Grocery shopping is the bane of my existence. Not that I don’t love to eat, and I actually love cooking healthy meals, finding new ways to make them taste good. But shit in LA is horrendously overpriced.

I pick up an off brand of whole grain rice and cringe at the six dollar price. Six dollars for rice? Jesus, rice should be like a dollar. I grumble as I toss it into my shopping cart.

One thing about growing up on a farm is I hate the idea of paying for food. We ate what we grew. It was a rare occasion to have anything in the refrigerator or the pantry that didn’t come from the farm. The business was dairy, but we had enough land for a small amount of crops as well, and of course, a chicken coop. Our cupboards were always stocked with preserves my mom made herself; we ate most of the cows we had to cull, and there were always fresh eggs and vegetables. It wasn’t the most varied diet, but it was nice to feed yourself with the labor from your own hands.

I pick up a bruised apple and groan with frustration.

“Peter?”

I spin to see Ryan, an ex of mine from about three years ago. He’s standing a few feet away, leaning against his cart, grinning at me. That was what I liked the most about Ryan, his easy smile.

“Hey, how’s it going?” I greet with a little wave, which he ignores, going straight for the awkward option of hugging me.

“Good, how have you been, Godzilla? I’ve seen you on the Ballsy website.”

I force an awkward smile, rubbing the back of my neck and praying for someone to start a fire or something to end this exchange. Because, is it just me or is it weird to tell an ex you’ve jerked off to porn they star in? Not that he said jerked off, but it’s implied. Plus, I totally forgot about that idiotic nickname he had for me.

“Uh, yeah. You know, same old.” I shrug.

“You look good.” He reaches out and places a hand on my bicep, giving it a little squeeze. His eyes glaze with lust, and he licks his lips.

Ugh, I forgot this about Ryan. His fetish for my muscles. I’m not sure I do a good job hiding my grimace as memories of Ryan goading dudes into fights at bars just so I’d come to his rescue come to the forefront of my mind.

“Thanks. Listen, I’ve gotta get going, but it was good bumping into you.” I extricate myself from his touch and hurry to put my cart between us before he can start groping me again.

“Yeah, my number is still the same if you ever feel like calling.”

“Uh, maybe,” I lie before hurrying to put some distance between him and me.

Rebel always bitched about the difficulty of dating as a porn star. That has its challenges, but no worse than the dating challenges that seem to come with being me. Not to get all self-loathing, because overall I’m happy with who I am, but for some reason, guys can’t seem to look past my size and furry exterior. It’s a bitch when your inside doesn’t quite match your outside, but that’s life, I guess. Maybe one day I’ll meet someone who can see past my burly exterior and realize I’d much rather spend a night cuddling on the couch watching movies than getting into a fist fight.

Now that I’m away from Ryan and thinking more clearly, I realize I should’ve taken him up on his offer for a hookup and tried to convince him to top me. He’s vers; he mentioned it several times when we dated. But, I suppose it wouldn’t likely end better than the bar, since he flat out refused to top me the one time I was drunk enough to ask him. He said, and I quote, If I wanted to fuck someone, I’d go find a pretty little twink. I keep you around to fuck me, keep it straight.

I grumble at the memory and shove a few final items into my shopping cart, then head to the check out.

Running into Ryan has something else on my mind now, too. His dog, Pudgy. I smile at the memory of the snuffly, gassy little pug that was probably the reason I stayed with Ryan as long as I did. It was nice to go over there at the end of a long day and have a little fur butt curl up in my lap. The sad thing is, I think Ryan could tell I liked his dog a little more than I liked him.

I guess it’s not surprising that I’ve always been an animal person, since I grew up on a farm. I’ve always found them a lot easier to understand than humans. Animals don’t play games, they don’t have preconceived ideas about you, they take in the information you give them and react to you based on that.

I should get a dog.

