CHAPTER EIGHT SCRUGGS MEETS THE “KIDS”—WE’RE NOT GOING IN THERE (33rd installment, Scruggs and Samantha, by Mary de la Pena)

CHAPTER EIGHT

SCRUGGS MEETS THE “KIDS”—WE’RE NOT GOING IN THERE

(33rd installment, Scruggs and Samantha, by Mary de la Pena)

The scene of me trying to load the two dogs in the quietude of our own neighborhood was bad enough, but the shelter was worse. Instead of the quiet of my neighborhood, we were met with the cacophony of barking from the dogs confined in cages. Trucks were coming and going, and the usual number of people were milling around the front of the building.

The noise was enough to send both dogs into exaggerated behaviors.  Fina became more boisterous, while Tara was more reluctant and more alert.  Fina was determined to find the dogs she heard barking, and Tara was convinced she needed to keep me from entering that hellish place.

Fina immediately bolted from the car, almost jerking my arm from its socket.  Tara refused to leave the safety of the car. She rolled her eyes at me, pleading with me not to go anywhere near those cages.

Figuring Tara was safe in the car, I tried to get Fina under control.  “Fina,” I said firmly.  “Fina, come.”

She looked back over her shoulder at me and continued to dance at the end of the leash.

“Fina, damn it, come!”

Her eyes widened at my voice.  Maybe it was the use of the D-word, or maybe it was my tone, but she tucked her stubby tail close to her tan butt and slinked back to me.

That was enough for Tara; she immediately leaped from the SUV and came to sit next to me, leaning her considerable weight against my knee.  Fina wiggled her way over to the larger dog, licking her face and head, and then she also sat down.

“All right, you two,” I said.  “You have to behave.  We’re meeting a new dog, and you have to be good.”

Right, as if the dogs could understand me.  It wasn’t a Disney tale.  Both dogs just took up where they left off, with Fina surging ahead and Tara cross-stepping in front of me in an attempt to herd me back to the car.  Barely in control I tripped and pushed and pulled the two dogs to the entrance of the Humane Society.

 Of course, as most wives do whenever they are faced with a situation they can’t control they blame their husbands.  I blamed Prince Charming.  I silently cursed him as I sweated from the effort of controlling the two large dogs.  Then, I cursed him aloud at the entrance to the shelter when Fina came to a sliding halt and Tara began to back up, pulling hard against the leash.  Both dogs decided they wanted no part of entering hell.

Fina bolted back to Tara, again licking her face as if telling her, “You’re right, we don’t want to go in there!”  Both dogs turned and started pulling me back toward the car.  I slammed on my brakes, trying to dig my heels into the concrete walk, determined not to lose the ground I had gained.  But the dogs outweighed me, and their fear gave them extra strength to pull me along as I slid and stumbled backward away from the front gate.

Frustrated, hot, and aching from pulling on the two dogs, I started to cry, blaming Prince Charming for the mess I had created.

“Damn it,” I cried.  “Why do I always have to do this alone?”

With tears streaming down my face, I braced harder against the dogs, ordering Tara to stop.  It was a command she had learned years before, and she knew it meant that whatever she was doing she was to stop immediately.

She halted, one foot raised in mid-stride.  She rolled her eyes back at me, pleading but still obeying.  With Tara frozen in place, Fina stopped her headlong rush to the car long enough to come back to her buddy.

The area where we came to rest was the grassy strip of land fronting the Humane Society.  I pulled both dogs off the sidewalk onto the grass.

“Wait,” I said.  “Just wait, you two.”

I gathered the leashes into my hand, not moving, just letting the dogs sniff the air and the grass.  We waited for about five minutes to settle our emotions.  Finally, Tara began to relax.  She came to me and sat by my side.  Fina followed. It was enough to make me believe I could do this.

Silly me.