Read Online The More the Terrier by Linda O. Johnston - Free Book Online
Authors: Linda O. Johnston
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down the plantation’s steps and through those huge front gates.
When we were finally out of there, I said, “When did you get out of the hospital? And what are you doing here?”
“They released me,” she said softly. “At last. They told me things like I should get counseling because of my . . . something disorder.”
“Obsessive-compulsive?” I suggested.
“Or Humpty Dumpty. It made as much sense.”
“Counseling’s a good idea,” I told her, then added, “You should listen to what they told you. You’ll feel better in the long run.”
“I’m fine now, you know. That’s why I took a taxi and came right here. A friend called on my cell to tell me about the meeting of shelter operators, and I wanted to hear. I want my shelter back.” She stopped talking, blinked, and looked at me with eyes as hopeful as starved puppies we’d taken in at HotRescues who had smelled newly opened cans of moist food for the first time. “When can I get my shelter back, Lauren?”
Her red curly hair was plastered damply around her face. Her wrinkles seemed to have multiplied and deepened. She looked so aged and pitiful that I wanted to cry.
“I don’t think you ever can,” I said sadly and truthfully.
“It’s all your fault,” she yelled, startling me. “If I’d gotten the job at HotRescues like I should have—” She stopped as quickly as if she’d bitten her tongue—which she may have done figuratively, if not literally. “I’m sorry, Lauren. I know it’s not your fault. I’m just tired. Can I go home now?”
“Of course,” I said. I’d received confirmation from the cleaning outfit I’d hired that the top-to-bottom overhaul of Mamie’s place had been accomplished as fast as I’d requested.
I drove Mamie home, silently pondering her tirade. She probably had been serious, lashing out at me because she didn’t want to accept any blame herself. She’d mentioned before that she had wanted to prove she was the best pet rescuer ever. She hadn’t had that mind-set when I’d known her but had only wanted to help as many animals as she logically could.
Had her change in attitude been the result of my being hired by Dante and not her?
I refused to let myself feel guilty even about logical things, and that kind of possible cause and effect was irrational. But if I’d insisted that we stay in touch back then, would things have been different now?
There was no use second-guessing. Dante had made the right decision. I couldn’t fix what Mamie had done. But if I stepped in, tried to help her through this, maybe I’d feel a little better about the situation.
We stopped for groceries, and then I saw her into her house.
“This place is . . . different,” she said, wonder in her tone as soon as we entered the front door. “Janice told me it would be cleaned while I was gone.” I couldn’t tell from her tone whether she was glad or sorry that the place no longer reeked like a sewer.
But as we walked farther inside, Mamie said, “I miss my babies,” so sadly that I knew without looking that she was crying again.
“I know. But you understand that things will get better for them now, don’t you?” I hoped.
“Yes,” she whispered, nodding like a child.
“And do you understand that you’re not allowed to bring in any animals at all, at least for now?”
She opened her mouth as if ready to protest, but at my unwavering glare she stared back and repeated, “Yes.”
“Would you like to come home with me tonight?” I asked impulsively when we reached the front door again, knowing I’d probably regret it if she said yes. But she didn’t.
“No, Lauren. Thank you, but I need to be alone right now.”
“You’ll be okay?”
“Yes,” she said firmly. “I’ll be fine.”
Hoping that was true, I started home.
I didn’t expect to sleep well that night, and I just dozed now and then. My mind was racing.
My landline rang around six in the morning. I grabbed it in anticipation.
When we were finally out of there, I said, “When did you get out of the hospital? And what are you doing here?”
“They released me,” she said softly. “At last. They told me things like I should get counseling because of my . . . something disorder.”
“Obsessive-compulsive?” I suggested.
“Or Humpty Dumpty. It made as much sense.”
“Counseling’s a good idea,” I told her, then added, “You should listen to what they told you. You’ll feel better in the long run.”
“I’m fine now, you know. That’s why I took a taxi and came right here. A friend called on my cell to tell me about the meeting of shelter operators, and I wanted to hear. I want my shelter back.” She stopped talking, blinked, and looked at me with eyes as hopeful as starved puppies we’d taken in at HotRescues who had smelled newly opened cans of moist food for the first time. “When can I get my shelter back, Lauren?”
Her red curly hair was plastered damply around her face. Her wrinkles seemed to have multiplied and deepened. She looked so aged and pitiful that I wanted to cry.
“I don’t think you ever can,” I said sadly and truthfully.
“It’s all your fault,” she yelled, startling me. “If I’d gotten the job at HotRescues like I should have—” She stopped as quickly as if she’d bitten her tongue—which she may have done figuratively, if not literally. “I’m sorry, Lauren. I know it’s not your fault. I’m just tired. Can I go home now?”
“Of course,” I said. I’d received confirmation from the cleaning outfit I’d hired that the top-to-bottom overhaul of Mamie’s place had been accomplished as fast as I’d requested.
I drove Mamie home, silently pondering her tirade. She probably had been serious, lashing out at me because she didn’t want to accept any blame herself. She’d mentioned before that she had wanted to prove she was the best pet rescuer ever. She hadn’t had that mind-set when I’d known her but had only wanted to help as many animals as she logically could.
Had her change in attitude been the result of my being hired by Dante and not her?
I refused to let myself feel guilty even about logical things, and that kind of possible cause and effect was irrational. But if I’d insisted that we stay in touch back then, would things have been different now?
There was no use second-guessing. Dante had made the right decision. I couldn’t fix what Mamie had done. But if I stepped in, tried to help her through this, maybe I’d feel a little better about the situation.
We stopped for groceries, and then I saw her into her house.
“This place is . . . different,” she said, wonder in her tone as soon as we entered the front door. “Janice told me it would be cleaned while I was gone.” I couldn’t tell from her tone whether she was glad or sorry that the place no longer reeked like a sewer.
But as we walked farther inside, Mamie said, “I miss my babies,” so sadly that I knew without looking that she was crying again.
“I know. But you understand that things will get better for them now, don’t you?” I hoped.
“Yes,” she whispered, nodding like a child.
“And do you understand that you’re not allowed to bring in any animals at all, at least for now?”
She opened her mouth as if ready to protest, but at my unwavering glare she stared back and repeated, “Yes.”
“Would you like to come home with me tonight?” I asked impulsively when we reached the front door again, knowing I’d probably regret it if she said yes. But she didn’t.
“No, Lauren. Thank you, but I need to be alone right now.”
“You’ll be okay?”
“Yes,” she said firmly. “I’ll be fine.”
Hoping that was true, I started home.
I didn’t expect to sleep well that night, and I just dozed now and then. My mind was racing.
My landline rang around six in the morning. I grabbed it in anticipation.
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