Sunday morning came quickly. As soon as I had fallen asleep, it seemed the bright light and cascading sounds of chirping birds stirred me from my slumber. It had been another dreamless night, void of anything. Just how I preferred.
The pet store opened at ten AM, and I had to arrive thirty minutes earlier to prepare for opening. After shoving a portable breakfast down my throat and bidding a hollow goodbye to my father, I departed down the road in my car, pulling into the small, haphazard parking lot ten minutes later. Roots from ancient trees had started to bubble underneath the cement, causing my car to bounce and lash me about inside the cabin.
I was greeted with the pet store's usual essence, a musky, earthy smell that I could pinpoint immediately if I had smelled it anywhere else. Some of the animals took note when I walked in; the birds began chirping, some of the cats mewled, and I heard the dogs and puppies getting restless near the back of the store where they slept. I had the next thirty minutes to clean up messes, organize the animals in their daytime containers, and feed some hungry mouths. When I had first started working, these tasks took me nearly all morning to complete. Though over the years, I had developed an efficient routine, and the morning duties scarcely took me longer than a half an hour.
The reptiles and amphibians were always last on my rounds, as they usually didn't require immediate feedings and their cages weren't as in-need as those of the warm-blooded distinction. I said hello to Mr. Shelton who was waddling from his sleep shelter. My chest swelled. I would never tell Erikson, but I was thankful he hadn't been up for adoption yesterday. There would be a gaping hole in my morning if he wasn't there.
Mr. Shelton let me pet the top of his head and then scooted to the end of the cage where I had placed his food, some kale and a couple meal worms. I moved on to Ricky Ricardo, the tortoise, who was already by his dish awaiting the same treatment.
It was then I heard the soft tingle of the bell attached to the front door. Someone had come inside. My insides flipped as I was overtaken with the notion that Ben had just emerged, ready to collect his new dog. Wiping my hands from the crumbs left by the pellet food, but not the pungent smell, I headed towards the front of the store and braced myself.
"Hi, how are you?" I shifted in place as the high pitched, sweet voice of a woman with a bleach blond bob rung through my eardrums. She was clutching the shoulder of a small boy whose eyes were swiveling in circles trying to absorb all the surrounding animals. They looked familiar.
Releasing the strained breath on reserve for Ben, I slapped on a dutiful smile. "Hi, welcome. Have you been here before?"
"No," the woman said pleasantly, "but we were at the adoption center at the Lake yesterday – we spoke to an older gentleman – oh what was his name..."
"That would've been Erikson. He's the owner."
"Yes, that's it. Nice man. Anyway, my son was beside himself with all the animals yesterday, and I promised him we'd stop into the shop first thing. So, here we are!"
I could tell from this brief encounter that the woman had stockpiles of energy. She was radiant, as though the sun itself had waltzed in through the door. Her son was still mentally cataloging all the creatures around him, most likely deciding which one to visit first once released from his mother. After closer inspection, I did remember them from yesterday, however I had been in conversation with Morgan during their visit.
"Is there anything particular you'd like to see?" I asked.
"Well," the woman began, "I told my son he could pick out one small animal to take home – as long as it was smaller, and remained smaller, than a guinea pig."
Despite the small stature of a guinea pig, many animals in the shop fit the description. I then offered to show them around and to answer any questions they might have. Once given freedom, the boy nearly sprinted towards a shelf of gerbils, his little hands placed on the glass container as if magnetized.
About an hour later, the mother, son, and a slate grey chinchilla in the arms of the little boy, had departed the store. The mother, who had been easily persuaded into settling on an animal bigger than a guinea pig, offered me many thanks and swore to return should they need any pet supplies in the future. As the left, the little boy skipping happily next to his mother, I knew the chinchilla would be going to a good home, and that was a feeling I always relished.
The day was slow, as usual on Sunday, and I was sweeping the old wood floors, checking in on the animals as I did so, when I heard the bell chime again. I was so wrapped up in my own head, I had forgotten I was expecting Ben at some point today. So, when I went to the front entrance to see who had stepped inside, I again pushed the thought away as I saw it was a teenage girl with flowing blonde hair, rosy cheeks, and chocolate eyes, which were now locked on my own.
"Hello," I greeted.
"Hi," she said, and I noticed that her voice perfectly matched her disposition; sunny and sweet. She, too, looked familiar. I wondered if she had been at the pet adoption shop yesterday as well.
"Can I help you with anything?"
The girl's face lit up, her pink cheeks glowing brighter. "Yeah, I'm actually" – the girl broke off, suddenly distracted by something to her left – "are those ferrets?"
I traced her sightline to where many of the rodents resided. She was, indeed, focused on four ferrets that were snoozing happily tangled together like a furry pretzel.
