The Accidental Adoption

  The Accidental Adoption

  By Lucy Felthouse

  Text Copyright 2018 © Lucy Felthouse.

  All Rights Reserved.

  Smashwords edition.

  With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the aforementioned author.

  Warning: The unauthorised reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded or distributed via the Internet or any other means, electronic or print, without the author’s written permission.

  This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.

  Cover art by Studioenp.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  About the Author

  If You Enjoyed The Accidental Adoption

  Chapter One

  As soon as Rosie stepped into the kennel area, she feared she’d made a huge mistake. Barks, whines, yips, and the sounds of furry bodies climbing and bouncing up against the wire of the cages filled her ears. Her heart pounded and her mouth went dry. She froze just past the doorway, hovering on the very edge of indecision. Should she carry on, or turn and leave? Would she be able to cope with the emotional battering she’d undoubtedly get if she continued? All those sad faces, those soulful eyes, tragic stories… she’d want to take them all home, and neither she nor her compact house and garden were equipped for that.

  She closed her eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. Come on, Rosie, get a bloody grip! You can’t save them all.

  Nodding and gritting her teeth, her decision made, she walked tentatively towards the first kennel. The dog that greeted her was gorgeous—a mass of black fur, lolling tongue, heavy panting and frantically wagging tail. Aww! Already Rosie’s heart was melting, but she knew she had to be sensible about this. Lovely as… she read the information notice stapled to the kennel’s frame… Aidan was, he was far, far too big for her house and garden. The poor boy would go stir crazy.

  She’d thought long and hard about getting a dog, had weighed up the pros and cons, figured out costs and budget, and come to the decision that it was perfectly doable, as long as she found the right one. For his or her sake, as well as her own. No point in rescuing a dog if she couldn’t keep up with its need for exercise, or couldn’t afford to feed its enormous appetite or make the pet insurance payments. That would be worse than leaving it where it was, to be potentially adopted by someone who could provide those things.

  She gave Aidan a fond smile. “Sorry, beautiful boy. I think you’re amazing, but you’re too big. Someone’s going to come along soon who’s got acres of land, though, and they’re going to snap you up. You’ll have an amazing time!”

  He wagged his tail faster and cocked his head, as though digesting her words. Then he padded over to a pile of blankets in the corner of the kennel, flopped down and rested his head on his paws.

  Rosie moved on. The next enclosure held a pair of Border Terriers, who yipped excitedly and ran around in circles as she read their information packet. She sighed and looked at the delightfully scruffy duo. “Sorry, you nutters. You’re actually the right sort of size, but it says here you’d prefer to be re-homed together, since you’re from the same litter and have been together all your lives. There’s no way I want to separate you, so I’m afraid we’re not a match.”

  The terriers, in their excitement, were now play-fighting, and therefore hardly noticed when Rosie stepped away. She chuckled. Not a match. This is like a bloody dating show. But the thought cemented the idea in her head that, if she was going to give a forever home to a dog, they needed to be a good match. It went both ways. She might find a dog that ticked all her boxes, but if they didn’t get along, or the dog didn’t like her, she couldn’t take it home. She had to be as picky about a dog as she was about men—possibly more so. If a man wasn’t right for her, she could break it off—no harm done, except perhaps a smidge of bruised pride or some disappointment. If a dog wasn’t right, she’d have to bring it back to the rescue center, and she really, really didn’t want to do that. That would be heartbreaking for all concerned.

  The only trouble was, if she had to be pickier over a dog than a man, then chances were she’d go home empty-handed. She’d been single for over two years. There’d been the occasional date, but only ever first dates, no follow-ups—Rosie didn’t believe in stringing anyone along if she wasn’t attracted to them. And it hadn’t been through lack of trying, either. She wasn’t desperate, and she didn’t believe that being in a relationship was the only way to be happy, but she’d attempted dating websites, allowed her friends to set her up, and had also been open to possibilities when she’d been out and about doing menial tasks like grocery shopping, or out socializing. She’d now adopted the attitude of if it happens, it happens; if it doesn’t, it doesn’t.

  Damn it. If she couldn’t find a bloke she liked in the reasonably populated area she lived in, how on earth was she going to find a dog in this rescue center which held only fifty dogs?

  With patience. You look at them all objectively at first, and if there’s a cutie that’s right, you go from there. If there isn’t, you leave and try again in a couple of weeks.

  She gave a firm nod. Objectively—that’s how she had to play this. She’d have to disengage her emotions altogether and glance over each animal as though it was a piece of fruit or a vegetable in the supermarket. Assess its shape and size, its suitability for her requirements. Then, and only then, could she let her emotions be involved. It was a weird and kind of heartless way of going about things, but it was also responsible. Better that than falling head over heels for a Great Dane or an Irish Wolfhound.

  This tactic lasted for precisely eleven further enclosures. Too big, too big, need to be re-homed together, needs to be in a house with other dogs, reactive, needs extensive training… each one was quickly checked out, then passed by for whatever reason.

