A Girl's Best Friend Read online

  A Girl’s Best Friend

  Cora Jay

  Contents

  1. Tyra

  2. Jackie

  3. Tyra

  4. Jackie

  5. Tyra

  6. Jackie

  7. Tyra

  8. Jackie

  9. Tyra

  10. Jackie

  11. Tyra

  12. Jackie

  13. Tyra

  14. Jackie

  15. Tyra

  16. Jackie

  17. Tyra

  18. Jackie

  19. Tyra

  20. Jackie

  21. Tyra

  22. Jackie

  23. Tyra

  24. Jackie

  25. Tyra

  26. Jackie

  27. Tyra

  28. Jackie

  29. Tyra

  About the Author

  Copyright © 2017 by Cora Jay. All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  This book is intended for mature readers ages 18+, and is not suitable for younger readers. It was originally published as Forever Home by Rory Wilde.

  Created with Vellum

  1

  Tyra

  Tyra’s fingers and palm burned as the leash slid through them. “Come on, honey, wait up,” she said, holding tightly against the eager dog while she fumbled with the gate to the dog park. A ping sounded from the pocket of her cargo pants.

  As soon as the latch clicked on the fence, she trotted into the park, Leah leading the way. When she saw that Tyra wasn’t following as quickly as she’d like, the Labrador mix turned around and gazed up at her with bright, inquiring eyes, slightly glazed over with cataracts.

  “Sorry, hon’, I have to check this.” Tyra took a moment to unhitch the leash from Leah’s collar, and the old dog bounced around her as if she were a puppy while she checked an email on her phone.

  The board was supposed to have sent out the final draft of the budget proposal. It was tedious stuff, but critical to running the Redwood County Animal Shelter. Tyra scrolled through the document, looking over the final edits as Leah decided to run laps around the perimeter of the fence.

  She quickly tapped out a reply: Looks good, Sandra! —T. She slipped her phone back into her pocket and hung Leah’s leash on a railing, going off to play with her. She’d gone all the way around the park once by the time Tyra had finished with the email and was back by her side again.

  The big yellow Labrador mix was blessed with excellent overall health. While she preferred to sleep and simply lounge around most of the day, she was up for playing whenever Tyra took her out. Tyra found a newish tennis ball and waved it in front of the dog, laughing at her enthusiasm. Leah was honest to goodness the perfect dog.

  She’d be ideal for a family because she was so calm and friendly, but it was unlikely she’d get adopted simply due to her age, which was clear on her face: the graying muzzle and whiskers betrayed her years. It was hard to see such a lovely creature get passed over so many times, but it happened.

  Tyra jogged after Leah as she ran for the sheer joy of it. She stumbled every so often and Tyra kept a close eye on her. But despite her age, Leah was fairly agile, and Tyra wasn’t too worried about her getting injured.

  Tyra threw the tennis ball a couple more times and Leah returned it like clockwork, but her energy was waning. She was panting heavily, practically winded, when she brought the ball back this time. Trya got down on her knees in front of her, pulling her in for snuggles and a hug. She panted happily, her tail moving side to side as she received Tyra’s affection. When she pulled away, Leah darted forward to lick her face.

  “I know, honey, I love you too,” she said, returning her grin. She stood up and walked back to the gate, Leah trotting behind. The dog sat patiently as Tyra affixed the leash to her collar, and they headed back into the shelter.

  It was a slow weekday, which was normal. Weekends were a rush because people who worked during the week could only come to look at animals then; the shelter kept 9-5 hours. And the college students from the nearby university primarily came in to volunteer on weekends. Tyra enjoyed the weekdays, as they allowed her to spend more time with the animals.

  She took Leah back to her run, knowing that she would be hungry. And it was time for her to get fed, anyway. After setting the latch, she went to the storage room where they kept the food and other supplies. Tyra’s coworker, Tina, was already there.

  “Hey, Tina,” she said. “I’m here to help with all the dogs in the first runs.”

  “Thank you! I thought I was going to have to do it myself.” Tina smiled.

  The petite woman was strong, but the enormous bags of food were bulky and best handled by two people. Tyra helped her pour some kibble into a bucket, and they started using a scoop to dole it out.

  “We just have this last bag left,” Tina said, her mouth twisted into a dissatisfied grimace. “I hope we won’t have to ration it out.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” said Tyra. “Our next installment will come in at the end of the month. And it’s nearly the start of the county’s fiscal year. They’ll have to approve that damn annual budget soon.”

  “Does it look good?”

  Tyra could see the worry in her wide eyes. She smiled reassuringly. “We have plans to spiffy up our storage facilities, expand the dog runs… It’s going to be good.”

  Tina grinned. “Really? I mean, I don’t want to be rude, but this room…” She waved her hand.

  She was right. It was functional, but it looked run down. They’d had to jury-rig some shelving and containers, and it was always a struggle to fit everything in, like Tetris. They managed, but this room needed some organization.