"Yeah, three of them – the black ones – were brought here just recently. They were rescued. The other one has been here for a little bit longer. He welcomed them right in as you can see."
The girl was still ogling the ferrets aptly, obviously fascinated. As if in a trance, she started walking towards them, and then said in a quiet voice, "I love ferrets."
"They make good pets." I followed the girl. "They've all been rescued – every pet here has been, actually. We don't know exactly how old any of them are, but we can guess. The three that were brought in are around one, and the other guy, the dark brown one, is about two or three years old."
"My mom would kill me if I brought one home." The girl then glanced to me. "I'm actually here to bring home a dog, and I think a ferret might send her over the edge."
That should have been my clue; seconds later, the doorbell rang and in entered Ben, instantly spotting us hunched over by the sleeping ferrets. I stood up abruptly as a strange feeling washed over me; I was speaking to Ben's sister, and I instantly realized why she looked so familiar. She had been cheering at the track meet a few days ago with, presumably, her mother. A knotty feeling filled my chest.
"Hi, Elliot. Looks like you met my sister," Ben said. He was wearing a pair of jeans and faded flannel, his feet clad in a pair of white sneakers. When my eyes ventured to his face, I noticed he was grinning easily at me, wisps of sandy hair shooting out beneath his baseball cap.
"Uh," was all I could say.
"Actually, we didn't really meet," his sister piped in, and I would forever be in her debt. "I'm Erin."
"Elliot," I croaked as the siblings stared at me. Needing to control myself, I shook my head, and manufactured a surge to jumpstart my vocabulary. "So, you're here for Rocket?"
"And it looks like a ferret too," said Ben.
"Elliot told me all these animals are rescued, even these ferrets," Erin said, reaching a hand over the top of the sleeping animals, before stopping herself and asking, "Can I pet them?
"Sure," I said. "They're like little dogs. They love attention."
Erin then happily sank her fingers into the fur of the ferrets, who responded by stretching lazily and bending into her hand. They rustled around a little, regrouping their positions, and a few of their eyes began to peer open. One of the black ones was first to come to, and detached himself from the group and gave full attention to the hand connected to Erin.
"He likes you," I said, stealing a quick look at Ben, who was watching his sister with delight. "I'll, um, go get Rocket."
I left the two of them standing by the ferrets, tearing myself from the scene with the anticipation of stealing a few moments to gather my thoughts. I despised being caught off guard. I wanted to know what to expect; the fear of uncertainty was suffocating. Silently chastising myself for not realizing the young woman was Ben's sister, I drew a hand through my hair, and headed toward the back of the shop to find Rocket.
Rocket was sitting still, swiftly wagging his tail back and forth, as I entered the back room. He had a few toys scattered about, and his water dish was surrounded by small puddles. I grabbed his leash and he nearly jumped out of his fur with excitement. Whining and vibrating barks echoed off the walls in the small room. I knew Ben and Erin would be able to hear.
"C'mon, Rocket. Your new life awaits."
With large, shining eyes, Rocket looked up to me, his tongue loosely hanging out of his mouth, and let me attach his collar and leash. I then opened the gate of his pen and he scrambled, slipping around on the slick linoleum floor and towards the exit door. The differences in attitude between us-- Rocket wanting nothing more than to see Ben, and me wanting to stay hidden in the back room until it was all over --was magnified in the tension contained by the leash connecting us. Rocket pulled and dragged me out to where Ben stood, as if he remembered Ben's scent.
"Hi, buddy," said Ben, bending his back gawkily and reaching down to pet Rocket, who was now jumping on Ben with full force. It took only a moment, but, as soon as Rocket had released his entire energy stores on Ben, Ben stumbled backward, toppling over on the floor in an ungraceful thud.
I was frozen. My feet were glued to the floor and my breath seemed to dissipate. It was Erin who knelt down, slowly pulled Rocket away from Ben (Rocket was now licking him zealously), and helped Ben back to his feet.
"S-sorry," I said, my mouth feeling disconnected from the rest of my body. "He's not – when we got him, he hadn't been trained."
To my utter surprise, a genuine smile was etched across Ben's face, as if he had enjoyed getting pummeled by an eighty-pound dog.
"That's okay. He's excited. He won't take long to train." Ben started petting Rocket again. "Will you, boy?"
"He's so cute!" exclaimed Erin, whose attention had turned from the ferrets. "I like his name too – Rocket. He's kind of like a little rocket."
A warming laugh came from Ben. "Yeah, it's fitting. You can thank Elliot for that."
Erin's smiled evolved into a frown; her eyebrows stitched together thoughtfully. "Oh, but didn't you say he was rescued from someone? Didn't he have a name when you found him?"
