Strays (14 page)

Kevin looked so serious. “That's not how he saw it. If we get enough complaints, it will shut down the program. And what would that do to help these dogs?”

“So where is he going?” I asked again, desperately needing an answer.

“He needs some time to cool off. We can't work with a dog that has a complaint against him, and I guarantee you that man will file a complaint as soon as he gets home. Roman is in good hands, Iris. Don't worry.”

That was an impossible request.

It was as though the minute I resolved to be there for Roman, he was taken away from me.

Before I knew it, Kevin had ushered Roman into the van. I didn't even get to say good-bye. I had gone from anger to sorrow in a matter of minutes.

This time, when Talbot came over to comfort me, I let her put her arms around me and hold me while I closed my eyes and let the sadness envelop me.

*

At home I brought in a pile of mail consisting solely of bills. Many were in red envelopes. Red—the color of the kite that rook Roman away. The color of anger. It was never a good color. I opened the water and power and gas bills, all of which were on their final notice before shutoff. Then I opened the cable bill and was reminded of what I already knew—the cable had been shut off. The problem was way bigger than me not being able to watch my animal shows. Our lives were being shut down. How could Dad have let this happen?

There must have been some sort of mistake. Even though Dad often got distracted by work, he never was one to be late on any sort of payment. He always used to joke with my mom that he even had a perfect library account—not one late fee.

I called him at work and, when prompted, hit his office extension. I heard a strange beep before the system hung up on me. I tried again. The same thing happened. I tried calling him on his cell, but it went straight to voice mail. After texting twice, I gave up, placed the envelopes in the middle of the breakfast table so he'd be sure and see them as soon as he got home, and continued working on my final paper.

I had decided to stick with the theme of missing mothers. I had a theory that they had to die in order for their daughters to find their own identity.

The thing was—this theory didn't apply to my situation, just fairy tales. I was without my mother and felt more lost than ever. I began feverishly brainstorming ideas, pausing only when the barking dog next door distracted me and my thoughts would momentarily turn to Roman.

When would I see him again? Did he miss me? I felt like I was one of the only people in the world who understood him. How was I supposed to focus on writing this paper when all I could think about was Roman?

Then it all clicked. Missing mothers were all the rage in fairy tales. I wanted to write about something new. I decided to focus my attention on the one character in the Angela Carter book that I could completely relate to—Wolf-Alice.

R
egardless of Kevin's assurance that Roman was in good hands, we all soon discovered that the unthinkable had occurred.

“Guys, we have something serious to discuss,” said Kevin when I asked him how Roman was doing.

“This isn't the first complaint we've had about Roman. Over the years, he's had a few—not tons, but enough to red-flag him. He's been on probation with our organization, and I'm afraid this last complaint has put us in a very precarious position.”

“Cut to the chase, man!” said Randy. “Where is he?”

Kevin continued. “We can't have a dog with that many strikes against him. We just can't.”

“Where is he, Kevin?” I said. “We need to know the truth!”

Kevin was silent. Whatever he was about to tell us was grave. “He's at the pound.”

I felt as though someone had punched me in the stomach and knocked the wind out of me.

“How could you let this happen?” Oak asked.

Kevin explained the bureaucracy of the system over and over again, as if the practicality of the rules and regulations was supposed to override the emotions of seeing Roman taken away without so much as a good-bye. I thought Kevin was supposed to be not only my advocate, but also the dogs'. He had let me down.

“It's not his fault,” said Talbot, defending Kevin. But I didn't agree with her.

I tried to think realistically. “What can we do?” I wasn't going to let my anger distract me from trying to remedy the situation.

“I've been up all night trying to think of creative solutions. I just can't wrap my head around this one, guys. I'm so sorry,” said Kevin with sadness in his voice.

*

After class I urged the others to stay behind and discuss Roman's situation. We were a hodgepodge of delinquent talent, for sure—but what we all had in common was our ability to rebel and think outside the box. This had to work in our favor, if we could channel it correctly.

“We have to see him,” I told the group.

“I have a date, Iris,” said Randy.

“And I have to babysit my cousin. Sorry,” said Shelley.

“I get it. It's fine,” I said. “What about you two?” I asked Oak and Talbot. I knew they didn't completely get along with one another and Oak and I were still on the outs, but I'd hoped they could put aside their differences for Roman's sake.

“I'm in,” said Talbot.

“Yeah, me too,” said Oak.

The three of us piled into Oak's truck and headed toward the pound.

Operation Dog Rescue was in full effect.

*

“He's got to be in here somewhere,” Oak said.