  “That’s in the budget,” Tyra said. “As well as some improvements for the training room.”

  “Thank God,” Tina said. “But I thought that they were just going to approve the minimum we needed for operations.”

  Tyra shook her head, unable to hide her enthusiasm for the plans she and the other managers had created. “They told us to put in some extra requests,” she said. “I mean, it might not happen. But we’re hopeful. This room is at the top of the list, as well as the runs, but if we get more…”

  Tina’s shoulders relaxed. “That’s a relief. It really is. And here I was thinking we’d have to find more foster homes or something.”

  “Oh God, no,” said Tyra. “No. Keeping the dogs here is a priority, and we’ll be able to do that.”

  Tina smiled, her expression now at ease. “Thanks, Tyra,” she said, carrying a smaller bucket of kibble out.

  “No need to thank me,” Tyra said, picking up her own bucket.

  They made to leave, Tyra pushing her weight against the heavy door to hold it open for Tina. She let it close quickly; visitors sometimes came down this corridor to see the runs on the end, and she didn’t want them to peek in and see the disaster that was the shelving.

  She entered the row Leah was in and started serving the dogs. They gazed up at her with hopeful eyes, tails wagging vigorously, some rearing up and placing their paws on the run doors. It was loud in here. When one dog started barking, you soon had two, and then it was the whole damn place.

  As she fed each dog, Tyra carefully initialed the clipboard hanging by each of them. She was diligent
about doing this. In a shelter with so many animals, it was important to make sure everyone got as much attention as possible, so she had all the staff initial every day if the animal got interaction. That way, no one would get left out.

  As she headed back to get another bucket of kibble, she replayed the earlier conversation with Tina. She was feeling enthusiastic about the budget; Sandra had certainly made it sound like they would get funding for all the extra projects. But the bottom line was that running a shelter was a precarious operation. The government always gave them enough money to keep it open; that was a given, considering how important having a shelter was to the county. But there had been years where things were tight. They had had to rely on private donations to even get the dogs fed and keep up the volunteer program, both of which were critical.

  She hoped this wouldn’t be another one of those years, but it was always hard to tell. Submitting the budget was ultimately a crapshoot; you could never tell what would come out on the other side. She could only hope they wouldn’t have to beg the local philanthropists for funding to do something as basic as mend leaks. And even she needed her salary; she’d taken pay cuts before, and it wasn’t ideal.

  Now that she was done feeding her half of the runs, she had a little extra time to look in on two little guys who were new arrivals to the shelter. Thankfully, the little dogs were going to be snapped up quickly because they were puppies. Puppies rarely lasted more than a couple weeks at the shelter because they were in such high demand. But she still wanted to get to know them so she could make a good match.

  There was a lot more to adopting out dogs than sizing up prospective pet owners. Part of Tyra’s job—and what made her so good at it—included ascertaining the personality of each individual dog, so she could make good matches. A more energetic, trainable dog would be great for a sporty person who wanted a jogging partner, while a calmer dog would be ideal for an older person who wanted a companion.

  But it wasn’t as simple as determining temperament. There was something intuitive to the process. Dogs were individuals too, surprisingly complex, and Tyra had just the knack for understanding, on an almost subconscious level, what made them tick. She hadn’t yet had any new dog owners bring their dog back because it turned out to be a bad match, and she was proud of her track record.

  As she walked past the cats, she chuckled. She liked them well enough, but she didn’t quite get them like she got dogs. They were more inexplicable, their motivations written less clearly on their faces. Thankfully, there were some good staff and volunteers at the shelter who showered them with attention, as devoted to them as Tyra was to the dogs.

  And then there was the small animal room. The shelter didn’t get much of anything but dogs and cats, so all of these critters got lumped together. As a manager who primarily worked with the dogs, Tyra didn’t spend much time with them—there were some volunteers who specialized in working with exotics, as well as a manager assigned to them—but she did pop in from time to time, fondly remembering the two rabbits she’d had in her sixth grade classroom.

  She slipped into the room where the puppies were being kept in a playpen and stepped inside it, taking a moment to clean up a puddle. Messes never annoyed her like they annoyed some others, which was a blessing—she’d have had a hard time working here if they did.

  The puppies were only now learning to interact with humans, but they were curious and cuddly, and they stumbled over to her, crawling into her lap. They were both boys, and were approaching the age at which they’d have to be neutered and get some more shots. After that, they’d be ready to adopt.

  Tyra observed them as they vied for her attention, trying to figure out what breeds they had in them. It was a total guessing game with some of these dogs, as combinations of some breeds turned out to look like others entirely. But the merle fur, floppy ears, and overall shape made them look like their dad had to have been an Australian Shepherd.

  So that meant they’d be pretty sweet-tempered, intelligent dogs. They’d be energetic and easy to train, perfect for adopting out. One of them seemed a little bolder than the other, which was normal—there was always a dominant one, she’d noticed. The other seemed more content to curl up in her lap and try to chew on her shirt.

