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| blonds soon - I swaear |
We headed toward the county animal control office to see if she were chipped. It would be the fastest and easiest way to get her home. If not, I'd spend the day plastering the neighborhood with her mug shot and a blurb about how to find me. There's a very distinct reason I don't like former girlfriends or dates to find me; for years I preferred serial monogamy over the white picket fence kind of monogamy. More than one of the fore mentioned girlfriends didn't take it well to find out that my typical recovery time was about three days; if they suffered, they wanted me to suffer or at least play along with a similar charade. Then there would be the newspapers, Craigslist, and other internet sites to reunite dog and owner.
It wasn't that I am not detail oriented. Sober I'm fabulous. Hungover? Not so fabulous. I gave up drinking for personal reasons when I was twenty-five, it had nothing to do with rampant over consumption. Last night when I fell off the wagon, I really fell off. Too bad I forgot just how much my head hurt the morning after.
Turned out that she was registered to a Jesus Martinez at the Riverdale Senior Living Facility. And, yep, she had been registered under the name Jesse's Girl. There was no answer when I called, so thought it might be a great idea to deliver her as a surprise.
I hadn't even entered the complex before I was stopped by the security guard.
"Who are you here to visit?" she asked.
"I was hoping to see Mr. Martinez. Jesus Martinez," I said. I reached behind my seat and patted the dog's head. "I've got a surprise for him."
She consulted a sheet of paper and scowled. "Are you family? Mister - what did you say your name was?"
"I'm Gabriel Adler. And no, I'm not family. I think I found his dog last night." I unbuckled my seatbelt and attempted to reach for my wallet.
"Ah, you found Hazel," she said. "Is she with you? Can I see her?"
So she had a name. Hazel. A little old fashioned, but nice.
She reached a hand through the backseat and fondled the dog's ears and scratched her chest. "Hey, little girl. I've missed you. Such a sweetie," she said. She returned to her place in the guard station and said, "Mr. Martinez passed away three days ago. She was his only family at the end."
"So she's an orphan now? Do you want her?"
"I can't take her, I live in a cramped apartment. And there aren't supposed to be any animals here. Mr. Martinez was a long time resident and they made an exception for him."
Great.
"You aren't going to turn her over to the pound are you?" she asked. "I mean, she's sweet and gentle, and since she's pregnant, they won't want her."
Pregnant?
"What?"
"Pregnant. Expecting puppies. Didn't you notice how swollen her belly was?"
Even better. Now I had a young, pregnant puppy whose owner had died. Nieves was going to shit a brick or become broody herself. Manny was going to kill me.
"Fuck."
"She escaped a couple of months ago when she went into heat. So, yeah, that about covers it. Look, you need to go. There's a line behind you. Saturday is a big visiting day around here."
Here's your hat. What's your hurry? "Thanks."
I've spent my adult life avoiding the pregnant, broody, breeding type. As soon as any woman ever made mention of babies, I was gone. Harry Houdini of commitment. Wouldn't my former in-laws laugh their asses off now? I had a pregnant female under my charge that I didn't know and was now totally responsible for.
"Hazel, looks like it's going to be you and me, kid. How do you feel about onion rings?"
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total word count 687
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