The Procedure by Tabatha Vargo, Melissa Andrea Page A

crazy for talking to the animals as if they understood me. I knew what the ladies saw because I say it, too. I was married—I wasn’t blind. Roman was beautiful—not just in the way he looked, but in the way he looked at people. It was hard to keep your eyes off him.
    As I moved around the room, my eyes landed on big, black dog. He was scruffy and way too big for the cage he was in. His fur hung from his lanky form, and I was sure he was in need a hot, soapy bath, but something about his eyes reminded me of Roman’s. They were caramel colored and kind. When I stepped up to his cage, he lowered his head in a skittish manner and gave my fingertips a quick lick before he moved toward the back of his cage.
    He seemed afraid and battered, as if he was a kindred spirit to my own. I understood his need to retreat—his need for affection, but his fear of trying to get it.
    “It’s okay,” I said softly as I kneeled down to his cage.
    His big, friendly eyes looked up at me and, again, he moved forward a bit to give my hand a quick lick.
    “I think he likes you,” Roman said from my side.
    “I like him, too,” I said with a smile. “He reminds me of you.” The words left my mouth before I realized how terrible it sounded.
    “Are you comparing me to a dog?” Roman asked, but I could hear the smile in his voice from above where I knelt.
    “What I mean is that he’s friendly. His eyes are light and friendly like yours. I could feel safe being around him.” I kept my head down, showering the big dog with the attention I was sure he needed.
    He wasn’t the cutest animal in the shelter, and I was sure no one could tell me what kind of dog he was. There were patches of hair missing along his hind legs, and it looked as if someone might have had something evil around his neck at some point, but still, I couldn’t take my eyes off his. He was just a big, sweet dog in need of affection, and I understood him.
    “Do you want him?” Roman asked from above me.
    “I think I do.”
    And just like that, Roman made him mine. After all the paperwork and a long hour of waiting for them to bring the dog around, I was surprised that Roman was totally okay with putting the giant, stinky dog in the back of his expensive and sleek sports car.
    Duke, as I so sweetly named him, took up the entire backseat and had a serious problem with gas. The ride back to Roman’s office was spent laughing with the windows down.
     
     
    “COME ON IN, DUKE . Make yourself at home, but don’t get too comfortable on the floor anywhere,” I said with a smile as I ushered my new pet into the house.
    The last thing I wanted was for him to leave any smelly surprises anywhere. I wasn’t positive he was house trained, but I’d stopped by the local pet store and got him everything he needed, along with a few pamphlets on house training an older dog.
    I spent the rest of the afternoon with Duke. I gave him a bath and fed him, before taking him to the backyard so he could get acquainted with his new home. He was shy and sheepish at first, but he soon caught a squirrel in his sight and took off across the backyard, barking and jumping with pure happiness.
    I’d saved him from what I was sure was an impending death at the shelter, and it felt good. I smiled to myself as I thought about the day I’d had with Roman. I thought about how he was with the children at the hospital and how he’d played with a tiny puppy at the shelter, but had stopped immediately as if he were too manly for such an act when he caught me looking at him.
    He really was a special man, and the lady who finally caught him was sure to be one lucky girl.
    “Duke!” I called out when I was ready to go back inside. “Come on, boy!”
    He turned as if he knew his name already and ran back toward me, ears flapping and tongue hanging out.
    When he reached me, he ran his wet nose into my palm before giving it a quick lick. Leaning down, I ran my fingers through his short fur and gave him a