Like clockwork, I send Iris another message in the morning. I attach a photo of us at the Botanic Garden with a word that describes the exact yearning I feel for her.
I stare at my phone screen for far longer than I should, waiting for a reply that never comes. My heart shrinks in my chest with each ignored message.
You can either get upset or move forward with the plan.
I take a deep breath, shut down my computer, and lock up my office.
“Where are you going?” Cal looks up from the computer.
“I’m taking the rest of the day off.”
“What?”
“Please cancel my appointments for the remainder of the workday. I won’t be available.”
“All eight of them?”
“Is that a problem?”
“No, but—”
“Great. See you tomorrow.” I make my way toward the exit before stopping to look back at my brother, whose mouth is still hanging open. “Thanks for helping me out. I know you don’t have to, but I appreciate you stepping in for Iris nonetheless.”
“I’m doing it for Iris. Not you.”
“I know, which is why I appreciate it even more.” I leave the office with my head held high and ready to push my plan into action.
Harrison and I drive around all of Chicago as I search shelter after shelter for the perfect dog. Iris was specific about her requirements, and I don’t plan on screwing them up. My enthusiasm dwindles with each shelter that comes up empty, and by the tenth one, I’m losing hope.
“Maybe we can try again tomorrow, sir.” Harrison holds the car door open for me.
I release a heavy sigh. This is an integral part of my plan, and I’m already failing. How hard can it be to find a big, fluffy dog who will follow Iris around everywhere?
Damn near impossible it seems.
I pull up my phone and look up the next shelter on my list. “Let’s try one more and then I’ll call it a day.”
Harrison drives me to the last one. It’s not in the best part of town, so I don’t plan on staying long since Harrison and the Maybach might not be here by the time I get out.
A bell rings above me as I enter the building. The only employee in the place doesn’t look up from her magazine.
“Hello.” I stop at the counter.
She blows a bubble with her gum before popping it. “We’re closed.”
I check the sign on the front. “You’re still open for another thirty minutes, so try again.”
Her eyes widen before narrowing, as if she recognizes me from somewhere but can’t pin down where. “How can I help you?”
“I’m looking for a big, fluffy dog that has separation anxiety.”
“That’s oddly specific.”
“Tell me about it. Do you have any dog that fits my description?”
“Umm…not that I know of.”
The last ounce of hope drains from me. I’ll regroup and try again tomorrow once I’ve had a good night’s rest. Or at least as good as I can get with Iris on the other side of Chicago, sleeping in my brother’s apartment.
I knock my hand against the counter. “I see. Thanks for your time then.”
“Do you want to take a look out back just in case?”
I open my mouth to say no, but I think better of it.
You did drive all this way. You might as well go check out the place while you’re here.
“Fine. Lead the way.”
She shows me to the back room. Kennels line the walls, stuffed with dogs and other animals all waiting for a new home. Some cower in the corner of their cage as I walk past them while others hiss or bark in my direction.
“See any you like?”
“No.” All of them are either too small, too well groomed, or too scary to be deemed appropriate.
A dog barks from the farthest cage.
“What’s that?”
“That pen is reserved for the dog being prepped for euthanasia. He’s probably a bit anxious about being separated from everyone else.”
“You plan on killing him?
“We don’t have enough room or money to house all of them, so once they reach a certain amount of time pending adoption… You know.”
Jesus. I take a step toward the final cage. Two dark eyes look up at me, barely observable from behind a mop of white and gray hair covering him.
“What breed is this? Polar bear?”
She comes over and checks the nameplate. “They think he’s an Old English Sheepdog. Hard to tell without DNA testing.”
He looks old all right. Based on the card, his estimated date of birth was more than five years ago. That’s practically ancient in dog years.
“Can you let him out?”
“Are you sure? He’s a bit…restless.” With the way her eyes keep darting around the room, one would think she requires some kind of taser wand to handle a dog.
“Just open it up.”
She shrugs before unlocking the cage. The dog barrels out like a bullet before slamming into me. I try to catch myself but end up falling flat on my ass as the dog licks my entire face from chin to hairline. It’s absolutely repulsive, yet I can’t help laughing when he repeats the gesture on the other side of my face, leaving no area unlicked.
“This one is being put down tomorrow?”
“First thing in the morning.”
The dog whimpers as if he can understand the conversation. He takes a seat on my lap like a small dog, only to crush my cock beneath his weight.
I push him off me and stand. “No one wanted to adopt him?”
“Nope.” She reviews his card again. “Oh, look. He suffers from abandonment issues and doesn’t like being left alone for more than a few hours at a time. If he is, he might tear into your favorite couch or pee on your rug.”
Great. Mystery solved.
He blinks up at me like he silently promises to be on his best behavior. I’m having a hard time believing him based on the way he drools all over my shoes like he wants to make them his new favorite chew toy.
“I think that’s the closest thing I’m going to get to separation issues.”
“So, you’ll take him?”
“Sure. Get me the paperwork.”
I’m now the proud father of a clingy dog who will most likely destroy my home before Iris ever has a chance to come back to it.
Perfect. Just perfect.
The next day, I show up to work with the dog who has yet to be named. After he destroyed my favorite loafer while I was out on my evening run, he can’t be trusted around nice things. Bringing him to the office is a temporary solution. One I need to fix soon once I find the appropriate doggy day care to train him.
“What is that?” Cal stops by my office door.
“A dog.” I don’t look up from my computer.
The dog barks in reply. He tries to break free from his leash attached to my desk but fails.
“I see that, but why is it here? In your office?”
“He has attachment issues.”
The dog barks again in agreement.
“Is he yours?” Cal takes a hesitant step toward it.
“And Iris’s.”
“Tell me you didn’t get her a dog because you thought it would make her happy.”
“Okay. I won’t.”
He rubs his face. “Shit.”
“If you’re going to judge my plan, you might as well get back to work. I’m already stressed as it is.” Between fielding new temps for Iris’s position and sorting through the rest of my plan, I’m spread thin.
“What even is your plan?”
My eyes narrow. “Why do you care?”
“Because I’m your brother and I feel obligated to help you before you do something drastic.”
“Is there something considered more rash than adopting a dog?”
“I sure as hell don’t want to find out.” He pats the dog’s head.
I glare at him. “I thought you were angry with me.”
“I am, but I want what’s best for Iris, even if that happens to be you.”
“Thanks a lot for the backhanded compliment, asshole.”
He shrugs. “Like you need any more self-esteem boosting.”
“Seeing as my wife wants nothing to do with me, I could use all the help I can get.”
“Who knew you being in love would make you this pathetic?”
“If you think this is pathetic, wait until you see what I have planned next.”
1 Noun, German: Longing, desire, yearning, or craving.
