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I have a very big, very mean shepherd in here and she’ll-”
“Attack me if I try anything funny.” he finished for me. “I’m Logan, by the way.”
“Juliette.”
Warily, I let him step into the small living room, barely giving him room to slip through the door. Sadie was on her feet in seconds and staring up at him like she was waiting for him to either attack me like a mad man or crouch down and give her the attention that she was always seeking.
I turned on my heel and stepped into the kitchen, placing the wrapped up puppy on the small granite counter before walking into the small bathroom that was off to the side of the kitchen. Then again, everything about my house was small and I loved it.
Living in a houseboat was a risky move, I knew that as well as anyone. But the second I saw the small, two floor floating home I knew I had to have it. Hardwood floors, enough kitchen space that I wouldn’t struggle and a loft style bedroom upstairs left me feeling like I didn’t need anything else. So, doing the first impulsive thing I’d ever done, I put a deposit down with the small inheritance Gran had left me in her will.
That was three years ago and I never regretted it. It was difficult to get used to at first and nobody warned me about how nauseous I’d feel from the home rocking back and forth, especially when the water was choppy. It was a problem that was easily fixed when I installed some boat stabilizers and now I could barely feel the movement. Over the last three years I’d made the place my own, hanging photos of me and Gran, Sadie, and old pictures from when I was a kid. My bedroom was decorated ivory and blue. Peaceful. The kind of peaceful that I needed after losing my grandmother.
I opened the medicine cabinet and started taking things out. Gauze, tape, neosporin, peroxide. Flea and tick treatment. Most of the supplies would normally be used on a human but, depending on the puppy’s injuries, I could get by with what I had.When I walked back into the kitchen I saw that Sadie was standing on her hind legs with her front paws on the counter as she stared curiously at the puppy who cowered into the shirt that presumably Logan had been wearing when he got home.
“Okay, so I need to figure out how bad its injuries are. Can you take it out of the shirt?”
I dropped my supplies on the counter as Logan carefully scooped the puppy out of the shirt. The poor thing was shaking with its small brown and white ears flopping forward and its skinny legs shaking. I immediately noticed three cuts excluding the one I previously saw on its head.
“Is she gonna be okay?” Logan asked.
“He.”
“What?”
“He’s a male. He has testicles,” I pointed towards the dog’s tail and watched as he gently flipped the dog around.
“Wow, yeah. He’s definitely a he.”
I couldn’t hold back the small laugh that escaped me as I began opening products. Every time I rubbed a peroxide soaked gauze pad on a wound, the puppy let out a small whine and began to shake. Guilt swamped me but I tried to find comfort in the fact that I was helping him, that I was healing him.
From what I could tell there didn’t seem to be any broken bones. The dog could walk, albeit shakily, and was a brave one as he shimmied his way across the counter. His tail eventually came out from between his legs and it helped put me at ease to know that he wasn’t in fear of being hurt again. Plus, he was adorable to the point that I was practically making heart eyes at him. He definitely wasn’t a pure bred, but I could see a little bit of pitbull and a little bit of what looked like some sort of spaniel with the floppy ears and soft fur.
“You’re a good boy, huh?” I cooed and scratched under his chin, smiling when hs wiry little tail began to wag. “I’m going to give you enough dog food to last until tomorrow, but I’d really appreciate if you filed a report with the police so that I don’t have to.” I said and looked at Logan.
He nodded his head and mumbled a quiet “Thank you.” I noticed that his eyes didn’t leave the injured dog and I couldn’t help but think that maybe he felt some sort of kinship to the animal. A little beat up, a little tired.
I also couldn’t shake the feeling that I was about to get myself into a whole lot of trouble.
Chapter 2
“L ogan? Logan Ashford?” Rose asked me the next day as we walked a few of the rescue dogs back to the farm.
I tugged my beanie lower over my head as the wind whipped my red hair around. Winter was approaching quickly and we only had a few more walks in the woods before the snow hit and the animals were stuck hanging out closer to the farm.
Lady, an older golden retriever, fell back and walked alongside me as if she too wanted to hear the conversation.
“Yeah, do you know him?”
“No, but I know the name. Doesn’t his family own Port James?”
I barked out a laugh and shook my head, tugging on a few leashes to keep the smaller dogs from tugging too hard and choking themselves. “No, but they do a lot around town. I don’t know much about them, just that they’re a prominent family. I read about his sister a lot over the summer.”
“Port James seems weird, man. I’m glad I don’t live there.”
Arden Farm and Rescue was located outside of Port James and a little closer to the city. It was owned and operated by fraternal twin sisters Rose and Violet Arden, and over the years had become a safe haven for injured, abused and neglected pets. They took in anything from dogs to cats to a few horses. There were even a few odd rescues thrown in that lived in the main house with the girls, such as a hedgehog named Spike and a blue tongued lizard named Mango.
It was my dream job.
