“That will be eight hundred dollars,” I say to the family who’s about to adopt a purebred British bulldog.

Yessi scowls at them. She tried in vain to convince them to adopt a dachshund mix, but they wouldn’t budge. 

I get it though. For years, all I wanted was a bulldog, the mascot of my beloved Marine Corps. I wanted to name him Grady, after my buddy who was awarded the Medal of Honor. Half of Grady’s face was blown off, but he was lucky enough to live. He found himself a beautiful wife, Isa, and is now speaking on college campuses. I fucking love that guy. If it weren’t for him, I’d be dead. 

The family beams at their new puppy. “Oh, we can’t wait to breed her!”

Oh fuck. I don’t even need to look at Yessi. I know she’s going to go off.

“Well, too bad for that, because all of our dogs are fixed, including the puppies.” She’s smiling, but it’s probably more accurate to describe her expression as a shit-eating grin.

The man’s eyes nearly bug out of his skull. “Fixed? You fixed all the puppies?”

“Yes. She’s actually four months old. She was fixed last week. Dissolvable stitches, so they don’t need to be removed. But our adoption policy requires all dogs to be fixed before placement. When would you like to set up your home check?” Typical Yessi. Straight to business.

His eyes glaze over. “Home check? Lady, we’re about to spend eight hundred on this puppy. And you fixed her, so we can’t make our money back. Now you want to come to our home too? What else do you want? Our firstborn child?”

I want to laugh but decide to hold my tongue. 

Yessi calmly continues, “We understand how much money you’re about to pay. But you’re very lucky to get this puppy, as she will be one of the last purebred bulldog puppies we’ll ever get. We’re turning the store into a shelter-only adoption center. Home checks are required. We aren’t trying to judge the way you live, but we need to make sure you have a secure fence and gate around your pool if you have one. You don’t have to adopt this dog. It’s your choice.”

“Then forget about it.”

“Already forgotten,” Yessi retorts.

The man’s little girl bites her lower lip. “Please, Daddy? You said we could get a puppy.”

He kneels down to her level. “But Princess, we wanted to get her so you could witness the miracle of birth.”

I reach out my hand to stop Yessi before she launches into a verbal tirade. But I’m too slow.

“The miracle of birth? What a joke. Want to see the results of that miracle? Go visit the local animal shelter and see all the homeless dogs there who’ll be slaughtered because of people like you who want to breed puppies.”

Yessi picks up the bulldog and takes her back to her cage. 

“Hey, that’s my dog. I changed my mind. Bring her back.”

“Sorry, sir. You’re not approved to adopt her. And you said forgot about it,” Yessi yells.

Oh fuck. “Excuse me. I’m sorry about her. She’s a bit on edge. Please wait here. I’ll be right back.”

I race over to Yessi. “Babe, come on. You can’t just deny them because they wanted to breed her. She’s fixed so they won’t be able to.”

“Yes, I can. And I just did. This is my rescue, and now all the dogs’ adoptions are done through the rescue, including your puppies. Once you agreed to use our adoption contract, Pugs N Roses became liable for all these dogs. I don’t think they’re the right fit for this puppy.”

Breathe, Preston, breathe. “You haven’t done the home check yet. You could at least check them out and see.”

She scoffs. “What’s to see? I’ve already seen everything I need to know.”

I’m crazy about this woman, but she drives me insane. “Yessi, dammit. They want to adopt her. Give them a chance.”

She grabs their application. “Did you see this? They want to crate her all day and night. I have no problem with using a crate for housetraining, but I don’t want her stuck in a crate for her entire life. Who would crate a puppy? I bet they’ll lock her up all day.” She pets the bulldog. “Poor baby doesn’t want to be in a crate, do you? You’re a good girl. Yes, you are.”

“You’re unbelievable.”

Yessi pouts like a child, but I have a hard time saying no to her. “No, I’m not. I just want the perfect home for her. We can find an amazing family with bully experience. Maybe someone who has senior bulldogs and will never ever buy one. I can list her. Don’t make me give her to them.”

I turn around and see the family walking out of the door. 

Great.

“See, they didn’t want her anyway,” Yessi says with a shrug. She goes back to fussing over the bulldog puppy. I groan and place my hand on my forehead.

“Yessi! Are you serious right now? I needed that sale. We won’t be making much on your rescue dogs. And I already slashed the prices of the puppies when we fixed them. I know money’s not the point, but I need to be able to pay the rent.” 

“You’ll have to switch your business model, that’s all. We can do yappy hours, puglates, doga? Maybe your ex can teach a class here.”

“Doubtful. She flaked on the opening. Look, I’m happy you and your friends are working with me, especially since Hugh ghosted, but you can’t drive customers away. They’ll kill us in online reviews.”

The bulldog moans when Yessi rubs her ears. “Fine. I’m sorry. I’ll try to relax. Being around all these breeder puppies is hard for me. But I’ll make it up to you.”

Now we’re talking. I lower my voice. “What did you have in mind?”

“I’ll show you later tonight.”