My legs shifted beneath me, and I finally felt my senses returning. Erin had a valid question, one that I didn't have the best to answer to. "He was with someone for a few years – he's almost four now – but, the, uh – people – who had him, they called him" – I hesitated for a moment before finishing my sentence. I had remembered the name given to the happy lab reported by the two staff members of the rescue agency. It caught in my throat on its way out – "Dog. They called him Dog."
Both Erin and Ben's faces turned gloomy, just as expected. It brought me back to the day Rocket had first come to stay with us at the shop. He was subdued, his tail tucked between his legs and head hung low, as if shrinking himself in protection from something terrible. I had cautiously moved myself to the floor and held my hands out for him to sniff. Once he was comfortable, I began to pet around his ears, and his spirit returned almost immediately. Over the next few weeks, Rocket was still shy around both Erikson and me, but his trust levels had regenerated with impressive force. In a few months, he had become one of the most social dogs we had ever had. It was a surprise he hadn't been adopted sooner.
"He didn't have a name?" whispered Erin. "He was just... Dog?"
I nodded solemnly. "The first night he came to stay with us here, at the pet shop, the radio was playing and Rocket Man came on." I paused to reflect fondly on the memory. "He instantly started howling and barking as if singing along. Ever since, he's been Rocket."
Erin's face turned bright again. I liked her. She reminded me of Cambrie. All of her emotions were displayed on her face, nothing hidden.
"It's the perfect name," said Ben watching me carefully.
Rocket had calmed down now. He was seated next to Ben as if he belonged there. An unfamiliar swelling began to bloom inside my chest, sending me off kilter.
"So," I said. "Are you ready to check-out? I know Erikson mentioned you could pick out a bed and toy. Feel free – if you want, that is."
"He comes with a free bed and toy too!" Erin had stooped down to Rocket and had her arms wrapped around his neck. "What did we do to deserve you?"
Ben stated he would go look at beds and find a small toy to take, still implying that fifty dollars was much too inexpensive for everything he would have when he walked out of the store. I agreed but didn't say as much. Erikson was the owner, and I trusted him to run business as he saw fit. He had owned the pet store for near on thirty years. Obviously, he was doing something right.
I watched Ben and his sister as they canvassed the store, stopping periodically to scope out what lay around each corner. It was apparent the two of them were both animal lovers; their faces lit up when they came across one that was out and about. Erin would squeal with delight upon spotting any animal moving. She was especially encouraged if one appeared to notice her presence. Ben watched both the animals and his sister with equal amusement and affection. Their relationship seemed easy, like they knew each other well.
They also shared similar features. While Ben was tall, Erin was, too, maybe a little taller than five and a half feet, about my height. They both shared peachy undertones and sandy blonde hair with a set of almond shaped brown eyes, Erin's a deep chocolate and Ben's a smooth honey. Because Ben had CP, some of his facial features were different, more pronounced, tighter, such as his cheek structure and brow bone. But, when I looked at the two of them side-by-side, there was no mistaking that they were brother and sister, much in thanks to their similar features, but also because of the bond I felt between them.
Ben and Erin were now scouring the selection of pet beds. I noticed a small chew toy in Erin's hand as she turned to get a better view of the bedBen was pointing out. He then pulled it down, glanced at the price, and shifted to face me.
"This bed is sixty dollars," he said. "You're not making any money out of this deal."
Cocking an eyebrow, I shrugged. "It's what Erikson wanted. I don't question his ways." And that was the truth.
Ben kept reading the price tags of other beds. "This is the cheapest one."
"Ben," Erin cooed, "the nice owner offered a free bed – he knew Rocket was going to a good home – why not take the nicest one? He knew what he was doing when he told you to pick one out."
I couldn't help but chuckle. It was such a Cambrie thing to say.
After a few more minutes of deliberation, Ben decided on a dog bed that was median in price. He brought it and the chew toy up to the counter, Rocket lunging behind him trying to grab the toy, and drew out a plastic card.
"It's just going to be fifty dollars," I said, catching the black eyes of Rocket, and realizing this may be the last time I would ever seen him. The thought made my heart prickle.
After Ben had paid and said his thanks, he and Erin rounded everything up, ready to take Rocket to his new home.
"It was really nice to meet you, Elliot," Erin said brightly.
"You too."
Ben shot me one last smile and said, "Guess I'll see you at practice. Maybe we can meet in the library this week for the project."
"Sure," I responded, surprised at how defrosted my reply was compared to the other times he'd asked me to meet.
Erin slid a careful look at her brother, a thought brewing inside her head. Ben seemed to catch on and ushered everyone to the door, saying, "Thanks again, Elliot," over his shoulder.
But before they left the confines of the store, I heard Erin whisper, "That's the girl you drove home?"