SLIVERS: Short Stories & Other Shards

The Animal Shelter

"We have a problem."

I tensed, then sucked in a breath to keep my cool. Not again.

Every time I came to work at the animal shelter, a 'problem' was waiting for me— problems that weren't actually problems.

A cat puked in its cage? It was a 'problem.'

A dog wouldn't stop barking? It was a 'problem.'

These were things our volunteers should've been able to manage themselves. Sometimes I wondered what they thought they'd be doing when they signed up to work at our animal shelter. Did they think they'd spend their days frolicking in fields with dozens of puppies? Spend all day in kitten snuggle fests? Never even having to speak the dreaded words litter box or poop baggies?

Yes, you could play with the animals at the shelter, but you also had to help them—that was the whole point. You had to take them for walks, feed them, bathe them, and clean up after them. That was the reality of working here, the reality of living with animals.

I pinched the bridge of my nose to stave off the headache forming between my eyes. As the manager, I needed to remain calm. I didn't want to snap at poor Jamie. She was sweet and well-meaning—they always were—but she was far too squeamish when it came to all the natural things animals did, especially for someone who said she wanted to be a vet. To her credit, she was trying, and she had lasted longer than most, but still...

"What, Jamie?" I asked. "What's the problem?"

I tried to stop the sarcasm from leaking into my voice, but it couldn't be helped. It had been a long week, and it was too early in the morning for this. At least it was Friday. I braced myself, waiting for her to start rattling off her long list of complaints.

But Jamie didn't say anything. That was strange in itself. Usually, Jamie couldn't stop talking.

I looked over at her. She was standing on the other side of the counter, her face blank and pale... I mean, even paler than usual. Her lips were almost blue. I was so distracted by their unnatural color that it took me a moment to hear the words they formed.

"Derek is dead."

I went rigid. Dead?

For once in my career, a volunteer had brought me an actual problem. It was rare for an animal to die in the shelter of, uh, natural causes—hey, it's sad, but that's the reality—but it wasn't unheard of. And if they did pass away, we certainly didn't let the volunteers handle the bodies in case of disease or something.

This was actually something I would have to handle on my own.

But which animal was named Derek? I wondered. I couldn't think of an animal in the shelter by that name. I mean, there was a new volunteer by that name, but—

It hit me then.

Derek, the volunteer?

Our volunteer?

He was dead?

My heart sagged, and I hated myself for doubting Jamie's news. Derek had been new, younger even than Jaime, and I had taken a shine to him. Though he had just started a couple of weeks ago, he was shaping up to be quite capable. He was even supposed to work today.

"T-That's horrible!" I managed to sputter. "When? How? Where?"

My mind raced with possibilities. A thousand horrible ways for a young kid to lose their life flashed through my mind: accidents, overdoses, mugging, murder. It seemed it was easier and easier for kids to die these days.