Book 1–Doggoned Dead excerpt

Chapter 1

 

     If you must choose between two evils, pick the one you haven’t tried before.  It’s a dicey tactic, but it makes life more exhilarating.  I should know. 

     Take Monday, when Roxie from the National Bull Terrier Rescue called.  “Linnie, there’s a Bull Terrier at the shelter in Stickney Mills.” 

     Bull Terriers are my passion I’ve rescued and placed them in good homes for twenty-five years.  Every time someone calls about one in distress, I’m off like a shot.  

     Just before the turn-off, near the Boyd Shelter sign, I passed a grey Chevy Caprice sedan, parked half on the shoulder.  It had dark tinted windows, and a prismatic, triangular sticker on the back window, but I couldn’t read it as I pulled around the car to turn into the shelter’s narrow driveway.  The driveway continued back through a wooded area and into a small parking lot. 

     I parked my aged Dodge Caravan between a green Jeep and a brown Ford station wagon. The new bright red front doors wouldn’t open when I turned the  brass handle and tugged. 

     Strange.  Arlene and Wendy knew I’d arrive here after five and had agreed to wait.  I called the shelter’s number on my cell phone and could hear the phone ringing inside the building.  The voice mail picked up after the fifth ring.  I didn’t wait for the message to finish, thinking that maybe they’d popped out for some dinner, certain they’d be back before I arrived.  The weather was warm for March, so I waited outside for while.  I paced the parking lot, admired the improved landscaping, and imagined what the gardens in front of the building would look like in full bloom. 

     After ten minutes or so went by, I took a stroll around the building to check out the dog runs they’d rebuilt.  They were very nice and a lot sturdier than the old ones.  As I walked along them, I noticed that one of the outside gates stood slightly ajar.  This was where the first choice between two evils came in.  I asked myself, Linnie Lowell, do you follow your instincts and trespass by going inside through the run?  Sam would have my head for that.  On the other hand, do you make the two-hour drive back home and leave the dog to its fate?  I have no patience, except when I’m training a dog and since I was here, leaving a dog behind to die was not an option. 

     I’d also gone on wild goose chases before.  Why not go in and see if they really had a Bull Terrier and not some dog that they thought was one?  Curiosity got the better of me; I tugged the gate open and slipped into the run. 

 

 

 

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