I always figured I wouldn’t have enough time for a dog, but now that the idea is in my mind, it feels vital. I bet Rebel and Bear wouldn’t mind me bringing a dog with me to the studio, as long as he was well behaved. And I spend most of my time at home aside from class, so he wouldn’t be left alone much. Plus, it would be nice to have something to take care of, something relying on me day in and day out. That last thought sends a pang of longing through me and not just for a pet, but that’s way too much to think about right now.

With my groceries secured in my saddle bag, I decide to go to the animal shelter near my apartment this afternoon, just to look.

* * *

A symphony of yips, growls, and howls greets me as I enter the shelter. The smell could be better, but I suppose when there are hundreds of animals housed in one place, there’s going to be a certain amount of unpleasant odor.

“Hi, how can I help you?” A young woman sitting at the welcome desk greets me.

“I’m looking for a dog. I think I’m just browsing, but maybe if the right dog catches my eye…”

“Understood. We’ll see if your new best friend is here somewhere,” she assures me, and a rare, genuine smile spreads across my face. A new best friend, that sounds nice. Obviously, I’m pathetic, but it still sounds nice.

She leads me back to the kennels where there seems to be a disproportionate number of boxer mixes.

“These poor guys have a hard time, since there’s a pit bull ban. Since they’re labeled as boxers, we don’t have to destroy them right away, but they don’t usually find homes,” she explains sadly.

“That’s terrible,” I frown and crouch down to pet one particularly wiggly boy. “I wish I could take you home, buddy.”

“I’m guessing you’re looking for something on the smaller side?”

“Yeah, not a ton of space in my apartment,” I explain. “Maybe an older dog with some training under his belt, because I’m planning to try taking him to work with me.”

“Oh, that’s great. What do you do for work?”

“Uh…” yeah, I walked right into that one. “Porn,” I admit after a few seconds of awkward silence.

Her eyes go wide and a slight blush creeps over her cheeks, and then her eyes start to wander, no doubt wondering what I look like naked.

“Oh, uh...that’s cool.”

An impatient yip from a nearby kennel breaks the uncomfortable moment, and I make my way over to see who’s so keen for attention. I chuckle when my eyes land on a scraggly little dog. He looks like he’s about twenty pounds, but he’s skinny so he’ll probably be around twenty-five to thirty when properly fed. His gray and brown strands of fur are standing up in all directions like he’s got a permanent case of bed head, and when he opens his mouth in a little doggy smile, I notice he’s missing a few teeth.

“What’s his story?”

“We’re not sure. He was brought in last month by someone who found him rummaging through the garbage behind a Chinese restaurant. He didn’t have a collar or a microchip, but he did know some basic commands. He was shy at first, but he’s warmed up to the staff quickly. Unfortunately, he’s kind of ugly, so no one is taking much interest in him.”

“He’s not ugly,” I argue, shuffling closer to the cage and sticking a finger in so he can sniff me. “Okay, maybe he’s a little ugly. But it’s a cute ugly.”

“His name’s Shaggy. I think he likes you.”

His nose snuffles along my hand, and then he tentatively licks me before backing up to wait for my reaction.

“I like him, too.” I smile and make a clicking noise with my tongue against my teeth to beckon him closer again. “You want to go home with me, little guy? What do you think Shaggy, can we be friends?”

He wags his tail and lets out another little yip of excitement.

“Want me to start the paperwork?”

“Yeah, let’s do this,” I agree, reluctantly standing up and moving away from his cage. “Once I fill out the application, there’s no chance someone else will get to take him home before I get approved is there?”

“Absolutely not, he’ll be put on hold, and it should only take a day or two for us to approve you to pick him up. I always tell people this is a good time to make sure you have his supplies. I have a checklist I can give you and some recommendations for food. How does that sound?”

“Sounds great.” Now that I’ve met him, I can’t wait to get Shaggy home. It’ll be nice to have something to curl up in bed next to me at night, to take care of.