the waste. The troughs were badly in need of cleaning. To the right was a former kitchen, now filled with enormous sacks of dog chow, dog dishes, and plastic garbage cans desperately in need of emptying. Three long-handled spades stood in the corner.
Josie heard a chorus of whines and whimpers. Four mouse-sized Pekingese huddled together in one cage near an overturned water dish. Their food bowl was empty. In other cages, tiny pups yipped and scratched at the wires. Four or five pups slept on top of one another. Others stared straight ahead with empty eyes. A few scratched their fur. Watching the scratching pups, Josie felt her own skin itch.
With one finger Amelia was petting a dirty white bichon. Josie wished her daughter wouldn’t touch the animal. Its red weepy eyes didn’t look healthy.
“It’s cold in here,” Josie said. “How do the dogs stay warm?”
“They’re wearing fur coats, honey. And they’ve got each other,” Jonah said, indicating a roiling, wriggling pile of puppies in a wire cage.
“Is that enough?” Josie asked.
“They’re animals,” Jonah said. “Nature meant for them to live outside. I keep them in a nice house. Do you worry about cows in a barn? Do farmers tuck them into beds? This is my farm and these are my animals.”
But cows get straw, Josie thought, and food and water and medical care.
“That wiener dog isn’t moving,” Amelia said, pointing to a brown dachshund lying on its side on the floor near the door.
“That’s Daisy,” Jonah said. “She died, poor thing. We need to bury her, but we haven’t had time with all the chores.”
What chores? Josie wanted to say. This place is filthy, and the dogs need food and water.
“What did she die of?” Amelia asked.
“Old age. She’s six.”
“That’s not very old,” Amelia said.
“It is in dog years,” Jonah said.
The scene was so grim, Josie wanted to run. She couldn’t stand it a minute longer.
“I want to leave,” Josie said. “I’m not feeling so good. I think I’m coming down with something.” She pasted on a smile and said, “Thanks for your time, Mr. Deerford. Sorry we interrupted you.”
“Come back anytime you want a dog,” Jonah said, which she translated as, “Don’t bother me again unless you’re buying something.”
Josie, Amelia, and Jerry walked back to his truck in silence. Josie didn’t try to hide her relief as she climbed into the cab. She hoped she didn’t have fleas from Jonah’s animals.
As he started the truck, Jerry tried to defend Jonah. “He used to be a farmer. He doesn’t have the sentimental attitude toward animals that city people do.”
“I don’t think clean cages are sentimental,” Josie said. “Neither is feeding his kids. Those boys looked like they could use a good meal and a bath. They didn’t even have gloves and it’s chilly tonight.”
“Boys lose gloves,” Jerry said. “They aren’t careful like girls.”
“Hah!” Josie said. “Do you know how many pairs of gloves I’ve bought Amelia so far this winter? Three. I told her if she loses one more pair, I’m getting her a set of mitten clips for her coat, like a first grader.”
“Mom!” Amelia was indignant that her mother revealed this personal information.
“What did Jonah want to talk to you about in private?” Josie asked.
“Jonah was worried you were some kind of animal rights spy. He thinks some radical vigilante types are trying to close down his kennels. He started taking down license plates and names of people who ‘drop by’ for a visit. I told him you were a harmless mystery shopper, checking out ladies’ clothing stores and stuff.”
“Right,” Josie said. “I do cute clothes.”
“You can see why he’d be upset about spies. His family farm means everything to him.”
“Absolutely,” Josie said. “But I wish Jonah wouldn’t let those boys outside dressed like that. They’re working at night. They could use a good meal. And why does the younger one
Josie heard a chorus of whines and whimpers. Four mouse-sized Pekingese huddled together in one cage near an overturned water dish. Their food bowl was empty. In other cages, tiny pups yipped and scratched at the wires. Four or five pups slept on top of one another. Others stared straight ahead with empty eyes. A few scratched their fur. Watching the scratching pups, Josie felt her own skin itch.
With one finger Amelia was petting a dirty white bichon. Josie wished her daughter wouldn’t touch the animal. Its red weepy eyes didn’t look healthy.
“It’s cold in here,” Josie said. “How do the dogs stay warm?”
“They’re wearing fur coats, honey. And they’ve got each other,” Jonah said, indicating a roiling, wriggling pile of puppies in a wire cage.
“Is that enough?” Josie asked.
“They’re animals,” Jonah said. “Nature meant for them to live outside. I keep them in a nice house. Do you worry about cows in a barn? Do farmers tuck them into beds? This is my farm and these are my animals.”
But cows get straw, Josie thought, and food and water and medical care.
“That wiener dog isn’t moving,” Amelia said, pointing to a brown dachshund lying on its side on the floor near the door.
“That’s Daisy,” Jonah said. “She died, poor thing. We need to bury her, but we haven’t had time with all the chores.”
What chores? Josie wanted to say. This place is filthy, and the dogs need food and water.
“What did she die of?” Amelia asked.
“Old age. She’s six.”
“That’s not very old,” Amelia said.
“It is in dog years,” Jonah said.
The scene was so grim, Josie wanted to run. She couldn’t stand it a minute longer.
“I want to leave,” Josie said. “I’m not feeling so good. I think I’m coming down with something.” She pasted on a smile and said, “Thanks for your time, Mr. Deerford. Sorry we interrupted you.”
“Come back anytime you want a dog,” Jonah said, which she translated as, “Don’t bother me again unless you’re buying something.”
Josie, Amelia, and Jerry walked back to his truck in silence. Josie didn’t try to hide her relief as she climbed into the cab. She hoped she didn’t have fleas from Jonah’s animals.
As he started the truck, Jerry tried to defend Jonah. “He used to be a farmer. He doesn’t have the sentimental attitude toward animals that city people do.”
“I don’t think clean cages are sentimental,” Josie said. “Neither is feeding his kids. Those boys looked like they could use a good meal and a bath. They didn’t even have gloves and it’s chilly tonight.”
“Boys lose gloves,” Jerry said. “They aren’t careful like girls.”
“Hah!” Josie said. “Do you know how many pairs of gloves I’ve bought Amelia so far this winter? Three. I told her if she loses one more pair, I’m getting her a set of mitten clips for her coat, like a first grader.”
“Mom!” Amelia was indignant that her mother revealed this personal information.
“What did Jonah want to talk to you about in private?” Josie asked.
“Jonah was worried you were some kind of animal rights spy. He thinks some radical vigilante types are trying to close down his kennels. He started taking down license plates and names of people who ‘drop by’ for a visit. I told him you were a harmless mystery shopper, checking out ladies’ clothing stores and stuff.”
“Right,” Josie said. “I do cute clothes.”
“You can see why he’d be upset about spies. His family farm means everything to him.”
“Absolutely,” Josie said. “But I wish Jonah wouldn’t let those boys outside dressed like that. They’re working at night. They could use a good meal. And why does the younger one
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