Work Text:
"Can you text all that to me?"
He could practically hear Quinn roll her eyes over the phone. "No offense, Huck, but you're a spy. I'm pretty sure you can handle this."
"And you’re sure you can't just-"
"Goodnight, Huck." She hung up before he could protest further.
One of the things he’d liked most about the apartment was that it had its own entrance. The narrow concrete stairway that led to his front door looked more like a service entrance than a walkway to a residence. Occasionally he would come home to find the odd homeless person or kissing teenagers huddled outside. And usually they would scurry away of their own volition. Mostly people just left him alone. But this. He didn’t know how to deal with this.
It was a dog and he'd found it curled up on his stoop when he came home. Or at least he assumed it was a dog. Because last time he checked there weren't deer in downtown DC. But the thing was about the same size, all bones and awkward shivering limbs, panting despite the cold. Its teeth were yellow. It’s muzzle was caked in what he’d hoped wasn’t blood. And every time Huck got close to the door the thing circled and barked and made like it was going to charge.
It wasn't that he was afraid of dogs. Or that he had something against them. Generally speaking, he liked dogs. As a concept anyway. But that didn't mean he knew anything about them. That's why he called Quinn.
She had seemed confused at first- "What makes you think I know anything about dogs?" -but his desperation soon became obvious. And she'd given him step by step instructions. Huck shoved his phone back in his pocket. It had been snowing all day. And they’d been doing this dance for almost an hour. He couldn't feel his fingers. And it wasn't like he could just stay out here.
"Alright," he said. "We can do this."
1. Gain their trust.
Just as she’d instructed, he’d taken off his gloves and crouched down in the snow so the shaking animal could smell his hands. Huck had faced down trained killers and whole armies. But he’d never been so scared in his life, letting that dog press it’s cold nose against his palm.
Note: It’s probably scared. So if it starts to look nervous just talk to it, softly, nicely. The dog probably doesn't know English. So it doesn't matter what you say so long as your tone is nice, that’s all that matters.
It had a collar and the tag said Billie. But the address and phone number were too worn down to read. For the first time in years he thought about his mother, the way she would talk to him after his father had yelled at him or he’d had a run in with an older kid at school. And he tried to mimic that tone.
“Billie? Like Holiday,” he said quietly and experimentally scratched behind the dog’s ear. “That’s a pretty nice name for a dog. It’s ok. God, you’re cold. It’s gonna be ok...”
Up close he could see the thing was missing teeth. Part of the nose and left ear were missing as well. Its breath was noxious. And the thing nuzzled up to Huck and licked his face. He groaned and fell back in the snow.
2. Make them comfortable.
When Huck unlocked the door the thing that was named Billie and looked mostly like a dog but sort of like a deer bounded inside. When he’d come in off the street it had been hard adapting to domesticity. There were still things he didn’t get and didn’t do, like vacuuming and having art on the walls. And this dog looked as though it had been on the street as long as he had. But it obviously didn’t have that problem. Before Huck even had his coat off it had staked out a spot in the center of his unmade sofa bed, tracking mud and snow all over the sheets. He didn’t think dogs could sigh, but this one did, stretching out it’s boney limbs and rolling onto its back. All the scrap and fight had faded out of it and been replaced with such pure contentment that Huck couldn’t bring himself to be mad.
3.Provide adequate food and water.
“So what the hell do you eat?”
The animal began to wag it’s tail at the mention of food. Huck didn’t know exactly what a suitable substitute for dog food would be and considered calling Quinn back to ask.
Note: It’s just a dog, Huck. This isn’t that hard.”
So Huck made what he usually made himself for dinner, soup out of a can and split it between the two of them. He put the bowl of chicken noodle and a tupperware container of water on a towel on the floor. And as they ate, Huck’s fear turned into a kind of fascination. He wanted to know if all dogs made that sort of snorting noise while they ate. He liked the way its whole back end seemed to shake with excitement when he put the food down in front of it. He wondered if it was male or female. And why, when the food was gone, did he find himself emptying the random contents of his refrigerator into the dogs bowl.
4.Take them for a walk.
Note: Make sure you walk it before you got to bed. You don’t want to wake up to a mess.
Huck didn’t own a leash so he would need one of those. For the time being he tied a spare ethernet cable to the dog’s collar and they both ventured back out into the cold to stand awkwardly in the light of a street lamp while the thing took a shit beside a dumpster. Huck wondered briefly if he should clean it up. He saw other dog owners do that. He was not doing that.
5. Give them a bath.
Note: If the dog doesn’t want a bath, don’t force it, unless you’re cool with losing a finger.
It more than smelled. The dog was rank, like a mix of garbage and more garbage. Huck was curious to know what color its fur was under all that dirt. He’d let the dog smell his hands and hadn’t lost any appendages. So maybe he could brave this too.
He tried out the dogs name for the first time. “Billie, come’er. Come on. It’s ok...” The dog left a trail of mud and paw prints from his bed to the bathroom. Huck spent an embarrassing amount of time making sure the water temperature was just right before rolling up his jeans to perch on the edge of the bathtub. The dog didn't seem to dislike being bathed. But it wouldn't stay still either. Kept splashing and jumping up on his knees. And it wasn’t long before Huck was soaked, too. He had to change out the water twice.
After, Huck sat on the bathroom floor and toweled the mutt off. He was mostly sure now that Billie was a girl. And it turned out that the dog was a rich pale brown with a black face and one black paw.
6. Give them a place to sleep
A Google image search confirmed that it Billie was probably a boxer. Or a great dane. Maybe a little bit pit bull. Something in between. According to Wikipedia they were all high energy breeds. Prone to hip problems. Fiercely loyal. Liked to chew things and raid garbage cans. So he stashed his shoes and the wastebasket beneath the sink before getting ready for bed.
Huck changed into sweats and changed the muddy sheets on the bed. In movies and on TV dogs were not allowed on the sofa/bed/what have you. He remembered when his family got the golden retriever puppy. And the dad had spent a whole slew of Saturdays training it not to jump on the furniture. But something shy in the back of Huck’s mind thought, well there’s no place else so Billie can just sleep in the bed. And before he could talk himself out of it Huck switched off the light, crawled into bed and patted the mattress for the dog to join him.
She curled up warm and heavy against his side.
7. Take it to the animal shelter in the morning.
Quinn had offered to come by in the morning, before work, and drive him over. As soon as it was asleep the dog began to snore. And Huck lay there listening to its big huffed out breaths for a long time before making up his mind.
He scrambled out of bed in the dark and picked up his phone. Quinn answered on the third ring, sounding only half awake.
“Yes, Huck?”
“You don’t need to come over tomorrow.”
“Oh?"
“No. And I don’t think I’ll be coming in tomorrow. Tell Olivia for me?"
"What? You never miss work."
"Well it said online, you shouldn't leave a dog alone on its first day in a new place"
"No, you probably shouldn't."
"Quinn?"
"Yeah, Huck?"
"Thanks for your help."