Birdie's hand is in mine as we follow my parents and Vida to the doors of the rescue my mom has been coordinating with. I'm not necessarily looking forward to this, finding a new dog feels full of pressure and overwhelming.
Blue was perfect.
And I know I'll never find another him.
We had to travel close to two hours to get to the rescue. It lays outside of Chicago in a rural area, houses spaced out and fields surrounding them. It's a gravel road that brings us pass a house to a large building with kennels surrounding. The place is well manicured and tidy, probably peaceful too if the sound of dogs barking wasn't echoing through the air.
My mom smiles at me, her eyes crinkling in the corner and I swear she's already tearing up. Anything sets her off. Birdie and I follow Vida into the building, our parents following. We're greeted by a large man with a deep voice and shaved head. Tattoos decorate his skin, his clothes lend more to biker gang than a dog rescue and hesitation blooms inside of me instantaneously.
I'm always waiting for men to be evil. It's not something I've been able to unlearn.
Birdie's hand squeezes mine and I watch as Vida greets the man, jutting her hand out like he couldn't swallow her whole.
"Between you and me", Vida tells the man, "we're really looking for two dogs. One for my brother and one for me." She says.
I hear my dad laugh beside me, my head turning to find him. It took me a long time to believe him. A long time to trust him but he's kept his word and I do believe him. He's protected me. His eyes meet mine, full of amusement and love and tension drains from my body.
"You've come to the right place then. My name is Eric." He extends his hand, my parents shaking it.
I don't make a move to continue the greeting, keeping my hand that's not holding Birdie's stuffed in my jeans.
"Hi, I'm Kendra Lincoln, I believe we spoke on the phone."
As my mom talks, my thoughts shift to Blue, specifically the day I got him. Going to that shelter nearby, the young boy with white blond hair and an infectious air about him. How he knew immediately Blue would be the perfect dog. In the years that have past I've thought about that kid, Elijah I think, and what he's up to. And right now, I can't help but wish he was the one that was here, not this other guy. I know that's impossible, this isn't even the same place and Elijah's probably grown, no longer working at the shelter but he was right. Blue was the perfect dog.
"Is there anything you want to add Holt?" My mom asks, my thoughts snapping back at the sound of my name.
I have no idea what's been said and now I've been caught being inattentive.
Her intuition though is always impeccable. "Anything specific you're looking for in a dog?"
Her voice is soothing, calm, coaxing answers from me I had no intention of withholding yet here I am, not participating in the conversation without prompting.
"I...uh..." I'm trying to think of how to word it, how to explain that Blue knew when it was time for quiet and when it was time for energy. How he always matched my pace, he always knew what I needed. "Active."
"We love to go for runs and walks." Birdie clarifies. "So I think a dog that likes to be active but not something that is high strung." She turns to me, her hazel eyes searching mine as she asks "does that sound right?"
I nod. I hate that I'm in my thirties and I still need people to limp me along in conversations. I want to be able to stroll in, much like Vida did, and strike up a conversation but even when I feel comfortable around someone, it still doesn't come naturally to me.
"I've definitely got some dogs we can take a look at, see if anything fits. In fact, how about you follow me, we can take a look at Chance, he's just over here." Eric says, ushering us deeper into the building.
My mom falls back to walk beside me, she links one arm through mine, her other hand wrapping around my bicep as we walk.
"No one expects you to find a dog instantly honey, okay?" She tells me.
"I know." She's only said the same thing a thousand times to me over the past few weeks.
But here's the thing, I'm afraid I'll never find another dog. At all.
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We are all seated in a large corner booth at one of our favorite restaurants back in the city. Birdie on my one side, Vida on the other as everyone talks while we wait for food.
"My favorite was Spot." Vida says. "We should have brought him home. "Or Roxy. Either one."
She sips her water beside me, clinking the ice cubes around with her straw as she tells our parents.
The restaurant is dimly light, an intimate atmosphere with quiet music that slips into the background ambiance. They've got great food, everything always blasting with flavors. But my favorite part about this place is no matter how busy it gets, it remains quiet and calm. I don't know how they do it but I love it.
"I don't know." My dad says. "I was hoping for one and with more character."
Vida scrunches up her nose. "Spot had plenty of character."
Her blond hair is loose, spilling down her shoulders in unruly waves, her blue eyes dark in the dim lighting even though they're not. She looks younger with her nose wrinkled up, a memory of when she was probably four popping into my mind. Mom had made Birdie a tuna fish sandwich one day when we were hanging out and Vida took a bite. Her face instantly soured. She shares my dislike for tuna.
The memory pulls a small smile to my face as I join the conversation saying "Spot is such an overused name."
Vida gapes at me, my dad laughs, Birdie stifles a chuckle beside me and my mom, I swear she looks like she's about to cry again.
"You're supposed to be on my side." Vida accuses.
"I'm always on your side." I defend instantly. "But Spots a lame name."
She huffs, her face all puckered in disagreement before she slouches against me. Her head lands on my shoulder, entire side pressed to mine.
"Ugh. I don't like it when you're right." She mumbles.
Amusement floods me, her defiance something that I love. I love that she's willing to challenge things, to speak up for herself even if I'm right. I love my sister and the way that everything is easy between us.
"I love having my family all together." My mom says wistfully, her hand reaching for my dads that rests on the table.
"We're pretty blessed aren't we?" He says in return.
It's a sentimental moment and in these moments I feel the need to thank them again. Because if anyone at the table is blessed it's me.
But Vida takes charge nonchalantly claiming that "we can't help it we're awesome".
I don't necessarily agree with her entirely but I do think she's awesome.
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I haven't done a rambling authors note in a while so here goes.
First off I went this entire pandemic never having to get a PCR Covid test done until the other day. I've worn my mask, I've sanitized, I've let my introverted self relish in the ability to not feel obligated to hang out with people. And yet here I am, positive with fucking Covid.
All in all, not bad. Though I am vaccinated and have my booster.
Mostly I'm bored. So bored.
I'd like to have the option to leave the house, ya know? Not that I will but I like options. And not having options is annoying.
At the same time if I had to get Covid nows the time. I've got a vacation to Colorado planned at the end of January and I'd be pissed if we had to cancel. Though now I have to try and get in shape so my body can handle two days of skiing without me dying. Eating healthy and working out is not my forte, wish me luck.