Yet, he was right about what we had between us. “I know you want me to take you at your word. That you think I’ve always got my guard up, but I’m not the only one, Brody. If you decide to want to tell me your side of the stories, I’ll listen and try not to judge.”
His expression turned thoughtful as he adjusted the bill of his ball cap and seemed to mull over my offer. With a soft nod, he climbed out of the truck and the two of us went inside to tell the others about the orange and black truck that escaped.
Chapter Seventeen
The Care and Maintenance of Damaged People:
A Dog’s Guide to Rescued Humans
Brody
It was hot as balls outside. Texas in July was miserable, I didn’t give a shit what anyone said. I’d lived here my whole life and I barely tolerated it. With training camp a week away, Hayes and I had only one pet shop left on our list in the immediate vicinity. We could always widen the circle later if we needed to. We both had our roles down pat, but each one of these shops made my stomach roll now that I knew where the puppies came from.
Hayes pulled the door open, a bell dinging overhead. We walked past the toys and birds in their cages, through damp air heavy with the smell of newspaper and urine. Guinea pigs darted away from their glass as we walked by while ferrets slept in an aquarium that needed to be cleaned. Hayes nodded toward the rows of kennels against at the back. A glass wall separated them from the rest of the shop.
All Puppies 20% Off was scrawled on the glass in brightly colored window paint. There must have been forty kennels total. Only a few were empty awaiting their next tenant. Some puppies slept curled in balls on top of wadded up blankets while others walked gingerly over their grated kennel floor, waste pans below them for easy cleaning. A few barked incessantly. A few had toys. Most didn’t. Several kennels had sale signs clipped to the front: Rare Lilac Merle French Bulldog, $4800 For a Limited Time.
He was older than some of the other pups.
Another read American Staffordshire Terrier On Sale! $2000. He was older, too, and crammed in a kennel he could barely stand up in. Then there were the younger ones. The ones that were barely old enough to be weaned.
My teeth ground together as I took in the Bull Terriers and Pit Bulls. A Dogo Argentino and South African Boerboel. Bulldogs. Boxers. Boston Terriers. Doodles of all kinds. Each place we’d been to in the past couple of weeks had some version of this set up.
Each time, I had to fight the urge to slap a card on the counter and buy every dog here. Or beat the holy hell out of whoever owned the place.
But that defeated the purpose. Buying the dogs here would only line their pockets and perpetuate the cycle. Lily taught me the only way to put a stop to the mills was to stop making it profitable.
Stop buying.
Hayes nudged my shoulder, nodded at a Basset Hound pup who kept circling his kennel trying to find a place to lie somewhere other than on the exposed bars. When he turned to me, I knew he was having a moment. He wanted to take the pain away but knew why he shouldn’t, too.
“Hiya, see a pup you’re interested in?” The dude was short and a little round, he wore a blue shirt with the pet store’s name embroidered on the pocket. “We’ve got visiting rooms back here, you can spend some time with one of them if you like.” He sat the rabbit he was carrying into a glass habitat filled with bedding and three other rabbits.
I affixed my fake smile. “Possibly.”
His face went slack, eyes like silver dollars. We’d seen this in several of the places we’d been to, but the awe factor hadn’t gotten us the information we needed.
“Good God Almighty. You’re number fifty-eight!”
“I am,” I said affably. “This is my teammate, Hayes Walker.” I nodded to the man next to me, who wasn’t smiling. Instead, he crossed his arms over his chest and tipped his chin. I knew that look. If Hayes spoke, he was going to go batshit on the guy.
“We were checking out the pups. Got lots of bully breeds,” I said, gesturing to the kennels.
The guy rushed forward, sticking out his hand. I only shook it because I didn’t have a choice. “It’s an honor to meet you two!” One look at Hayes, and the dude thought better of offering his hand to him.
“I’m a huge Dallas Bulldogs fan. I’m the Bulldogs’ biggest fan.” Hands settling on his hips, his smile was wide and genuine.
We could use this. “Well then, it’s an honor to meet you...” His nametag said Randall with Sales Manager printed underneath. “... Randall. So, lots of bully breeds, huh?”
“Yeah, is that what you’re after? We’ve got some rare breeds, too. Lots of folks wanting bullies around here. That, and the doodles, and anything that says, ‘Teacup’. Are you looking for something unusual? Did you see the Lilac Frenchy? They’re going for eight large in L.A. Maybe a bulldog for the Bulldog?”
Hayes grunted again, turned back to watch the Basset Hound puppy circling.
“Oh, he’s beautiful for sure. Why’s he on sale?”
Randall’s mouth screwed up. “Eh, he’s almost four months old. But his parents were AKC champions.”
My bullshit meter went on high alert. Sure, they were. “Actually, I was hoping to find Cane Corsos.” I deliberately didn’t use the correct plural.
Randall’s mouth formed a little O. “You wanting to breed your dog?”
He’d seen the news. “No, not her. I put her down after that, but I have some property north of here and I’d like to have a breeding pair.”
“What’d you want to breed for? Just for you or are you selling? Maybe you had something else in mind?”
I put on my biggest, friendliest aww shucks smile, thickening my accent. “Well, now. That there’s my business.”
He chuckled, probably thinking it was for fighting. “True enough.”
“You wouldn’t have any breeder names, would you? Maybe of somebody willing to sell off some of their breeding stock? Not that the pups aren’t cute, but I’d like to get started sooner rather than later.”
“Hmm.” His mouth pulled tight as he studied me and Hayes. “Don’t generally do that here. Could get me in trouble with the owner.”
“Tell you what, Randall? Let’s do this. I’ve got a couple of footballs in the truck Hayes and I could sign for you. The owner would never have to know.”
He was tempted, but I could see the hesitance. “I don’t know, man. That could get me fired. I’m supposed to be selling the dogs we got here, but we won’t be getting any Canes in for a while. What about a Pit, instead?”