Oak, Talbot, and I were at the animal shelter, peering into all of the kennels, looking for Roman. I couldn't help but think how being stuck in a shelter was quite possibly the worst thing for a dog who was working so hard to overcome his past. Who would be brave enough to pick him as their ideal pet when the place was filled with younger, sweeter-looking dogs with all four legs intact?

The smell of the building, a strange mix of urine and bleach, each alternately overpowering the other, was reason enough to hate this place.

“What if they've adopted him out already?” asked Talbot.

“That should be the least of your concerns,” said Oak.

“I forgot,” she said, “you know everything.”

I couldn't take their bickering. And the nonstop barking was enough to give anyone, human or animal, an anxiety attack.

“Can we remember for one second that this is about Roman and not about you two?” I couldn't believe they were getting into it at a time like this.

“Here he is!” shouted Talbot. Oak and I ran quickly to catch up to her.

Roman was in the very last enclosure, huddled in the corner, but he rose quickly and wagged his tail as soon as he heard our voices.

A big sign with the word AGGRESSIVE in block letters was hanging outside his cell. He had been labeled, like me. I thought about how even my own best friend had grown fearful of that label.

I reached my hands through the bars of his cell to pet him.

“Hiya, boy!”

He licked the salt off of my skin.

A husky, uniformed guard came running over to us. “Miss, I'm going to have to ask that you refrain from placing your hands in the cell. You never know with a dog like this. They can snap.”

“Oh, they're old friends,” said Talbot.

“Then maybe you'd like to consider adopting him? Once dogs are brought in, they don't have long before—well, you know,” said the guard.

“Before what, exactly?” asked Oak.

“Before he's euthanized. Put down,” he added, as if we didn't know what
euthanized
meant. “It's shelter policy. He's lucky he ended up here. The one over in Capitola has a standing order of just three days for unclaimed dogs.”

“Well, how many days does he have left?” I asked, but the guard just shrugged.

My heart sank. In a matter of days, Roman, my rescue, would be killed, and there was nothing I could do about it.

“Can you take him home?” asked Oak.

“There's no way,” I said. “We can't have animals at our place.”

“My mom's really allergic,” he said. “She can't get anywhere near dogs. She'd never be able to come in my room.”

“Maybe that's not such a bad thing,” said Talbot.

“Sorry,” said Oak.

We both turned to Talbot.

“Don't look at me. You know I'd take all of them if I could. But I have an orange RV with my name on it that I'll be driving across this country in three hundred and sixty-five days, and bringing a dog with me on the road isn't part of the vision.”

I was getting angry. Not at the fact that neither my friend nor my quasi-boyfriend would adopt Roman, but infuriated by how helpless the situation was.

“Is there any way we can hang out with him?” I asked the guard.

“Sure, you can have ten minutes in the visiting room. It's really only supposed to be for people who are considering adopting an animal. But you all seem like a nice bunch.”

“We're not
that
nice,” joked Talbot under her breath. I shot her a look, not wanting to jeopardize any time with my dog.

The guard brought a leash over to Roman, who retreated, shaking back into his corner when the cell was unlocked.

It was awful to see him like this. It made me think about how environment really was everything. How was an animal supposed to survive in a cage? I thought about the one day I had spent in jail and imagined what it would be like to be stuck there for days on end. What if no one had come to pick me up? What kind of life was it when there was no one to bail you out?

*

“He's scared,” I said. I could practically read Roman's thoughts at this point.

When the guard started heading toward Roman's neck to hook the leash, Roman barked viciously, making the guard jump.

“I don't think it's gonna happen today. Not worth getting my arm bitten off,” the guard said to me.

“May I try?” I asked.

“She's really good with him,” said Oak.

“It's against policy,” said the guard.

“Sometimes, policies suck,” said Talbot.

Before the guard could respond, Roman was at my feet, begging.

“See?” said Talbot.

“All right, but don't tell them up front.” The guard handed me the leash, and I easily clipped it to Roman's collar.

“Walks well on a leash. I never would have guessed that,” said the confounded guard as he escorted us to the end of the hall, then led us to a room with a few beaten-up dog toys.

“I trained him,” I said proudly.

“You have ten minutes,” the guard said and left us alone.

Once the guard shut the door, Roman's personality came out. He wasn't scared or defensive but loving and playful, tugging on a rope and digging at a plastic tube filled with dog treats.

“He doesn't belong here,” said Talbot.

“We need to find Sebastian's dad. It's the only way,” I said.

“Who's Sebastian?” asked Oak.

“The kid, from the park,” I said. “The one with the kite. If he could learn about who Roman really is, how much he means to all of us…”

“It's never gonna work. That guy hates dogs. He really believed that Roman was going to attack his kid,” said Talbot.

I couldn't take my gaze off of Roman.

