To Find a Home

Snow was a constant at the Bridgewater Animal Shelter. At eight human years old and weighing whatever “chonker” meant to the volunteers, Snow knew every tile, treat, and tinkle spot in the place. 

There was a new guy in the crate next door, some yippie chihuahua mix who had no interest in upholding civil conversation. He had even tried to take Snow’s favorite Lambchop toy. Lambchop! After such an offense, Snow knew there was no hope for a neighborly friendship. 

“Snow, it’s yard time!” Anna, his favorite human, clipped on his leash and led him out into the morning sun. “Here, boy,” she whispered before sneaking him a liver treat. Yeah, she was the best. 

Snow patrolled the fence as always, keeping watch for any rambunctious squirrels. There would not be a repeat of the croissant incident. Ms. Tina still hadn’t come back.

A familiar chip drew him to the back corner under the big oak tree with all the best smells. “Dog,” the crow… crowed. 

“Bird.”

“Stuck in your cage, as usual, I see.”

“It’s better than spending the day annoying everyone I meet.”

“Oh, I didn’t realize you talked to anyone but me. How nice.”

Snow turned his back to the irritating bird and began digging the perfect hole. If he had a bone, ohhh, it would fit so well. “You’re ruining my relaxing afternoon.”

The crow let out a rattling click from whatever depths he had in that feathered little body. “I just thought you would want to know that I saw her.”

Snow stopped digging. “Where? How was she? Did she say anything? Does she still like Charlie’s butt smell better than mine?”

“I didn’t speak with her.” The crow glided down from the fence and landed at Snow’s paws. “She was at the park with her new humans and some dribbling boxer. I don’t think she misses you at all.”

Snow plopped down in the loose dirt. Ruby was his neighbor before the chihuahua, a stunning long-haired Australian Shepherd with mix-matched eyes, one dark gray and one light gray. All of her was gray. So was everything else, for that matter. 

Ruby was the ideal neighbor. She was talkative without being annoying, shared her treats, and always knew the best gossip. Snow never found out what happened between Lola and Archie after Ruby was adopted, and it was driving him mad. Did they ever come back from the cheating accusations? Was Lola really pregnant? Did Archie really hurt his paw, or was it all an act to spend time with the Doberman? 

Regardless, Snow was happy for Ruby. She deserved something good. Still, part of him hoped she would come back. They had been crate-mates for all eight years he had been at the shelter, two of the oldest residents. Now it was down to Snow and Pepper. He really didn’t want to be here as long as Pepper. He was a blind sighthound who ran into so many walls over the years that he had his own special padded stall by the front desk.   

“I see,” Snow said, then dropped his nose into the half-dug hole. Ruby would’ve loved this one. 

The crow squawked out a grating laugh. “Ah, there’s the forlorn puppy look I was hoping for. Anyway, tootles!”

Snow watched him go, his mind too preoccupied to bark back as usual. Ruby was gone. He had to accept that. It was fine! He was fine. His time would come.

“Snow!” Ms. Anna called out. He trotted back over and let himself be led inside. 

“Anna, I’m glad I caught you,” Mr. Stew, the head human, said, running over. 

“Someone wants to adopt Cash.”

“Already?!” 

“They saw his picture on social media.”

“If only it was always that easy.” Snow couldn’t pinpoint it, but her saying that while patting his head felt personal. “If only that worked for you, boy.” Ah. There it was.

Mr. Stew sighed and knelt in front of Snow. He gave the man his most slobbery lick of affection. “People just don’t want to adopt older dogs.”

“But he’s such a good boy.” The rest of Ms. Anna’s words were like toy fluff in his ears. 

“People just don’t want to adopt older dogs.” The words shot around his head like a rogue tennis ball. Snow wasn’t getting any younger. According to Bucky in Crate 18, it just didn’t work like that. So, what, there was no hope? Snow would be in the same shelter, in the same crate, his whole life?

He thought of Ruby running free at the park, of that rude Chihuahua who was being sprung after just a week, of the crow whose wings took him wherever he wanted to fly. 

If no one was going to come for him, Snow would free himself.

****

Escapes were easier in theory. Realistically, he knew he had a window of time when Ms. Wendy opened his crate for breakfast. As the Best Boy for six years running–his picture was on the wall and everything–Snow ate off-leash. So, the minute Ms. Anna came in for the day, he could make a run for it.

There were two major problems with that plan. One, Snow hated running. Two, it seemed far too rude. Ms. Anna would get in trouble, and he couldn’t have that. 

An evening escape was preferable, but he had no crate-opening fingers, and his front teeth had long since been taken by the toot-fairy, or so Mr. Stew told him after he woke without them after a deep sleep. 

Snow flopped over and stared at Lambchop like he might offer a suggestion, but the little toy was all legs and no brains. Wait! All legs… that might just do it.

