Read Online Strays by Jennifer Caloyeras - Free Book Online Page B

hysterical,” said Randy. “You got the dog to run away in two seconds flat!”
    â€œWhy’d you kick him?” asked Talbot.
    The waters rose quickly.
    â€œShe didn’t kick him,” said Oak. At least someone had been watching.
    â€œHe was coming after my feet.” I could feel myself start to hyperventilate.
    Kevin returned with the stupid dog in tow. “I’d like everyone to sit down again.”
    The wet grass seeped through my pants. I hoped that when I got up, it wouldn’t look like I had gone to the bathroom.
    â€œLike I said, these dogs have a history,” said Kevin. “It’s our job to take that experience and figure out the best way to relate to the animal.”
    â€œI didn’t kick the dog,” I said. My caffeine buzz was wearing off, as was my patience with that girl with the pink hair. Who did she think she was, pointing a finger at me without even knowing me?
    â€œYes, you did,” said Talbot.
    I was tired of being quiet—tired of being wrongly accused. Everyone thought I was violent anyway. Wasn’t that what they were saying about me?
    Before I knew it, I’d sprung to my feet, heat emanating from my body. I towered over her. I had all the power. Leaning down toward her, I watched with satisfaction as she cowered.
    â€œI didn’t kick the dog,” I practically spat in her face. Adrenaline coursed through my body.
    Before I knew it, Kevin was occupying what little space remained between the two of us. “That’s enough, Iris. Come sit over here.”
    My heart was still thumping as he led me to my new seat between Oak and Randy.
    â€œShe didn’t mean to make contact with the dog,” Kevin said to Talbot. “What I saw was someone who was perhaps a bit nervous shuffle her feet when an eighty-pound pit bull approached. Now let’s end this.”
    I couldn’t have said it better.
    â€œHowever,” said Kevin.
    Oh, boy.
    â€œKnowing Roman’s history, we have to remember that his owner was abusive. When he would go to lift his leg, it more often than not came down on Roman’s back. Or as a kick to the face. So the dog is reacting to his own experience. Our job is to retrain these dogs to trust humans. We need to rewrite their histories so that they see us as the good guys and not as the enemy.”
    Rewriting history? What a joke. It wasn’t even possible. Didn’t Kevin know that everyone wanted to rewrite history? Everyone had something in their past that they wished they could make disappear. Of course I would have liked to rewrite history so that I passed my English final and I didn’t have to spend the summer here. If I could, I’d go back in time and make it so that Mrs. Schneider never found my list, or, better yet, make it so that my mom never got in that car two years ago.
    â€œWhat about the rest of them?” asked Randy, Tinkerbelle resting in his lap.
    Kevin knew all of their histories. “Well, Bruce here was a street dog. He was found extremely emaciated. We don’t know if he ever had a real home. And Persia’s owner”—he motioned toward Oak’s German shepherd—“was a drug dealer. Persia came to us with a bullet in his shoulder. You’ll notice he has a bit of a limp. And Tinkerbelle, well, she was a prize-winning breeding dog forced to litter puppies year after year.”
    â€œIs that why she has those funny things dangling from her?” asked Randy.
    â€œThose are teats,” I said.
    â€œIt’s where she produced milk,” added Kevin.
    Randy looked down to further inspect. “Gross!” He lifted the dog off of his lap.
    â€œDid you grow up on a farm?” asked Oak.
    I realized I must have sounded strange to be so scared of dogs and yet know random names for their anatomy. “ Animal Planet junkie,” I said quietly.
    He nodded as though he understood exactly what I meant. “History