Chapter 3

The black lab bounced on the concrete floor in front of her, yanking playfully on the blue leash wrapped around Doug Gibson’s hand. The two children at his side did not look nearly as cheerful as the pup, tears in their eyes, as they stared at a spot near Noelle’s shoes. She didn’t blame them. She felt the same way on the inside, and this wasn’t even her dog.

“Mr. Gibson,” she said, attempting to keep her voice even, but anger was beginning to seep in. “This is the fourth dog this year.” She took a deep breath and placed her hands on her hips. Then, realizing that might look hostile, which is how she felt, but not how she wanted to appear, she folded them, then changed her mind again and dropped them to her sides--rigid.

“I know that, Noelle,” he said, shaking his head. “But my wife keeps getting ‘em off of Craigslist,” he said with a shrug. “I keep telling her to stop, but she won’t listen to me. This one… he’s just too hyper.”

Noelle’s eyes shifted back to the lab. He was about six months old, not even grown into his paws yet. The last dog had been a chihuahua, she thought. It had been, “too yappy.” Before that, there had been a Rottweiler mix that was, “too large,” and the dog before that, the first one this year, but not the first one this family had dropped off at the shelter, was a tiny terrier mix that had been, of course, “too tiny.”

The dog looked up at her, his tongue hanging out of the side of his mouth in a half pant, half incessant need to lick something, anything. He was just a puppy. In a year or two, with proper training, Blacky would be a good family dog. “Mr. Gibson…” she continued, her attention shifting to the children, “look at your kids.”

He didn’t, only shrugged. “They’re the ones who won’t take care of him.”

“But… if you get him some puppy training--” she began.

He cut her off. “Where? We live in Clarkston, Noelle. We can’t be driving over here for training every week.”

It wasn’t that far. Clearly, it wasn’t so far that he couldn’t make several trips a year to drop a dog off. Not that Holiday Hills even had a dog training program. He’d have to go to one of the bigger cities for something like that. Trying to convince him that it was worth the effort was a waste of her words. He had made his mind up, and Blacky was no longer welcome in the Gibson home.

Mr. Gibson offered her the leash, not for the first time. A volunteer, Maddy Brown, was standing next to her. She gestured for Maddy to take the leash. “You do realize that the chances of a black dog making it out of this shelter are slim to none, right?” she asked, her voice quiet for the children’s sake, but the anger building again.

Mr. Gibson shrugged. “That’s why we brought him to a no kill shelter.”

“Granted, this is a better place to bring a pet than a shelter that would put him down, but what sort of life do you think he’ll have here? We have dozens of dogs, far too many to give them the attention they deserve, the attention a family could give them.”

Again, Mr. Gibson was complacent. “What do you want me to say? This fellow ate one too many slippers. See ya, Blacky.” He turned to head for the door as his children, a little girl who was about nine and a son who had to be about five, began to cry.

Noelle sighed in disgust and turned her back to them, not able to watch those same children cry again. Her eyes fell on Blacky. He wasn’t bouncing now. His tale was between his legs as he suddenly began to realize what was happening. His family was leaving--and he wasn’t. A whimper escaped his lips, and his feet moved back and forth a few times. As the door opened, the chime dinging in dismissal, Blacky gave a few sharp barks.

“Come on, buddy,” Maddy said, stooping as she patted his side. “Let’s go find a place for you.”

“Good luck,” Noelle muttered. The kennels were filling up. This was supposed to be the time of year when people adopted dogs, but with the economic downturn of late, people weren’t doing that, and it had inspired more people to drop their dogs off, or just release them into the world and hope for the best for them. Aggravation set in again. She was going to have to figure something out because her kennels were nearly full, and she didn’t have many ways of moving the current residents out to make room for more.