“Yes,” Tom Fisher yelled back.
Kristi opened the door and went in. Beck followed and closed it behind them.
Tom and Judy King were valiantly attempting to get Nero back into his pen. He was growling and lashing out at them, trying to clamp his teeth down on anything that got near him. They were using an animal-control pole and brute force to try to get the dog back behind bars.
Beck was surprised to see this particular animal at the center of the trouble. He’d always seen it as one of the more docile ones. Then again, it was a fighting dog. That’s what it was trained to do.
In a corner, Bonnie Moebeck had Lilith, another of the pit bulls, pinned in a corner with a second animal-control pole. Kristi rushed over to offer her assistance.
The other fighting dogs barked and snarled in their pens, all except for Brando. By the way he circled his tight confines, he was clearly agitated, but he seemed to recognize that nothing he could do would change his situation. Beck took pride in Brando’s intelligence.
Tom and Judy finally wrestled Nero into his pen and locked the door. They then helped Kristi and Bonnie get the other dog confined.
“What the hell happened?” Kristi demanded.
“We had Nero out for his socialization test, and he did OK,” Tom Fisher said. “We brought Lilith out for hers, and as we were bringing him back, he went for her.”
“Goddamn it,” Kristi said. “You know you can’t take any chances with these dogs until they’re fully assessed. One dog out at a time. That’s the rule.”
The animal-behavior trainers looked suitably chastised, with bowed heads.
“That means Nero just failed his assessment,” Kristi pounded the wall with her fist. “Goddamn it.”
Beck knew what a failed assessment meant for Nero and probably Lilith—euthanasia. A sad end for doomed lives.
“OK, let this be a wakeup call. Carry on with our good works,” Kristi said sarcastically.
Beck got it. She was frustrated by how futile it all was.
Kristi headed back to the door. He stepped in front of her.
“How’s it looking for these guys?”
“Not good.” She cast a look back over her charges. “I don’t think many of them will get a stay of execution.”
“How about Brando?”
She flashed him a quizzical look. “I don’t know at this point—why?”
He flushed under the weight of her stare. “I like him. He seems like he has potential.”
“How would you know?” she asked, genuinely interested.
“I’ve been checking in, seeing how they’ve been getting on. He’s different from the others. Proud. Regal, even.”
Kristi smiled. “Are you interested in adopting him?”
He flushed again and didn’t understand why. “Well, yes.”
“Are we turning you into an animal lover?” she asked.
He recalled their conversation during his interview when Kristi had asked him how he felt about animals. He remarked that he had little interest, but respected the center’s work, and that his primary goal was in doing a good job on their behalf.
“I don’t know about that, but I am sure about Brando,” he said.
“Let’s go into my office.”
Beck flashed Brando a look before following Kristi.
She sat at her desk. He chose to stand.
“Marshall, have you owned many dogs?”
“A few when I was growing up,” he lied. There’d been no boy-and-his-dog moments in his life. There’d been no pets allowed at Jessica’s Palomino Ranch foster home.
“Brando isn’t just an ordinary dog. He’s a fighting dog. He’ll be a challenge for an experienced owner, let alone a novice. That’s even if he’s allowed to be adopted.”
“Do you think he’ll make the cut for adoption?”
“Hard to say, but his chances are probably less than fifty percent.”
He hated the idea of Brando being euthanized. The animal had so much power and presence that he deserved a shot at life on his terms. He wouldn’t allow him to be put down. He’d get Brando one way or another.
“This dog means a lot to you—why?”
“I see something in him and I want to nurture that.”
Kristi smiled again. “Look, if you’re really serious, I’ll have you work with Tom. He’ll show you how to handle a dog like Brando.”
“Thank you.”
“I can’t make you any promises. If Brando fails his assessment, then there’ll be nothing I can do. My hands will be tied.”
I can assure you they will be if Brando dies, he thought.
CHAPTER NINE