Shelter • wolfstar au

18 ; escape

Chapter Eighteen: Escape

31 October, 1982

Remus stood absently by the door of the nursing room as his eyes glazed over the cages that held the puppies and the dogs, his hands jammed inside the pockets of his pants. One two week old puppy had arrived this morning, and he watched it as it squirmed in the arms of one of his coworkers, mewling softly and pitifully. He had half his mind on the black and white puppy, thinking how badly it needed a shower, and the other half remained inside the nursing room where Santa Paws was being treated.

The Black German Shepherd has not been eating anything properly for the past week, and has been spending most of his days sulking in his duvet, scratching its surface until it had turned into a mass of cotton wool. In the end, Remus brought him to the shelter to be checked and treated, and there he stood, waiting for Jem to bring him out.

He did, about ten minutes later, Santa Paws trailing behind him, looking as frail as ever. Remus lowered himself and held his arms out, and the dog immediately walked into them, collapsing on his knees. As he ran his hand over his body, he felt the sharp edges of his ribs on the side, just like it had been the first time he was brought into the shelter. He breathed heavily, and a low, ragged sound escaped his throat.

Jem couldn't pinpoint what was exactly wrong with Santa Paws, but said there could be an infection in his stomach, rendering him unable to eat anything. Remus listened patiently, and received the prescribed medicines, which he put in his pockets. Then, fastening a harness around the dog's neck, he tied him in one corner of the shelter and continued his work.

As he remained busy grooming one of the newest puppies on the second floor, he was summoned by Adam who informed him that Santa Paws had started a racket downstairs. He raced down the stairs and saw, indeed, the Shepherd barking his lungs out, scaring most of the dogs present, and for a moment, he stood in stunned silence. He was weak, not having eaten much in the past few days, and it was surprising to see the strength he had in his lungs. Nevertheless, he walked over to him and held the leash, tugging it lightly.

Santa Paws quietened after a short while, looking at him pleadingly. He sat down next to him and asked in an annoyed voice, "What's wrong with you?"

The dog whined, lowering his head.

"Keep quiet. I need to work."

But when Remus stood up to leave, he began barking again. With a sigh, Remus turned to him. "What do you want?" He couldn't keep the sharpness and exasperation out of his voice. Santa Paws looked shocked, staring at him with mouth half open. The sight would have made Remus laugh had he not been so stressed out. "Do you want to go home?" he demanded, and he nodded his head in reply. Remus didn't have the strength to be surprised. "You're staying here until you get better."

The past days that Santa Paws had spent sleeping and sulking and whining, were equally stressful for Remus as he couldn't figure out what was wrong with him, or couldn't get him to eat anything. Having worked in the shelter for over four years, Remus had thought taking care of dogs was easy. But having coworkers to help you out, and looking after a dog on your own were completely different and he was learning it the hard way.