  “Hey, hey,” said Tyra, working the fabric away from the puppy’s mouth. “I know you’re mouthy. How about this?”

  She picked up a bright purple rubber bone and placed it in front of the puppy, who went to work on it as if he hadn’t been interrupted. Tyra couldn’t help but laugh.

  She also couldn’t help but think of Leah. She was just as playful and good-natured as these guys, but she wouldn’t garner attention simply due to her age. If she didn’t live in a place that disallowed pets, Tyra would have brought her home with her the instant they became friends. But the condo was the only place she could afford, and apart from that stipulation, its location and features were perfect. It was close to the shelter, so she saved on gas—an important detail in a nonprofit worker’s budget.

  Maybe someday.

  For now, it was enough that she got to spend time with all the pups at the shelter. She looked down to see that the shyer dog had started to doze off in her lap. Her heart melted, and she knew right then that she was going to develop a soft spot for this one.

  It didn’t help that they came from a tough situation. Their mother had been the victim of a disgusting backyard breeding operation, and they’d been found in a filthy crate, with dirty water and little food. The mother had been placed in an experienced foster home, as she needed closer attention due to her myriad health problems. Tyra’s blood still heated up when she remembered their condition when they’d arrived at the shelter.

  But they were safe now. They were going to find homes. The puppies were adorable and sweet, and the mother was young enough that she’d find a home easily. They’d be okay.

  She checked her phone for the time. It was about time she headed home. As much as she enjoyed working at the shelter, she needed her own space. She kept her condo neat and clean and organized, a haven from the noise and chaos of the shelter. But it felt lonely sometimes, and not just because the landlord didn’t allow pets.

  She got up and sighed, making sure the puppies had clean water in their bowl. She initialed their clipboard and made a couple of notes about their temperaments, then headed to the back office to grab her jacket and purse, noting how cluttered this room was as well. The conversation with Tina earlier had made it apparent that the shelter really needed the funding. They had only just managed for too long.

  But the budget proposal would go through. It’d be okay. And they’d be set again for another year.

  2

  Jackie

  “Which one do you want?” Jackie asked patiently. “You can have any color you like.”

  She was crouched down to Mia’s level, watching her consider the choices in front of her. She was trying to hide her frustration, but it was getting difficult. Mia was not a decisive child.

  She blinked at her, lost, uncertain of which color of blanket to choose. Jackie had read that allowing adopted kids to pick out their own things helped them feel more secure. But so far, that hadn’t been working at all with Mia. The choices seemed to overwhelm her.

  “How about purple to match your cushions?” she suggested. “Or maybe pink to go with the canopy on your bed?”

  Mia seemed to be a little more focused now, and stepped forward to feel one of the blankets. “I don’t know,” she said finally, sounding just as frustrated with the situation as Jackie did.

  Jackie was scared to make a choice for her because she didn’t want to seem like she was intruding on what should be the decorating of a space that was all her own. But then, Mia was only seven years old. Her energy was waning.

  “How about we go with the pink,” Jackie said. “I think it’ll look great with the canopy. What do you say?”

  Mia nodded vigorously, clearly glad she hadn’t had to make the choice. Jackie picked up
the blanket and threw it in the cart. They still had a lot more things to buy, and if she was going to have a hard time with them, then, well, this shopping trip was going to take a long time indeed.

  Jackie pushed the cart along the aisle, Mia following behind like a puppy, her eyes darting all around the store. Jackie had been aware that taking in an older child would have its own unique challenges, but it was like there was a new problem popping up every day. She knew she was up for it, but still. It could be emotionally taxing.

  And she didn’t have a partner to share duties with. That would have made things easier. It would have made adopting Mia in the first place easier, too. She’d been lucky getting her at all, but between her stellar reputation and references, high income, and flexible work hours, the agency had chosen her. Other single adoptive parents weren’t usually so fortunate. In fact, they’d almost turned her down before even receiving her application, but she’d somehow convinced them to give her a chance.

  And now she had Mia. It was just last month that she’d come home. She’d asked her what she liked when she met her at the adoption agency and Mia had said princesses. So she’d put her full effort into creating a princess-themed bedroom for her. When Mia had first sighted it, a small smile crept across her face, but Jackie could tell she was overwhelmed.

  She had no idea what Mia’s foster home had been like, but it couldn’t have been good, based on what her caseworker had implied. And she’d been in the system for years, almost since she was an infant. Jackie had known she’d wanted to adopt a kid from the foster system—someone who already existed and need her help—and now she had Mia.

  “Now we just have to pick out some clothes,” Jackie said. “We’re going to have to get you a bathing suit if you want to use my pool. You ever go swimming?”

  She looked down at Mia, who stared back, nodding. “Don’t know how to swim, though.”