  But when Rosie arrived at the twelfth kennel, everything changed. The scruffy beast in front of her was perfectly suitable size-wise, and it rushed towards her, panting happily, tongue lolling and tail wagging so fast it was a blur. She tentatively put her fingers to the wire and was treated to a volley of enthusiastic doggy kisses. With a chuckle, she pulled her hand back and wiped it on her jeans. “Well, you’re friendly and affectionate enough, aren’t you?” She glanced to the side. “But where’s your information card, sweetie? I don’t know your name, if you’re a boy or a girl, or anything.”

  Like Aidan before it, the dog tilted its head to one side at the sound of her voice. It really was cute. It was some kind of mixed breed—a Collie with something smaller, she suspected, and the result was a lively, unkempt-looking creature which appeared to have a lovely nature. Its scruffiness wasn’t due to its situation, though—it actually looked incredibly healthy; bright eyes, shiny coat, wet nose.

  Rosie’s heart sunk. That probably wasn’t a good thing. If the dog looked healthy, it likely hadn’t been missing for long—meaning its owners were probably looking for it and would arrive to claim him or her very soon, or there was a particular reason the creature had been handed in to the rescue center. Maybe it wasn’t good with children, or other dogs, or was terribly destructive.

  The dog sat there, continuing to watch her from beneath its bushy eyebrows as its tail wagged nineteen to the dozen. She couldn’t resist poking her fi
ngers into the enclosure again. Once more, she got lots of friendly licks. Hmm—seems nice enough with me. And he or she is the right kind of size. Maybe the information card hasn’t been put up yet, or has got lost? Guess it can’t hurt to go and find out.

  Wiping her slobber-covered hand on her jeans again, Rosie said, “Right, don’t get your hopes up, but I’m going to go and enquire about you. There’s a chance we could become friends, but I need to know more about you first, okay?”

  Yet more head tilting and tail wagging ensued, followed by a funny growl that sounded awfully like agreement.

  “Good. Be back soon. Hopefully.” She gave the dog a smile, coming to the conclusion she was already losing her heart to it. Bugger. So much for being detached. She hurried to the reception area of the rescue center and went up to the desk. The woman behind it was just ending a telephone call, so Rosie waited.

  The woman hung up, made a quick note on the pad in front of her, then looked up at Rosie with a smile. “Hello. How can I help you?”

  Rosie returned the woman’s smile. “Hi. I’m looking for a dog to adopt. I’ve been and had a look in a few of your kennels and found one that I think could be a good fit for me, but there’s no information card. It’s the…” she paused to do some quick mental arithmetic, “fourteenth kennel from the door. A black and white Collie-looking thing with some tan markings and mad eyebrows. He or she is gorgeous—and so friendly.”

  The woman chuckled. “Yeah, I know the one you mean. The dog warden just dropped him off today, actually. Unfortunately, other than his sex, we don’t know anything about him. We’ve nicknamed him Scruffy for now, but he’s certainly an enigma.”

  “Oh?” Rosie frowned. “Why’s that?”

  “Well, I’m not sure if you’re aware, but since 2016 there’s been a law in place that says owners must have their dog micro-chipped and ensure the associated contact details are kept up to date. This has meant that almost every dog that’s been brought to us since has been chipped. Obviously some dogs are handed over voluntarily, but for those that have been lost or have escaped by accident, we’ve been able to scan their micro-chips, contact the owners and get them reunited really quickly. It’s been amazing. But this boy, Scruffy, is healthy and happy, definitely not your typical neglected stray and yet… no chip. Hence we know next to nothing about him. The vet hasn’t even seen him yet.”

  Rosie nodded slowly as she tried to process this information. “So… what exactly are you saying? He’s not up for adoption?” Her heart sank. Typical—she’d found a dog she thought might be a good match, and he wasn’t available!

  With a shrug, the woman replied, “It’s difficult to say. Not right now, certainly. The dog warden found him early this morning in some local woodland. He put him on a lead then looked for his owner, but found no one. When he couldn’t find a micro-chip, he brought him here. So now we have to make every effort we can to locate Scruffy’s owner. Only once a certain period of time has passed can we actually allow anyone to start the process of adopting him. I’m sure you can appreciate that if we just handed a dog over to an interested party, the owner could then show up, completely devastated and furious that we’d let their pet go home with someone else. I’m sorry to be so vague. On the one hand, Scruffy’s owner could be found and he could be reunited with them, but on the other, we might not find them. In that case, yes, we’d be looking for a new home for him.”

  Rosie frowned. “Can I… put my name on some kind of waiting list for him? I’m really, really keen to adopt a dog, but I’m trying to be sensible about the whole thing. I can’t have one that’s too big as my house and garden just aren’t spacious enough—it wouldn’t be fair. Scruffy is perfect, size-wise, and we get along great. I tried really hard not to, and I know it’s silly of me, but I’ve already started falling for him.”

  The woman pursed her lips thoughtfully, then said, “Trust me, I know it’s easy to do. I’ve worked here long enough to be the expert on that! I can definitely take your details down and contact you once we’ve found out one way or the other what’s happening with Scruffy, but you could be in for a long wait. Are you sure you’re okay with that? You don’t want to carry on looking and see if one of the other dogs might be suitable? If you only got to kennel fourteen, you’ve still got over thirty to go.”