“Well, it's the only choice we have,” I said.

After Roman had tired himself out running around he nuzzled in close to me, leaning his face up against my knee as I stroked his head. He breathed a few deep breaths, like a dog who had the whole weight of the world on his shoulders.

“You're gonna be okay,” I whispered, not believing my own words. But maybe, if he heard them, he'd sleep better tonight.

And then, as if life was racing by at warp speed, the guard was at the door telling us our time was up.

“I'll let you put the leash back on,” he said.

I obliged and led Roman back to his cell.

“We love you, Roman,” said Talbot.

“We miss you,” added Oak.

I lowered my face down to Roman's, and for the first time I saw that we were two similar beings, struggling to contain our anger. Struggling to be understood.

“We'll get you out of here,” I said, handing the leash over to the guard, who opened the door and made sure Roman was locked back inside.

*

We spent all of Saturday hanging out at the grassy knoll at Natural Bridges, desperately waiting for Sebastian and his dad to show up. Even Shelley and Randy joined us.

“I can't say I even like that dog, but I like you,” Randy said to me; my cheeks reddened.

It was all to no avail. Tons of kids passed through with Frisbees, their own dogs, jump ropes, and picnics. But no sign of the boy.

The clock was ticking.

“Let's follow the ice cream cart,” said Shelley.

“I'm not worried about eating ice cream right now,” said Talbot, annoyed.

“Not to eat, you fool,” she said. “The ice cream cart is like the Pied Piper for little kids!”

She had a point—everywhere that cart went with its ringing bell, kids came running. Unfortunately, just not the kid we were looking for.

“What are we going to do?” Talbot asked.

My brain was racing with ideas. I had always been a good student, able to critically think. Why, then, was I completely frozen when it came to this dog rescue?

“We could talk to Kevin?” suggested Talbot.

“Again?” I said. “We've bugged him about this like ten times. He won't budge. He thinks that dad has a right to his opinions as much as we have a right to ours.”

“He doesn't want to jeopardize his organization,” said Oak.

“Maybe we could break into the pound and get Roman out?” said Talbot.

“No way I'd risk it. One more infraction for me, and I'm gonna get real jail time instead of this community service stuff,” said Randy.

“Randy's right. We can't break the law again. It would be the ultimate irony,” I said.

“You and your big words,” said Shelley.

We were exhausted, sunburned, and stressed out. Everyone wanted to go home, but no one wanted to be the first to admit it.

Finally, Shelley said, “I have another babysitting gig tonight,” prompting all of us to stand up and gather our things. I thought about Conor and Hunter, the boys I was supposed to have been sitting over the summer. I wondered who their new sitter was and if they liked her more than me.

“I have another hot date,” said Randy.

“I have an obligatory family dinner. Anyone jealous?” said Talbot, rolling her eyes.

I was, but I didn't say anything.

“You two? Any plans?” asked Talbot.

“We do, actually. Big plans,” said Oak.

I looked at him. We hadn't talked about having plans tonight. In fact, unless the conversation had been about Roman, we hadn't really talked at all since the bonfire.

Once everyone else had left, I didn't want it to be awkward to be alone with Oak, but it was. I tried to diffuse the situation by talking about Roman again.

“There's gotta be something more we can do,” I said.

Oak was looking deeply into my eyes. “You're such a good person, Iris.”

I blushed. It was good being this close to him. And just when I was about to return the compliment, he leaned in to kiss me. His lips were soft.

I pulled back. “Have you noticed we only kiss when the sun is setting?”

“What can I say?” said Oak. “I'm picky about mood lighting.”

“Or maybe we're vampires,” I offered.

He bared his teeth and then went in for another kiss.

“So you still like me?” I asked sheepishly.

“Yeah, you can't scare me away that easily,” he said.

“I'm sorry about how I reacted before,” I said, hoping Oak would understand me. “It's this thing I do. I'm not good at accepting help.”

“I know. I get it. But remember, taking some help isn't the same as being rescued.”

I nodded, and we kissed some more. And just as I was about to get lost in the moment, an idea came to me.

“We have to go,” I said.

“What just happened? What did I do?”

“Nothing, it's not you. It's just…I think I've figured out a way to save Roman's life!”

“But we've exhausted every possibility,” said Oak, frustrated.

“You're forgetting one small detail,” I said. “You're a computer bad-boy genius!”

“What does that have to do with—”

“Can we go to your house?” I asked. “I have an idea.”

*

By the time we arrived at Oak's house, the fog had come creeping in, and we could barely see three feet in front of us. I removed my bike from the back of his truck, and, for the first time, I got to see his house, which was on the south side of town, near the beach, across from the Santa Cruz Beach Boardwalk—not very far from me.