Once we’re inside, I only have a few minutes to get Kendra up to speed before I have to leave the puppies behind for my usual morning routine. Every other animal in the building seems to be making a fuss about their delayed breakfast, barking ranging from deep and grumbling to yippy filling the hallways.

We’re not exactly a big city shelter, so it doesn’t take long to let most of the eight other dogs currently in our care, out into the enclosed yard. Two stay behind in their kennels, one is an older basset hound, because she tends to get a little growly at the more energetic dogs, and the other is a short haired, brown mutt whose leg is still in a cast from when he was brought in two weeks ago, after being hit by a car.

I fill up each dog’s food and water bowls, cleaning up any messes left behind from the night before. We have a pretty good bunch right now, I expect most of their bathroom breaks are happening outside, making the cleanup a little easier for me later. While this stuff isn’t exactly my favorite part of my volunteer gig, I don’t hate it as much as I let people think I do. I’ve never been squeamish, and there are only so many piles of dog poop one person can see before becoming at least a little desensitized.

I get everyone back inside using my excited voice with a few hotdog shaped bribes, before moving onto the cat room where I admittedly go through my list of chores a little faster than usual. Most days, I don’t mind stopping to say hello to each of our feline guests, but right now, I just want to get to the back room.

By the time a flurry of excited barks stirs up from where I left Kendra, I’ve done enough to warrant checking back in with her, quickly making my way down the hall and past the shelter’s lone bird—a little blue parakeet named Monster. He’s lived at the Fairview Humane Society longer than I’ve lived in this town. He still has no interest in people at all. He won’t mind in the slightest if it takes me a little longer than usual to get to refilling his pellets and water.

“How’s it going in here?” I ask as I slip inside the examination room, quickly closing the door behind me as one of the pups barrels toward me. Each of the six looks more or less the same, with a random pattern of brown and white fur, but I could swear this was the same one who was excited to see me when I found them under the flower shop’s porch.

Kendra has two of the puppies up on the examination table, doing her best to keep one still as she examines the other.

“Want me to get him down on the floor?” I ask.

“No thanks. As soon as these two are out of sight of one another, this one starts screaming bloody murder.” My boss tilts her head toward the dog whose heartbeat she’s currently listening to. "I probably shouldn't have let them all out at the same time, but I figured they can’t go very far very fast. So far, they're proving me wrong at a mile a minute."

"How old do you think they are?"

"Somewhere between five and six weeks. Though it's hard to say for sure, since I have absolutely no background on these dogs. Mixed breed, certainly. You almost never see purebred puppies abandoned. So having these puppies here is not a surprise."

I'm about to lean over and pick up the puppy who is tugging on my shoelace, when the back door swings open after a quick double knock. Immediately, I move to corral the two puppies who are making a mad dash for the exit. I slide across the linoleum floor, kicking my legs out awkwardly to create a barrier between one puppy who is whiter and apparently far faster than the rest and the door. I'm practically sprawled out on the floor looking at an unfamiliar pair of sneakers, when I hear a deep chuckle coming from above me. Looking up, I see a guy about my age who looks vaguely familiar.

"Good, John. You're here. Did your search came up short?" Kendra asks the guy, who I now know is named John. He shuts the door behind him.

"I've looked everywhere I could think of in a four-block radius, making pretty much anyone I ran into help me look. By now, the entire town should be on watch for any escaped puppies."

I pull myself up off the ground as Kendra announces, "Reece, this is my nephew, John. I think you two are in the same grade, no?"

John smiles while I'm still standing there like an idiot trying to place his face from my memory. "We had math together last year," he says. I nod along like I knew this all along. I copy his motions while getting a little distracted by the way his shaggy brown hair moves with each bob of his head.

A moment later, recognition dawns on me. We did have a class together last semester! I never saw much more than the back of his head, since I frequently made a point of sitting at the very back of the classroom. I think he was usually at the front.

"How's it going?" I ask, mostly because it's what you say. I turn away before he answers, nudging one of the puppies with my foot as I try to hide the heat in my face. How had I not noticed how cute this guy was last year? How had I not known he was related to the very same woman I've been working with for the past few months?

