"I swear if that trash panda has reorganized my medical supplies again..." I mutter, grabbing my bag. "Twenty-six rescue dogs, fourteen cats, two surprise goats, and I'm being outsmarted by eight pounds of masked chaos with opposable thumbs."
I rest my forehead against the steering wheel for one last moment of peace before my day of animal wrangling begins.
Just forget about him.
I open the shelter door, balancing my coffee, the muffin, and a poop scoop I'd left outside yesterday after washing it to within an inch of it's life.
The usual strong scent of dog shampoo and disinfectant greets me. Yep. That's the perfume of my life. Not some decadent fragrance of a handsome prince from a land of far-far-away.
Looking down, I notice the trail of kibble scattered across the floor like breadcrumbs in that particular fairy tale that's somehow gone wrong.Verywrong.
"Oh no."
I follow the trail to the small office where my desk drowns under paperwork. Adoption forms, vet bills, fundraising letters, and grant applications. And sitting proudly atop the mess is Biscuit, a four-month-old border collie mix, tail thumping against my keyboard.
"Seriously? You're the escape artist?"
Biscuit tilts his head, looking adorably guilty as his tail sends a stack of invoices fluttering to the floor.
"Mia! Thank god you're here!" Zoe, my teenage volunteer, appears in the doorway. Her hair is frizzled and practically standing on it's ends, and there's what looks like wet paw prints across herIron Ridge Highsweatshirt. "I've been chasing puppies for twenty minutes. Biscuit figured out the latch thing and organized a jailbreak. The goats are eating your fern, and Bandit—" She stops, eyes wide. "Actually, I haven't seen Bandit, which is probably worse."
I take a long sip of coffee. "Good morning to you too."
"Sorry." She pushes her glasses up. "Please don't send me back to school. I got here early to get a head start on the feeding, but then—"
"Chaos ensued. Well, Zoe… Welcome to animal rescue." I set down my coffee and hand her the muffin I bought for her. "You did good, Zoe. Most people would've run screaming by now."
"Wow. Thank you. Ms. Jones says you're scarier than any animal disaster." She clamps her hand over her mouth and snatches the muffin bag away from Biscuit's sniffing wet nose. "I mean—"
I laugh. "Your guidance counselor's not wrong. It's not the first time that I've been told I'm the shelter's scary dog mom."
"But like, in a cool way," Zoe adds quickly. "Everyone knows you're the best with the difficult cases. Like how you got that aggressive pit bull to stop lunging yesterday."
"He's not aggressive, Zoe. He's just scared." I scoop up Biscuit, who licks my chin. "Aren't you going to ask why I'm not yelling about the great kibble explosion of Iron Ridge?"
"Because you secretly think it's funny when they outsmart us?"
"Smart kid. You'll make a good vet someday." I hand her Biscuit. "Now, let's round up the fugitives and get to work."
As Zoe carries the puppy out, my eyes land on the plastic Tupperware container on the front counter. Ryder's muffins from last night. The sight of them sends an unwelcome warmth through my chest.
Lemon blueberry. The taste of Sunday mornings at his parents' kitchen table. The way he'd stumble downstairs with bedhead and sleepy eyes, kiss my temple and steal bites of whatever we were making...
I always saved the biggest muffin for him. And looking into the container, I can see the exact one I'd pick out to do the same right now. All just to see that big smile he used to give me.
I shake my head, grabbing the mop from the supply closet with unnecessary force.
"Nope. Not today, memories. I've got literal crap to clean."
I attack a suspicious puddle near the cat room, scrubbing harder than necessary.
This shelter is everything I've built on my own. My reputation, my purpose, my future. I'm not the same girl who cried for weeks when Ryder left, who felt like half a person for years without him.
I'm whole now. Complete.
The director of Tails & Paws who handles emergencies before breakfast and saves animals others have given up on.
I glance at the half-eaten muffin I'd brought from the café, sitting innocently beside my cooling coffee. With sudden determination, I grab it and toss it in the trash bin.