That night, Snow tucked one of Lambchop’s thin legs into the crack between the crate’s door and wall. When Mr. Stew latched up for the night, Snow held the toy’s leg steady. 

“Night, Snow-man!” Mr. Stew said like he always did. Unlike most nights, the latch to Snow’s crate never clicked.

He had until the human finished rounds to get out. That’s when they locked the doggie door for the day. 

Snow peeked out, first left, and then the left that was the other way. He looked left again and caught sight of his tail. It wagged, daring him to catch it, but he was a dog on a mission, so he only tried twice.

His paws tapped against the tile and he used every day of his experience at the shelter to slip past the humans and out the door.

****

He had never seen the shelter like this, not from across the street without a human at his side. It was unnatural, like walking past a pole and not peeing on it. 

Snow didn’t have time for reminiscing, so he took one last look before running–okay, meandering–down the shady sidewalk. 

He had expected it to be darker, but there was still a fair amount of sun dancing past the bustle of cars. Snow turned his gaze away from the road, else he risked spotting the most heinous of vehicles: the mail truck. He would compromise his mission if he saw one. It was in the dog code. If a mail truck you see, a bark it must be. With his current freedom, he would be required to make chase, too. So, Snow didn’t look. 

His act of not looking led him to a small park tucked behind a delightfully pungent bed of rhododendrons.  

There was a little jungle gym and a swing set up atop a bumpy hill. When was the last time Snow had seen a swing set? Five years, maybe? It was back when Mr. Stew took all the shelter residents out. Reggie the poodle got lost for an hour and ruined the whole thing. It wasn’t even that bad! He was just sleeping in a bush of fluffy white flowers, but the damage was done and they hadn’t been to the park since. 

Snow started running up the hill towards the swings, tongue flapping in the wind, when a sniffle caught his ears. He changed course to the far side of the park until he found the source. 

A girl, younger than Ms. Ana by at least six years, was crying into an older woman’s chest. 

“It’s okay, Rach, you’re still in the cast.” The woman petted the girl’s hair at the perfect angle–as the expert of pets, Snow would know.

“But Jenna got Christine! I would have been a great Christine. I’m not even Meg.”

“You would have been great, but sometimes life doesn’t put ‘easy’ on our path. Remember your first track meet?” The girl nodded and wiped the snot from her nose. “You tripped on that rock and fell flat on your face.”

“Mom! You promised not to bring that up again.”

The woman, the girl’s mom, chuckled. “But you got back up and kept running. That’s life, Rachel. You’ll just have to work even harder for the spring musical.” Another wave of tears fell from Rachel’s eyes.

Snow was never good at watching humans cry. Before the croissant incident, Ms. Tina had come in crying just once. He still didn’t know why she was so upset, but Snow sat at her feet until she wrapped herself around him and cried herself out. 

Without thinking, he did the same now. He nosed at the girl’s knee and she jolted back. 

“A… dog?”

“Does he have tags?” The mother asked.

“I don’t know. Here, puppy,” Rachel said, kneeling in front of him.

“Careful, we don’t know if he’s friendly.”

Snow huffed and leaned his face into the girl’s open hand.

“Aww, I think he is. Now, who are you?” Rachel’s delicate fingers met the soft fabric around his neck. “Snow? Is that your name?”

Snow barked.

“But… he’s a chocolate lab…” Rachel’s mom mumbled. Even Snow, a dog with limited comprehension of color and rhetoric, understood the irony. “Is there a phone number on his tags? We should make sure he gets home.”

Oh no. He had forgotten his mission! He couldn’t go back! Before Rachel could take another look at his collar, he pulled away and bolted across the grass. He heard the girl chase after him, but he pushed his old legs even faster. Dog, he hated running.

Eventually, Rachel gave up and Snow found himself at a set of glass doors. They slid open as he approached. That was an invitation, right? It must be. 

Snow trotted past an enormous desk and down the hall until he heard footsteps. No! He couldn’t let anyone find him again. He darted into an open door and panted. 

“Well, hello little thing,” an old woman said from where she lay on a low bed. “I don’t think you’re supposed to be here.” She hummed. “I don’t think I need to be here either, but after last month’s fall, I guess it’s necessary.” 

It didn’t sound like she was kicking him out. Though with how bundled up she was in that soft-looking blanket, Snow didn’t think she could do much kicking.

She might still call reinforcements. Snow could run, but he really hated running. He had done enough of it already. 

“Come here, please.” Snow felt his head tilt as he weighed his options. “I have food for you.” Well, that made things easy. 

Snow tread across the little room and hopped up onto the bed. 

“You are a sweet thing, aren’t you?” she said, petting his head. “Here. This is for you.” The woman held out a little container full of something unusual. It didn’t slosh like his water bowl or rattle like kibble did. Whatever this was… jiggled. 

