At the sound of the loud and very aggravated bark, Charlie and the wolf looked up simultaneously. And it was at this moment that their reactions vastly differed. While the beast looked on at his companion's struggling in frustration, Charlie first felt surprise, then slow, dawning dread. The surprise was from the simple fact that the tawny wolf was even awake, let alone moving and barking- she had given that thing enough tranquilizer to knock out a horse. How on earth did she burn through so many cc's so quickly?
And then, of course, the dread came about from the memory of their last meeting, and the poor terrified Tanya, and the promise of retribution in those glittering gold eyes just as they fluttered shut.
This... was not going to end well.
And to make matters even worse, Jake was smiling good-naturedly and half-dragging the stubborn wolf toward the station manned by the two shelter employees. One- a blonde girl with a tiny waist stuck in between large breasts and rotund hips- was saying something to her co-workers while chewing bubblegum, each word enunciated by either a smack or a pop. Her partner was a skinny guy around Charlie's age who's eyes were either fixed on the woman's bouncing peaches or her incessant popping. Neither were really paying attention to their next client.
"Alright, you two," Jake said to get their attention. The two Pound employees looked up, startled and one a little more petulant than the other. "Here's your next piece. She's a bit of a wild one, though, so I'd be careful if I were you."
Charlie watched in growing horror as the two exchanged exasperated looks and went through the motions of getting to work. The blonde pulled on a pair of ridiculously over-size yellow rubber gloves so as to protect her $25 manicure and the boy went to go fetch their hose. Without even checking the temperature, he turned and pointed it at the wolf.
His partner jumped back as the cold water splashed over the wolf's head, ricocheting onto her sweater. "Geez, Faulkner, watch where you're aiming that thing!" she hissed.
"Sorry, Vicki," he mumbled, and went on to hose the wolf down while the blonde fumbled for the shampoo. And, like the moron Charlie had already deduced she was, the woman flicked off the top with her thumb and started dumping the contents on the poor creature's head, letting it drip over her nose and off her fur onto the pavement. Then, with a disgusted expression, she gingerly placed the tips of her gloved fingers into the fur and began to scratch.
Charlie grimaced and looked down at her wolf. "This... is not going to end well," she said, echoing her earlier thought.