like saying the L word is a freight train heading straight for the marriage stop, and I don’t know that I’m ready for any of that.

Then again, how long is Drew going to stick around if I always keep him at arm’s length? If I can’t commit to him, why would he continue to commit to me?

Part of me wonders if that’s what I’m waiting for deep down inside. If Drew left, I could retreat back into my comfort zone and not have to worry about anyone but myself.

I let out a heavy sigh. Why am I such a fucking mess?

Maybe it’s time to look into some therapy.