  Rosie sighed and let her shoulders slump. “I don’t know. I just don’t think my heart would be in it now. Can I… go and see him again?”

  “Do you think that’s a good idea?” The woman raised her eyebrows. “You might fall for him even more, and if we then find his owners…”

  She didn’t need to finish the sentence. Rosie knew exactly what she was getting at. She pulled in and released a deep breath, then said with a wry smile, “I’m a big girl—I’ll be fine. I just have to go and tell him that if you don’t find his owners, I’ll wait for him.”

  With eyes full of empathy, the woman replied kindly, “You go ahead, sweetheart. Just make sure to leave your details here before you go so we can contact you if no one claims him. It sounds like he’d have an incredibly loving home with you.”

  “Great, thank you!”

  Chapter Two

  Three and a half weeks later

  Rosie was right in the middle of a hearty rendition of ABBA’s Super Trouper as she dusted her living room when her mobile phone rang—cutting out the music, since it was being played through her iPhone. She jumped and gasped, then retrieved the device from the docking station. She looked at the number on the screen and frowned. It had a local area code, but other than that, she didn’t recognize it. With a shrug, she pressed the green button. “Hello?”

  “Hello, is this Rosie?”

  “Speaking.”

  “Oh, hi. This is Janice, from the rescue center. We spoke a few weeks ago, about Scruffy?”

  Rosie’s eyes widened and her stomach flipped. “Y-yes, that’s right. Is he…?” Is he what? She didn’t really know what she wanted to ask—mainly because she had a million questions—so she didn’t continue.

  “He’s fine,” Janice said warmly, clearly picking up on Rosie’s concern. “I’m just calling with an update, as promised. Since we last spoke, we’ve been trying hard to find his owners, but no one has come forward. He’s also had a health check—which he passed with flying colors—and has now been immunized and micro-chipped. So basically, what I’m saying is, are you still interested in adopting him?”

  The duster fell from Rosie’s free hand as she brought it to her mouth. Her heart raced, but she forced herself to reply, before Janice thought she was crazy, or a time waster. “Yes!” She lowered her voice. “Sorry, yes. I’m definitely still interested. What’s the process?”

  “Great. Well, we’d have to do a home check…” She went on to outline the adoption process, and Rosie took all the information in, nodding enthusiastically throughout, despite the fact Janice couldn’t see her.

  She finished with, “…and providing all that goes okay, you could potentially be welcoming Scruffy into your home within a matter of days.”

  “That would be fantastic. I’d love to adopt him. Let’s get started!”

  ****

  Four days later, Rosie was on her way to the rescue center, nervous sweat making her hands damp as she gripped the steering wheel of her car. She could hardly keep up with what was happening—the last few days had been a bit of a blur. There’d been a home check to ensure her house and garden were suitable, safe and secure, then she’d visited Scruffy at the center and had ‘met’ him without the kennel wire between them, before taking him for a walk around the center’s grounds. It had all gone incredibly well—and Scruffy had been so ridiculously pleased to see her that her heart had melted for him all over again. It was like they were best friends already, and nothing had been made official yet.

  But now it was official—or almost, anyway. She’d made a hurried shopping trip to pick up everything Scruffy would need—bed, food and water bowls, collar, lead, food, toys and so on—and
had brought the collar, complete with identity tag, and lead with her. She let out a little squeal and bobbed in her seat—very soon, that lovely boy would be hers!

  A little while later she pulled into the rescue center car park, found a space, and parked up. She forced herself not to rush—everything in her wanted to run into the reception area and get things finalized, but she didn’t want the staff to think she was just an overexcited, emotional mess. Internally, of course, that’s exactly what she was—but she wanted to convince them she was also responsible and sensible, therefore a perfectly suitable new owner for Scruffy. No way was she going to ruin everything at the last minute.

  She allowed herself a huge grin while no one was looking. Then, toning it down, she got out of the car, retrieved her handbag, which held the lead and collar as well as the usual stuff, and walked briskly—she couldn’t help but let a sliver of her enthusiasm bubble out—to the reception. She entered, and immediately caught the eye of Janice—who she’d discovered never seemed to have a day off.

  Janice immediately came around the counter, smiling. “Rosie! Hello. I wasn’t expecting you quite so early.”

  She shrugged. “I’ve booked a few days off work so I can be at home while Scruffy is settling in. I know he’s toilet trained and everything, but it’ll be nice to be around so we can get properly acquainted and… bond, I guess.” Her cheeks heated. “Does that sound silly?”

  Shaking her head, Janice replied, “No, it doesn’t sound silly at all. It’s not a necessity, but it’s a very sensible idea. It’s good of your bosses to let you have the time off at such short notice. You managed to get everything together, then?”

  “Yes, no problems there. I’ve got his collar, identity tag and lead with me, too, so he’s safe and legal from the minute he leaves the premises.”