privately and the dogs showed their former circumstances in hung heads, drooping tails, and low growls. Breathing the scent of fur, feces, and fear, even though the kennels were clean and spacious, she moved from one to another, making herself available and searching for a spark.
With small, lacy snowflakes falling around her, she crouched at the end of a run, and the brown, bristly dog at the end pulled one lip back. It was more a twitch than a snarl. Reflex, not intention, but with the same result. She stood up and moved on.
Maybe they sensed her ambivalence, because none approached when she crouched at the ends of their runs. It might have been different if they were loose in the yard, but because of their unpredictability, they didn’t mingle with each other or new prospective companions. She would have to come back several times before having actual contact. Her heart went out to them, while at the same time she wondered how appropriate her situation would be toward their restoration.
What if there was danger, if they had to flee, to keep movingfrom place to place? How would the animal handle such insecurity? She had to wonder if she could count on a dog even the rescuers called unpredictable. Without even one coming close enough to pet, she admitted adoption would be a mistake.
“I’m sorry,” she told the stocky man with a broad, generous face and a brace on one leg who’d let her into the kennel area. “We’d have to trust each other and . . .”
“That comes with time,” he told her. “Usually.”
She nodded, believing it. “But I might not have time. And it wouldn’t be fair to expect more than they can give.”
He eyed her solemnly. “Are you in some trouble?”
She returned his concern with a smile. “I hope not.” Then she looked at the kennels. “But I think they have too much of their own to add any of mine.”
He said, “If things settle out for you, keep us in mind.”
“I will. Thank you.”
It wasn’t going to be as easy as she’d thought. Since she’d never had a pet, her assumptions could be completely wrong. Maybe that magical bond she’d imagined was only that—imaginary.
Disappointed, but confident in her decision, she went home alone. Since she wasn’t a loner by nature, she gave herself kudos for handling solitude these last four years with equanimity and grace. The grace, she knew, didn’t come from her, but dealing with it did.
His assistant, Denise, met him at the resort hotel in LA, where they’d all gather for a state-of-the-corporation session, announce his return, and prepare to move forward. He needed to connect with the team members who’d been actively working projects and the bigger talents who came on for the high-level clients he handled personally. He had to know if they could still commit the time, focus, and energy required to right sinking ships in an economy as unforgiving as a shark in bloody waters.
None had been static during his hiatus. Some would have positions they preferred to keep, places to hunker down and wait for the world to turn around. He wouldn’t blame them. He’d been hunkering himself.
Coifed like a dame from a film noir in knee-length tight skirt and fitted blazer, blond hair swept into a tight twist, Denise joined him in the conference room at their disposal for the week. He slanted her a glance. “These are preliminary meetings, Denise. One-on-one to get the pulse of my team. We don’t need to be quite so formal.”
“The pulse, Morgan, that they need to feel is yours. The world isn’t even sure you’re alive and kicking.”
He wasn’t either. As with his engine, the gears were rusty.
She pressed a finger to her chin. “I’ve held off contacting Belcorp until we know your own people are on board.”
As with a quarterback returning from a season-ending injury, they’d want to know he hadn’t lost his nerve. Could he make the hard calls that led to victory?
He tapped his pen on the knuckle of his thumb.
With small, lacy snowflakes falling around her, she crouched at the end of a run, and the brown, bristly dog at the end pulled one lip back. It was more a twitch than a snarl. Reflex, not intention, but with the same result. She stood up and moved on.
Maybe they sensed her ambivalence, because none approached when she crouched at the ends of their runs. It might have been different if they were loose in the yard, but because of their unpredictability, they didn’t mingle with each other or new prospective companions. She would have to come back several times before having actual contact. Her heart went out to them, while at the same time she wondered how appropriate her situation would be toward their restoration.
What if there was danger, if they had to flee, to keep movingfrom place to place? How would the animal handle such insecurity? She had to wonder if she could count on a dog even the rescuers called unpredictable. Without even one coming close enough to pet, she admitted adoption would be a mistake.
“I’m sorry,” she told the stocky man with a broad, generous face and a brace on one leg who’d let her into the kennel area. “We’d have to trust each other and . . .”
“That comes with time,” he told her. “Usually.”
She nodded, believing it. “But I might not have time. And it wouldn’t be fair to expect more than they can give.”
He eyed her solemnly. “Are you in some trouble?”
She returned his concern with a smile. “I hope not.” Then she looked at the kennels. “But I think they have too much of their own to add any of mine.”
He said, “If things settle out for you, keep us in mind.”
“I will. Thank you.”
It wasn’t going to be as easy as she’d thought. Since she’d never had a pet, her assumptions could be completely wrong. Maybe that magical bond she’d imagined was only that—imaginary.
Disappointed, but confident in her decision, she went home alone. Since she wasn’t a loner by nature, she gave herself kudos for handling solitude these last four years with equanimity and grace. The grace, she knew, didn’t come from her, but dealing with it did.
His assistant, Denise, met him at the resort hotel in LA, where they’d all gather for a state-of-the-corporation session, announce his return, and prepare to move forward. He needed to connect with the team members who’d been actively working projects and the bigger talents who came on for the high-level clients he handled personally. He had to know if they could still commit the time, focus, and energy required to right sinking ships in an economy as unforgiving as a shark in bloody waters.
None had been static during his hiatus. Some would have positions they preferred to keep, places to hunker down and wait for the world to turn around. He wouldn’t blame them. He’d been hunkering himself.
Coifed like a dame from a film noir in knee-length tight skirt and fitted blazer, blond hair swept into a tight twist, Denise joined him in the conference room at their disposal for the week. He slanted her a glance. “These are preliminary meetings, Denise. One-on-one to get the pulse of my team. We don’t need to be quite so formal.”
“The pulse, Morgan, that they need to feel is yours. The world isn’t even sure you’re alive and kicking.”
He wasn’t either. As with his engine, the gears were rusty.
She pressed a finger to her chin. “I’ve held off contacting Belcorp until we know your own people are on board.”
As with a quarterback returning from a season-ending injury, they’d want to know he hadn’t lost his nerve. Could he make the hard calls that led to victory?
He tapped his pen on the knuckle of his thumb.
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