I look away and hope that the heat on my cheeks isn’t translating into blushing.
“Hey,” Amara says, going over to another cage. “You’re all right, yeah? It’s good. I’ve never seen him this way around anyone before. Not that there have been any anyones if you know what I mean.”
As she brings two dogs out of a communal cage, I give her a look. “Let me guess, you’re going to warn me about how brooding and difficult and quiet he is. Believe me, I know. I heard that same shit from his cousins.”
“Oh, well that’s a given,” she says lightly. “But I wouldn’t say he’s necessarily brooding—he’s just a thinker. And he’s not difficult either, he’s just honest and he knows what he’ll do and what he won’t do. Personally, I’ve always found something very noble about Lachlan, like a breed of man that doesn’t really exist anymore. I’m glad, really, to see him with someone that makes him light up. It’s about time. You meet his parents yet?”
I shake my head.
“I’m sure you will,” she says as we head out of the shelter. She stops and locks the door while the dogs all start pulling against their leashes in excitement. “They’re lovely people. They’ll just love you and the fact that you’re here.”
I give her a steady look. “Just how much do you know about why I’m here?”
She tightens the ponytail at the back of her head. “I know that he’s not the type to meet a girl and fly her over here. That says a lot about him. And the fact that you came, that says a lot about you.”
She’s a real straight shooter, this one.
“What can I say? I, uh, really like him.”
She doesn’t need to know what an understatement that is.
Her eyes squint into a smile. “I know. Ah, before we forget.” She unhooks three muzzles hanging along the wall with an array of leashes. “If the dogs aren’t muzzled, we can get in some real shite.”
She passes me the muzzle and I stare down at Jo’s beautiful, open face, the hopeful eyes and the big smile. “Seems kind of wrong to be doing this,” I tell her, fixing the muzzle on her snout, which Jo accepts without a fuss. “This is only going to make people more afraid of them. I’m pretty sure Jo wouldn’t harm a fly.”
Amara sighs as she slips them onto the others. “Yeah, well. Tell that to the government. It’s either we muzzle them or we don’t get them at all. Most people in the U.K. have preconceived notions about these dogs and the muzzles only make it worse. If only they could see them, how they can really smile, they wouldn’t be so afraid. It’s that stigma, you know, that we’re trying to work through. People want to believe the rubbish they hear about these dogs, and it’s really hard to get them to do anything but argue with you.”
“It’s the same in the States,” I tell her. “The more I’ve been with Lachlan, the more I’ve been paying attention to the media bias. If a Labrador attacks a child—which is, like, way more common than you think—it rarely makes the news, and if it does they sweep it under the rug as a ‘dog attack.’ But if it’s a pit bull, all the news stations report it with screaming headlines.” I give Amara an embarrassed smile. “I confess, the media had me totally fooled until I met Lachlan.”
She nods, putting her hands on her hips. “He might not say too much, unless you really know him of course, but if you get him talking about the dogs, he won’t shut up. He’s done so much good here. He’s very, very persuasive.”
She jerks her head toward the door and I follow her out into the streets. The dogs look terrible with the muzzles on, but at least their tails are wagging, their noses full of fresh smells.