Canines and Chaos

Chapter 1

Chapter 1

“Hi. May I help you?” asked the receptionist. She spoke confidently and wore a big smile that seemed genuine, even under the mask of makeup plastered across her face.

“Uh . . .” Rosi began uncertainly. She needed a moment to take it all in. The carpet was obviously new. It was a very average gray color and the fibers were short. Each wall was painted a clear sky blue and was decorated with pictures of pets. Dogs were the most common, and the pictures were found in all sizes. Some were the size of poster board; others fit into small frames. The glass door from which she had entered and now stood just inside of lead out into a small parking lot. The building was large but the side that faced the road was small, and directly behind the parking lot. From this a dirt driveway led alongside a long building. Behind the building Rosi had just barely been able to make out fences outlining part of a grassy area at the end of the dirt drive. Along the side of the building, Rosi had seen windows and sometimes doors, which she assumed lead eventually down a hall back into the entrance room. Back to the left of the secretary there was another glass door.

“So,” prompted the secretary, indicating with a hand that Rosi should respond.

“Right, of course, sorry.” Startled, Rosi blushed and began to speak. “I’m Rosi Adams. I emailed you a form to volunteer here. It was extremely confusing and I wasn’t exactly sure who received it, but I was told to start today. Where should I go?” As the secretary started to respond, Rosi noticed a white name tag pinned on her navy polo shirt. The tag showed a bad picture of the secretary, whom it identified as Wendy. The desk she sat at was made of a very light colored wood and looked brand new. Behind it was a coat rack, unneeded and bare in the summer heat. Papers were organized neatly in stacks along the wide desk that stretched out as though many employees were missing. The empty chairs waved dismally at her, and with an involuntary shiver, a sudden pang of loneliness washed over Rosi. With a start, she tuned back into what Wendy was saying. Luckily, she realized that she had missed only an introduction, and as she knew Wendy’s name, it was unimportant.

“This facility, as you may know, is for the training and raising of dogs.” Wendy rolled her eyes and continued. “What you may not know is that it’s chaos. Don’t tell Alex I said that, but it’s true.”

“Who is Alex?” interrupted Rosi, pulling up one of the eight chairs that lined the room and sitting in it. Evidently, Wendy liked to speak her mind, and Rosi was quite eager to learn everything she could about the place at which she was to volunteer.

“Alex is a very rich and  impulsive girl. After finishing college she decided she wanted to be a dog trainer. She doesn’t need to make any money - her parents have enough for themselves and their daughter to live on for the rest of their lives. She just suddenly decided to be a world class dog trainer. A normal person would get a few books from the library and adopt a puppy of their own to work with and test theories and such, and then give a few classes. Alex had her father build this huge structure and brought in 50 purebred dogs that probably cost at least a hundred dollars a piece. She put them all in lovely brand-new kennels and employed me along with about 20 others to work in her newly furnished building. She even built about 25 rooms similar to those of a hotel so that people can fly in to adopt her dogs. Of course this won’t actually happen. She calls it thinking long-term, but it’s really just a child playing make-believe, except her playhouse is rather expensive. The fields out back are even more elaborate, if that’s even possible. The stupid thing is that half of the building is unused and I bet she sells the place in a month and moves on to her next ‘project’.” Wendy spoke disgustedly and very quickly.

Rosi was taken aback. She hadn’t really understood the nature of the place, only knowing that it involved dogs. Desperately needing volunteer hours for a school that she hoped to enter in the fall, she had filled out a form quickly. The size of the facilities were overwhelming and to walk in and hear a barrage of insults aimed at the owner was unnerving. “So,” she began slowly. “What do I do?”