Born to Die - Lisa Jackson [79]
“No, no. I was hoping to see the dogs that are up for adoption.”
“Oh, uh, sure.” The girl glanced at the round clock mounted over the back doorway, a gesture intended to remind Kacey of the late hour. “Sure, uh, all the dogs are in the back. You’ll need to fill out these forms.” She found a packet of papers titled ADOPTION APPLICATION and slid the stapled pages and a pen across the counter, then continued with her work.
As Kacey was filling out the paperwork, a slim woman appeared in the open archway behind the reception area. Her long black hair was clipped at her nape, and her tawny skin and bladed cheekbones hinted at her Native American heritage. Kacey recognized her as the local vet, Jordan Eagle.
“Amber,” she said, bustling into the reception area in her lab coat, “I just got a call from Trace O’Halleran. He’s bringing in his dog, an emergency of some kind, and he should be here within ten minutes.”
O’Halleran was coming here? Ridiculously, Kacey’s heart skipped a stupid beat as Amber, shoulders slumped, sighed and slid another look at the clock. She frowned. “But I have—”
“Please just stay until he gets here. Then I’ll lock up.” The vet was stern, and Amber gave an agonized, acquiescing shrug.
“Fine.”
“Go ahead and finish up the receipts for the day, and you can leave as soon as the injured dog is brought in.” Jordan Eagle’s gaze moved to Kacey and the forms she’d begun completing. “You’re looking to adopt?” Her face softened a tad.
Nodding, Kacey introduced herself, then explained, “I don’t think I’m interested in a puppy, but I would like a medium-sized dog, one that’s housebroken and good with kids and other animals.” For just a second she remembered her fears that someone had been in her house and the reasons she’d decided, despite all her arguments against it, to find a dog. “I’m interested in a dog that seems a little more intimidating than he really is. One that will bark if there’s an intruder, but not attack a neighbor kid on a bike or go out of his head barking at squirrels running along the roof.”
The vet actually smiled. “Oh, you only want the perfect pet.”
“That would be nice. Yeah.”
As she closed the till, Amber rolled her eyes.
If her boss noticed, she ignored the girl’s passive-aggressive attitude. Cocking her head toward the archway behind the desk, Jordan added, “Come on through the back way and let me introduce you to Bonzi.”
Amber immediately perked up. “Oh . . . Bonzi! He’s the best!”
“That he is. Buzz me when the O’Halleran dog gets here,” she instructed, then said to Kacey, “This way.” With quick, sharp footsteps she led the way, whisking Kacey through a labyrinth of rooms. “Unfortunately, we’ve got a lot of dogs right now,” the vet said, frowning as she led Kacey past an examination room, then a surgery station and an area with deep sinks where the animals were bathed.
A few cats and dogs who were under the vet’s care watched from their cages as Jordan swept into another hallway to another part of the connected buildings, where the animals for adoption were kept.
At the sound of the door opening, a cacophony of barks and yips echoed to the rafters. “An enthusiastic lot,” the vet said. They walked into a large room with several rows of kennels. “This is where we keep the animals that aren’t being foster-cared,” Jordan explained. “After they’re given a health exam and their vaccinations. This is meant to be a temporary spot. We always try to place all the adoptable animals with foster families before they find their forever home, but right now we’re on overload.” She walked along a short aisle, touching a few wet noses pressed toward her. “I’d adopt them all if I could, but ... we do what we can. Here we go. This is Bonzi, breed undetermined, a regular Heinz Fifty-seven though if I had to guess, I’d say, probably boxer, pit bull and, oh, maybe a ridgeback somewhere back in his lineage. He’s about three or four, and docile and sweet, though his bark is pretty scary. Hey, there, Bonz,” she said, opening the cage and snapping