Exit Wounds - J. A. Jance [25]
“They help some,” she said. “If nothing else, they keep the air circulating.”
Inside the building, Joanna and Jeannine walked through a hallway lined with cat cages. Most of those were full as well. Animal Control’s ramshackle office was furnished with discarded, mismatched furniture that had seen better days. Joanna soon realized the office wasn’t air-conditioned, either. An old swamp cooler halfheartedly blew tepid air and the odor of mildew into the room as Jeannine sat down behind a scarred wooden desk.
“We should have two full-time kennel attendants,” she told Joanna. “Since we only have one, Manny and I end up doing kennel duty when we should be out on patrol. If somebody actually wants to adopt a dog, we have to be paged so we can come back and handle the paperwork. It’s no surprise that so few dogs get adopted.
“Before she left, Donna Merrick had all kinds of bright ideas. She had met with several local veterinarians and was hoping to get the county to contract with them for low-cost spaying and neutering. Donna thought we’d have better luck finding homes for animals if we brought the animals to the people instead of waiting for people to come to us. She had even talked to some of the local store managers about having adoption clinics on Saturday mornings. Donna wanted to pay for a dog groomer so the animals would be cleaned up and looking good the mornings of the clinics.”
“Sounds good to me,” Joanna said. “What happened?”
“Donna talked the idea up and the Wal-Mart managers in Douglas and Sierra Vista were all for it. So was the manager of the Safeway store here in town. But when the board of supervisors heard about it, they wouldn’t even consider it. Said that running adoption clinics went beyond our ‘legal mandate’ and that the taxpayers would think it a waste of money. And, once Donna went up against the board, the next thing we knew, she was gone. Now we’re part of the sheriff’s department, and we’re even more shorthanded than before.”
“So I guess we need to do something about this,” Joanna said when she finished.
Jeannine nodded. “Yes, we do,” she said, but she didn’t sound convinced that anything would change.
“How long have you worked here?” Joanna asked.
“Eight years.”
“And Manny?”
“Six.”
Joanna nodded. “So what do you want me to do about the puppy? Should I bring him back here? I offered him to Carol Mossman’s mother, but she didn’t want him. The place where she lives doesn’t allow pets.”
“Manny said you’d already named him,” Jeannine said.
“I thought he was lucky, so that’s what I named him—Lucky.”
“Go ahead and keep him,” Jeannine said in exasperation. “Since he’s already got a home, there’s not much sense bringing him back here. You’re supposed to have him properly licensed, once he has his shots, and he’ll need to be neutered.”
“Right,” Joanna said. “We’ll take care of it.”
“Good enough,” Jeannine said.
Joanna stood and started toward the door. Then she stopped and turned back. “How long has that little Australian shepherd been here?” she asked. “The one in that last bunch of kennels.”
“Oh,” Jeannine said. “You mean Little Blue Eyes?”
“Yes.”
“Three days,” Jeannine replied. “She’ll be gone tomorrow.”
“Gone as in adopted?” Joanna asked.
“No,” Jeannine said. “Gone as in gone.”
Sheriff Joanna Brady thought about that, but not for long. Butch won’t mind, she thought. “My husband and I live on a ranch out on High Lonesome Road,” she said. “There’s plenty of room for dogs.”
Jeannine Phillips’s sullen expression brightened slightly. “You mean you’d like to take her?”
“Yes,” Joanna said. “I think I would.”
“She’ll need to have her shots, too, and be licensed.”
“And spayed,” Joanna added.
“No,” Jeannine said, “you won’t have to worry about that. She’s already been fixed. But you should know, she doesn’t like men much—not even Manny, and he’s a real sweetheart when it comes to dogs.