Wishing for Wonderful (Serendipity #3)(13)
While she gazed at the screen, the beach transformed itself into a river with a man holding up the giant bass he’d caught. That scene then dissolved into one of a middle age couple sitting at an outdoor table surrounded by tropical flowers. Scrawled across the screen was “Discover the Florida in you!” Suddenly she had an overwhelming urge to go there.
Lindsay remembered Sara’s words. It’s like I’ve learned to breathe again.
I can do this, she thought. I’ve got enough savings to last a month, maybe two. By then I could find a job and… It was only a two-day drive, and when she got there she could stay with Sara for a few days. Just long enough to find her own place. A furnished room maybe, or an efficiency apartment. Living in Florida couldn’t possibly be as expensive as living in Manhattan. Without another moment of hesitation, she double-clicked on “Get more information”.
There was a slight pause, then a page appeared that read “Welcome to Small Paws, the place where love starts.” The page was bordered with images of small cute dogs: a cuddly-looking Shih Tzu, a long-haired Maltese and a Pomeranian with a poof of hair and a tiny nose.
“Awww, how cute,” Lindsay said, and without knowing what pushed her hand to do so she clicked on one of the pictures.
The face of the Shih Tzu instantly filled the screen. In the lower right hand corner was a block of copy. “I’m a nine-year-old boy who needs a home” it read. “I do best with older adults who have lots of love and can spend all day with me.” It went on to say that he was completely housebroken but not good with small children.
“All day?” Lindsay repeated. “I can’t stay home all day, I’ve got to get a job.”
She clicked on the Pomeranian and the picture grew larger, but before she could read the copy the photo was replaced by one of a shaggy-looking puppy standing on a small square of gritty brown dirt. Although she’d never known dogs to have an expression, this one looked forlorn. Beneath the photo was a single line of copy. It read “I’m waiting for you.” This picture had no button to click for more information. It said nothing more about the dog. There was no logline about the breed or what kind of home was right, no designation as to whether it was male or female.
“What the…” Lindsay double-clicked on the picture. It disappeared, and the Pomeranian came into view. “I’m a sweet little girl who is three years old” it read. The copy told the dog’s story and provided a link where the viewer could fill out an adoption application.
Lindsay hit the back arrow. The picture of the Shih Tzu reappeared. “Where’s that other dog?” she grumbled and moved her cursor to the forward arrow. The Small Paws home screen appeared again.
“What the heck is going on here?”
One by one she went through every picture on the website, but the sad-eyed dog was nowhere to be found and the buzzing in her ears seemed to get louder. It wasn’t just a buzz; it was far away voices, voices too small to be understood or distinguished. Lindsay could swear she heard a dog barking, but since the apartment building had a strict no pet policy that was impossible.
For the past fifteen years Lindsay had not once thought of having a dog. When Honey, a golden retriever who for ten years tagged along behind her died, she gave up all such thoughts. For countless months after Honey was gone, Lindsay mourned the loss. She held onto Honey’s favorite chew toy and kept it in her bottom dresser drawer. Night after night she’d take it out and hold it to her face. It still had the smell of Honey, which inevitably caused the tears to come. Several times Bethany suggested they visit the rescue center and look at the puppies.
“Just because you lost Honey doesn’t mean you can’t love another dog,” her mother explained.
Lindsay flatly refused. “No dog could ever replace Honey.”
“You wouldn’t be replacing Honey,” Bethany explained, “you’d just be giving love to a lost dog who has no one else to care for them.” She said doing such a thing might ease the pain of losing Honey, but Lindsay refused to listen.
Lindsay remembered her mother’s words as she scanned the website looking for the forlorn-looking dog. If she closed her eyes, she could still see the image and the words: “I’m waiting for you.” This was the lost dog her mother had spoken of, Lindsay was certain of it. After almost an hour on the Small Paws website, Lindsay knew she had to have that dog. Adopting that pitiful looking puppy would be the closest thing to having Honey back again.
Lindsay had a certainty she hadn’t felt in all the years her mom had been gone. She had to give up the apartment anyway, so she’d find a place that allowed dogs. All she had to do now was find the dog. She exited the site and tried again. After she’d entered SmallPaws.com into the search bar, the home screen reappeared. She again went through the entire site, dog by dog, sometimes double-clicking, sometimes a single click, but not once did she see the picture she was looking for.
When the telephone jangled, Lindsay picked up it up on the first ring. “Hello?”
“Hi, honey, how are you?” her father said.
“Not so great,” she answered. Her voice echoed the frustration she felt.
“What’s the problem?”
She sighed. “Everything.” Although she had far greater concerns, she zeroed in on the problem at hand. “My computer is acting up and…” Her voice wavered and she choked, holding back the tears.