“They keep bringing this no-sugar, healthy jello junk. I’m old and half blind, but I still have taste buds!” 

Snow sniffed this ‘jello.’ It was better than Cash’s rear end, at least. Besides, who knew when he’d get free food again? The first lick was hesitant, the second less so. Jello was great! 

“Glad one of us likes it.” The Old Jello Lady laughed, settling into the bed. “Stay for a while. They just did their rounds, so we have time. It’s nice to have some evening company.”

He couldn’t stay long. He was already lucky enough. Still, he didn’t want to leave her yet. Snow knew what it was like to be alone somewhere for so long. Just a few hours, he’d stay just a few hours.

****

Snow woke to the sound of whispering. Though, he always thought whispering was meant to be quiet. These were loud whispers, secrets that the teller didn’t intend to keep secret. 

“What do we do about him?”

“Is he her dog?”

“How did he get in?”

Oh. Right. Snow peeled an eye open and found a huddle of ladies in matching clothes by the door. He must have fallen asleep.  

“Hey there, little doggie,” one woman said. “Where are you from?” 

Snow knew where this was going. It would be the same as Rachel and her mom, in the best case. He needed to leave and do it now. Before the ladies could figure out what to do with him, he jumped off the bed and darted through the door. 

He dodged old people in rolly chairs and more humans in matching outfits, then bolted through the door. Snow ran and ran and ran until his hatred of running outweighed his desire to get away. 

That was it. No more inside places. It was too easy to get trapped. But he was outside the first time he ran. Was anywhere safe?

His stomach rumbled. The jello hadn’t been enough. If he wanted to get far enough, he needed to eat. 

Snow followed his nose to a little shop. The aroma wafting out the open door was sweet and buttery, with a bit of chicken in the mix. It was perfect. He had just decided not to go inside, though. He shouldn’t. He wouldn’t. Snow’s stomach rumbled again. He would. 

There were only two people in the shop, from what Snow could tell. An older man and a younger one. He was probably a little older than Rachel, but human age-guessing wasn’t Snow’s forte. 

“Dad, I’m not going!”

“Peter, please stop yelling. Let’s talk about this.”

Oh no, more emotions.

The boy, Peter, took a deep breath. “I’m not going to college. I’m staying here to run the bakery with you.”

“I would love that, but why can’t it be after college? I want you to have something to fall back on.”

“I don’t need something to fall back on!”

Snow barked, and the two whirled around. He hadn’t meant to. The smart thing would have been to grab a steaming bun from the counter and slip away, but he couldn’t let them keep fighting.

“What… how did you get in here?” Peter asked. Snow was getting rather tired of that question. He panted in the general direction of the buns and hoped that was enough to get the message across. “Oh, are you hungry? Here.” 

Snow all but inhaled the pastry. It was delicious, even better than the jello. He was halfway through his second one when he heard a familiar click. 

He turned slowly, chicken and carrot juice dripping from his chin, and saw Peter’s dad with his hand on the now-closed entrance. There was no doggie door, no sliding glass, no field of grass. There was no escape.

As Peter reached for his collar, Snow knew his adventure had come to an end.

****

The morning was cold and gray, grayer than usual. Sure, the sun was shining in through the window as always, and the heater rumbled throughout the shelter, but Snow couldn’t seem to get warm. 

He had already had his breakfast and morning yard time. Next would be afternoon yard time and dinner. This was it. This would be his life forever.

“Snow, come here, boy.” He padded over to Ms. Ana but couldn’t bring himself to lick her hand like usual. “We’ve got a surprise for you!” 

He eyed her suspiciously. Was it another plaque? Mr. Stew already showed him the Best Escape Artist one he ordered. 

“Hi, Snow. We’re here to take you home.”

Snow looked up and nearly stumbled back. It was them, all of them. Rachel and her mom, the man, and Peter. On the phone screen, Old Jello Lady smiled down at him. How? Why?

“I don’t know how you did it, but you found all of us,” Rachel’s mom said, kneeling to pet between his ears. She really was good at that. “That has to be a sign, right?”

Peter leaned in beside her and ran a hand down Snow’s back. “We had a family meeting and decided you’re our missing member. Grandma’s thrilled.” 

Rachel and Peter’s dad–her dad, too, he supposed–filed in around him. “We’ll go visit once you’ve settled in.”

It was all too much. His body was a kind of warm he hadn’t felt before, even with his thickest winter coat. His heart beat in time with the rapid, unceasing wag of his tail. 

“We’ll miss him,” Mr. Stew said from across the room, “but he deserves a proper family.” Family. That’s what this feeling was. 

“So, what do you say, boy?” Rachel asked. “Ready to go home?”