It'd taken a pretty big favor for me to get this volunteer spot, and since Fairview High School requires that all of their students complete volunteer hours before graduating, I'd wanted this gig pretty badly. Realizing I had a class with Kendra’s nephew might have helped create an opening for me to get in even earlier, at least it all worked out in the end though.

"Is there anything else I can do to help before I head back home?" John asks before scooping up the puppy closest to him. "It's not often you get puppies in here, so I’m yours to command."

This guy has a soft spot for dogs. Good to know.

"John and his mom usually foster some of the more persnickety dogs we get in." Kendra explains. "I'm going to need your help with these guys too. They are far too young to be away from their mother, they’re going to be on formula for at least a few weeks. At least whoever decided to do away with these little guys did it while you were on summer vacation." The vet smirks at her nephew. He grins back, clearly excited.

"You know my mom loves the quiet older dogs who don't need much exercise and never really making much noise, but somehow I think we can get her on board with this plan. Besides, I think she could use a change of pace for a few weeks.”

Kendra nods knowingly. I’m missing something here. Obviously, I’m not about to ask to be let in on their family drama. A second later, it’s my own family dominating my thoughts. I have an idea, and I think it’s a good one.

"I didn't realize the shelter did fostering as well." I say, wanting to get back in the conversation, as images of fostering a puppy whirl through my head. For years, my parents have sworn they will never let us have any pets of our own, saying that four teenage girls are already more than enough responsibility for them. Maybe fostering a dog temporarily is an option they’d never considered. Maybe it's something they could be talked into, especially if it's a puppy. Albeit, a puppy that still needs to be bottle-fed and will probably insist on chewing up everything it can get its teeth on in our house. I will not include that in the pitch. Still, this could work.

Kendra rambles on about some of the higher maintenance dogs she's had at the shelter over the years, while I watch her nephew prepare some puppy formula that had been stored in one of the back cupboards for who knows how long. I'm about to ask what it would take for my family to be able to do what John’s does, when I feel my phone buzz in my back pocket. I can't remember the last time I'd gone this long without checking my text messages, but it's been a pretty eventful morning.

While Kendra has never been particularly warm toward me, she's also been pretty easy-going when it comes to cell phones while I'm on shift. Maybe it's because I'm not actually getting paid. Or quite possibly because the dogs don't care if I'm texting someone else while throwing the ball for them in the back.

Rhiannon: Okay, if you're still in the locker room, the least you can do is tell us. We have been waiting here for half an hour to cheer you on and there’s still no sign of you. Aren't they starting in like twenty minutes?

My heart stops as my eyes dart up to the clock in the corner of my screen. It's already just after ten thirty, an hour past when my shift was supposed to end. My morning visit had only really been intended as a quick stop over to feed and water the animals before the shelter officially opened for the day.

I have somewhere else I'm supposed to be. Somewhere else I've been imagining for almost a year now. When my family and I first moved to Fairview, I missed the tryouts for the school soccer team, because I hadn't known they were happening before the school year even started. Today is supposed to be my do-over.

Now, I'm minutes away from my second chance, and I am about to miss it all over again!

Except, I still have time to get there, but only if I start moving pretty much now. So much for taking time to prep myself, focus or stretch or any of it.

"Crap, I'm sorry. I really gotta go. I didn't realize how late it was getting."

"Right. Soccer tryout." Kendra says, surprising me that she'd been listening to my ramblings these past few months. "Good luck!"

I nod, already moving toward the door. The little brown dog is after me, still tugging at my now completely untied shoelace. Before I can distract her long enough for me to make my escape, John moves to grab her from the ground, picking up the other puppy currently peeing right beside the door in the same motion.

His green eyes lock onto mine in the same moment my hand hits the back door handle. "Thanks." I say, forcing myself not to look away. Usually this kind of thing, guys, comes pretty easily, but something about today has me completely off balance. This is the exact opposite of where I need to be by the time I get to the school's soccer field, starting to try out. I need to get my head on straight again, and fast.

John shrugs and turns away before I can say anything else. I don't have any more time to think about him, puppies, or anything else other than soccer.

I feel a little silly as I sprint down Main Street toward the high school, but nobody gives me a second look since I probably look like I'm just out for a jog. As I’m pressed for time, I push myself to move a little faster.

I guess this is as much of a warm up as I'm going to get.