Chihuahua Conspiracy

Chapter Four

Paisley and I trotted into the Glendale Animal Shelter around lunchtime. A pudgy older woman greeted us from behind a battered oak desk tucked into the corner of the entryway at the very moment we arrived.

“Welcome! Welcome!” she crooned. Then, shooting her gaze toward Paisley, she cleared her throat, dropped it a few notes, and said, “Hey, I recognize you, little dog. You aren’t bringing her back. Are you? Was something wrong at home?”

Paisley scuttled back to cower behind my leg, shivering violently as I’d already come to realize was her way whenever anything either upset or excited her.

“No, of course not!” I assured them both. “We’re just here for a little visit is all. Actually, is there someone I can speak with about maybe putting in some volunteer hours?”

The other woman’s entire countenance lit up at this. “Oh, how lovely! Yes, yes, let me just take you back to our Community Outreach Coordinator’s office so the two of you can have a little chat.”

I nodded my agreement, then followed her through a set of double doors into the behind-the-scenes area of the shelter.

Paisley pranced alongside me, stopping frequently to sniff at the air or press her quivering nose to the floor. “It all smells exactly the same as it did yesterday,” she mused. “Oh, can you believe it, Mommy?”

I could believe it; I could believe it very easily but chose not to say anything that might dampen the little dog’s spirits. Instead, I held my tongue as our guide led us down a long, narrow room filled wall-to-wall on each side with floor-to-ceiling kennels. Sure enough, many of the dogs were housed several to a cage, just as Paisley had described the night before.

“Hey, Chihuahua! What are you doing back in this awful place?” a black Labrador mix called after us, then pushed his snout through the metal caging and whined.

“Haha. Just visiting!” Paisley cried happily. “I have two new humans. This one even talks,” she added, referring to me as we continued to follow the front desk volunteer deeper and deeper into the shelter.

“It talks?” a fluffy little dog asked in a high-pitched voice. “Really?”

“Really. And it’s a girl, so say she. That’s the polite thing to do.” Paisley followed up her answer by nudging my leg with her cold nose. “Hey, Mommy. Say something to our friends!”

I coughed and widened my eyes at Paisley, giving my head a subtle shake that I sincerely hoped she would understand. She was still very new to our home and didn’t yet seem to understand that I couldn’t exactly out my ability in front of unknown humans. I’d have to explain how everything worked once the two of us had some privacy. Hopefully, she wouldn’t be too embarrassed by my unexpected unwillingness to perform my neat human trick for the other shelter dogs.

“Here we are,” our guide said brightly, rescuing me from that disappointed look on my sweet doggo’s face. “You’ll find Mr. Leavitt straight through that door.”

“Thank you,” I said, reaching out to shake the woman’s hand.

“My name’s Pearl,” she offered with a friendly smile. “And it’s my pleasure to assist. I’ll be just up front, should you have any questions for me before you go. Good luck!”

I watched Pearl zoom away, somewhat confused by the fact that she’d wished me good luck. Didn’t places like this always need a steady stream of volunteers?

The dogs behind us began to bark in earnest. I tried to understand what they were saying, but too many voices mixed together for me to make out any single thread. Suddenly, I felt very anxious as I raised my fist to knock on the office door before me.

“Come in,” someone—presumably Mr. Leavitt—called.

I scooped Paisley into my arms, then pushed the door open. At the same exact time, the fluorescent lights overhead flickered on, off, on, and then at last off again. The long room filled with kennels fell completely dark and silent, but the small office before me had a steady stream of sunlight wafting in from the large row of windows along the back wall.

“Hello,” I said shyly. “If this is a bad time, I can come back later.”

The man behind the desk glanced up at me with a welcoming grin. Shockingly, he appeared to be about my age—late twenties, maybe early thirties. For some reason, I’d expected someone far older. Maybe it was the fact that the gray-haired woman I’d just met had chosen to refer to him as a Mr.

He stood and extended a hand in my direction. “You mean the lights? Nah, that happens all the time. Come on in all the way, take a seat, and tell me what I can do for you.” His blue eyes shone as our hands made contact, and I swear I felt a tiny spark jump from his skin to mine.

I didn’t find Mr. Leavitt particularly attractive, but there was something about him that was inescapably alluring. If this whole Community Outreach Coordinator gig fell through, I’m sure he’d have a long and prosperous career in Hollywood, D.C., or even the boardroom. He’d fit in easily anywhere charisma was valued and rewarded.

“I know this guy,” Paisley said from atop my lap after I’d taken a moment to get settled in one of the padded chairs opposite Mr. Leavitt’s desk. “He’d play with us sometimes. And he brought lots of people by to visit. Sometimes they would play with us, too.”

I patted the dog’s head instead of answering her directly. Keeping my hand there, I directed my attention back toward the only other human in the room. “As you can see, my Nan and I adopted this sweet little girl from your shelter. And, well, we’re just so happy to have her that I wanted to pay it forward somewhere.”

Mr. Leavitt nodded and folded his hands on the desk before him. “Pay it forward? How so?”

“Could you use any volunteers? I kind of have a way with animals.” Of course that was the understatement of the year, but there was no way I was telling this guy the truth about my hidden abilities.

“That’s very kind of you, Miss…?” He paused and flashed me a disarming grin.

“Russo,” I offered, hating that heat was now rising to my cheeks. “Angie Russo. Hi.”

He winked and leaned back in his chair, putting me at ease once more. “As I was saying, that’s very kind of you for wanting to help. You probably noticed we’re a bit overcrowded at the moment.”

I nodded again. “Yes, that’s why I thought I could help.”

The lights flickered again, illuminating a small lamp on the edge of Mr. Leavitt’s desk. He studied it for a moment, then frowned thoughtfully. “We’re just as overcrowded with volunteers as we are animals. But I’m afraid it may not be enough.”

My heart dropped straight onto the linoleum floor beneath my chair. “Is everything okay?” I whispered, wishing the sensitive little dog in my lap didn’t have to be here for whatever came next in our conversation.

Mr. Leavitt offered an even wider smile than before. “Of course, everything’s okay. At least it is for now. Just a bit of growing pains, if you will. You see, at present, we have more animals and more staff, but not more money. It makes covering all our expenses a bit tricky, but we’ll manage. We always do.”

Was I actually being dismissed? Had Mr. Leavitt somehow decided that my help wasn’t good enough? That rankled me and suddenly made me desperate to contribute in any way I could.

“That’s good to hear, but still I’d like to do something,” I argued, giving him my best, most placating smile. “Would a donation be better than volunteering right now?”

He shook his head and let out a low sigh. “Oh, no, no, no. You don’t have to do that. I wasn’t trying to suggest—”

I chuckled as I fished around in my purse for my checkbook. Mr. Leavitt was obviously a proud man, but this was a community shelter, and I was part of said community. I owed it to the animals to make sure they had enough to eat, drink, and keep a roof over their heads. “I know you weren’t, but I’m already here anyway and I want to help,” I said with a shrug.

“Well, if you insist, then it would be wrong of me to say no. Thank you so much for being willing to help these wonderful animals.”

Mr. Leavitt told me the information I needed to fill out my check and then accepted it with an outpouring of gratitude. “You’re a good woman, Angie Russo. I can tell this little one is very lucky to have landed a place in your home,” he said, scratching the mostly black Chihuahua in the center of her forehead.

And for once I didn’t argue. Paisley was lucky to have us. I knew that better than ever now that I’d seen the alternative. Now, if only there was something more I could do to help the others who hadn’t yet found their forever homes…