Best Friends by Samantha Glen

let her mind drift as the van left Prescott to climb the long, steep grade into the Coconino Forest. The black ribbon of road stretched endlessly ahead, and the monotonous drone of the engine had a lulling effect as it ate up the miles. Now and then she glimpsed Brunhilda’s big head in the rearview mirror.
    Most people winced when they first saw the bloodhound’s mashed face where her skull had been clubbed with a rifle butt. But Faith didn’t see any ugliness in the gentle dog whose lopsided, lugubrious expression always chased away her blues. Brunhilda’s only fault was that within seconds of meeting any small dog, she would attack. Faith had learned to restrain the bloodhound until the momentary urge passed.
    One of the occupational hazards of working with animals was that she wanted to take every one of them home with her. She wasn’t alone, of course. All of her friends cheerfully shared their homes with rescued cats and dogs. Look at Francis. How many had he adopted? Eighteen? Twenty? She had lost count. Not for nothing did Michael call him St. Francis.
    For no reason Faith remembered the goose. She was eight years old and staying overnight with a school friend. The classmate’s mother had allowed the girls to feed the elegant white birds who were so tame they ate out of Faith’s hand. After awhile, the woman came to watch. “Sweet things. We raised them from goslings,” she said. “Now which one would you like for dinner? Sarah or Jesse?”
    Faith was literally sick. Years later she awoke with the vivid recollection of that childhood goose. From that moment on she never ate anything with a face.
    She was glad that her children had naturally embraced her love for animals and the environment. David, her nineteen-year-old, had lived in the canyon for two years now and was never happier.
    And Carragh, fifteen last December and a dog lover like her mother, would be joining them for summer recess. Faith wasn’t sure if Eve, her blond, blue-eyed middle daughter, would be coming. She hoped so. It would be lovely for them all to be together. Besides, she could use help at Dogtown.
    Ah, Dogtown! Of course, she and Paul Eckhoff hadn’t even decided where to site it yet, but a month ago she had watched a program on an animal sanctuary in California called Living Free. She’d fallen in love with the octagon design of their kennels.
    The concept was perfect. The octagons housed storage and feeding areas as well as indoor shelter for the dogs. Oversized runs fanned from each of the eight sides with doggie jungle gyms and roomy doghouses in which the fortunate residents could romp and snooze. And Faith really appreciated that from inside the octagons she would be able to see all the dogs at a glance and keep an eye on their activities.
    Faith visualized her new Dogtown all the way to Utah. By the time she hit the dirt path to the bunkhouse, she’d planned, fenced, painted, and filled the many pens with happy canines.
    The quiet was uncanny as she climbed out of the van in front of the low-slung structure. Nobody rushed to greet her; no shouts of “hello.” Even the usual muddle of dogs was absent. The rhythmic thud of hammers hitting nails echoed faintly across the mesa. That’s where everyone is, Faith thought, working on The Village.
    â€œThought I heard a door slam.”
    Faith turned at the familiar voice and smiled. Diana sauntered toward her from a nearby trailer that she had trucked in to quarantine their feline leukemia cats. “You’re early.”
    â€œHi, Diana! Couldn’t wait to get here.”
    The two women hugged. “I’ve got a room ready for you over at The Village,” Diana said, “but let’s unload the kids first.”
    â€œGood idea. They’ve had a long drive,” Faith slid open the van door. Eight eager canines scrambled past their freshly offended feline companions and immediately ran in all