“Tell you what, Dad. If you can get some time off, why don’t you come up here? I’ll have Lou come too, and we can all talk, see if this is something you’d be interested in doing. Because this is your place, and you’d need to be totally on board with it. And if this is going to work, I’d insist on paying rent. It might not be a lot at first, but I’d pay you something.”

“Hell, Chloe, you said it yourself—I’m never up there; the place just sits empty fifty-one weeks of the year. It would be nice to have some activity around there again. I hate to think of all that land going to waste,” he mused. In my mind’s eye he was sitting at his desk in his office, rubbing his jaw and looking off into space.

“So you’ll think about it?” I asked, and I could see him nodding.

“Call your friend Lou. If he can come up some weekend, I can make that happen too. And then we’ll just see,” he said.

I kicked my legs into the air. Yes!

And I went back to my stir-fry and to my glass of perfectly chilled rosé, and enjoyed them with a side of wonderful options.

Those options turned into reality a week later, when my father and Lou shook hands and agreed that this would be the place that Our Gang North would be putting down roots. I’d thought it would take several meetings and several rounds of convincing, but when my dad saw the photos and videos Lou brought, not only of the dogs when they came in, but when they were adopted into loving forever-homes, there wasn’t a dry eye in the house.

And that was it. Lou offered me the position of director of operations, I accepted, and I was suddenly in business. I had a salary, I had a title, I’d even have business cards! And the money that was allocated for leasing land would be paid to my father as a monthly stipend for using his property. I had brought some income in for my dad; I wasn’t a freeloader. And I had business cards!

Not exactly how I was going to sell it to my mother, but that was a conversation that could be put off for a few days. Since I’d been in Monterey, my communication with my mother had been limited to a few very short, curt phone calls, and one more round of exhausting texts.

Text #1:

Dear Chloe,

Text #2:

I’ve taken the liberty of sending BACK ALL OF YOUR WEDDING GIFTS, MOST OF THEM WERE OFF THE REGISTRY AT

SakssoIwasabletogetthat

takencareofquite

efficiently!!!!

Text #3:

Your father tells me that you’re staying in Monterey indefinitely, although I’m not sure whyyouDIDN’T TELL ME YOURSELF

Text #4:

Don’t forget that in the midst of all this soul searching you’re currently doing that you made a commitment to speak at the Miss Golden STATUATORY conference on the 30th. I’d hate to have to tell them you’re canceling because you haven’t been able to FINDYOURSELF or whatever it is you’re DOING up THERE*%

Chuckle. Eye roll.

What I was doing was moving along at a pretty fast clip. Lou’s contractors started leveling the ground in the pasture beyond the garage, which would be the main area where the dogs would be concentrated. As I’d hoped, we were able to repurpose the old milk barn into housing for the dogs. Rows of indoor/outdoor pens would be grouped together, with a row for cases that needed more isolation. Dogs just coming out of fighting rings could be unstable at best, and keeping them away from other dogs was vital to their rehabilitation, introducing them to the rest slowly, over time.

An exercise area was quickly constructed with an obstacle course and a kiddie pool for playtime, and the contractors fenced in an extensive pasture for the dogs to run free.

An old shed was insulated and converted into an adoption area, with plenty of room for potential adoptive families to meet their new pup. Another shed was perfectly situated for storage of all the Puppy Chow, chew toys, and doggie beds we’d need, mostly donated, sometimes from stores and sometimes from peoples’ homes. When you looked around a house, there were so many unused things that could be useful to someone else. That twenty-year-old bedspread that’s taking up valuable real estate in your linen closet would feel like heaven to paws that have never known anything but concrete. That bucket of balls in the garage from when you tried to take up tennis is exactly the kind of thing dog shelters needed, and would be put to immediate use.

Dr. Campbell senior was an enormous help. He was able to get us approval from the county faster than we could have on our own, to make sure we’d be open for business as soon as we could get things ready. And with his good standing in the community, anyone who had something negative to say about pit bulls being sheltered in their town was immediately converted after they heard him eloquently speak about these misunderstood animals.

As things began to take shape, I found that I was thinking less and less about the life I left behind in San Diego, and more and more about the life I was creating here in Monterey.

One afternoon I was whitewashing the old milking stalls when I saw a truck with Campbell Veterinary Hospital emblazoned on the side pull up in front of the house. Dr. Campbell had said he might stop by after work to drop off some donations. Wiping my painty hands on my jeans, I headed out into the driveway and saw that it was the son, not the father. I quickly ran my hands through my hair, realizing too late that I’d just striped myself like Pepé Le Pew. Ah, well.

Lucas climbed out of the truck, clad in jeans and a tucked in black button down. (Mercy.)

“Hello! I thought your dad was stopping by,” I said as he walked toward me.