april ludgate-dwyer (aprilglowers) wrote in thedoorway, @ 2013-06-28 14:42:00 |
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If accidentally bathing an evil gremlin didn’t say "you should adopt another disabled dog," Andy didn’t know what did. I mean, come on, God might as well have descended from the heavens and commanded that they find a pet that didn’t replicate when bathed and try to bite your ankles off. In all honesty, Andy had been kind of sad to see the little buggers go. Sure, he’d had to go to the hospital for like fifteen puncture wounds, but when didn’t he injure himself needlessly? Besides, he was pretty sure that they were April’s spirit animals. What kind of husband would he be if he didn’t let terrifying furry creatures bite holes him in him every once in a while?
Sadly, the infestation had been taken care of, but the seed had been planted. After getting lost on the subway for thirty-eight minutes, they’d ended up at the Manhattan Animal Care Center, AKA Puppy Heaven. As they waited at the administrative desk, he could hear their muffled barking. It was all Andy could do not to break down the “AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY” door and run in to set them all free, but he was pretty sure that was a bad idea. When the clerk finally returned to her desk to greet them, Andy’s pent-up energy came out in a rush of words.
"Do you have any crippled dogs?" No sooner had the words come out of his mouth than Andy winced dramatically. "Sorry, I mean disabled dogs. Preferably one with three legs, but if you have any dogs with broken ears or one eye -- or three eyes, that would be AWESOME -- we will consider those too. Even a dog that had turned blue because of an accident in a blueberry factory would be acceptable. Right, April?"
His wife gave a firm nod, maintaining enough eye contact that the clerk began to look away uncomfortably. "We like dogs that are wrong," April explained succinctly. In truth, she was as bummed as Andy that their little adorable pile of fluff and fangs had to be taken away, but SHIELD had a zero-tolerance policy toward gremlins that she was pretty sure bordered on an -ism. "We don’t care how," she added, leaning on one foot and twirling her hair around one finger. "Like... one ear... only eats popcorn... has a taste for human flesh..."-just to throw that out there- "...stuff like that."
It’d feel good to have another dog. She refused to think of it as a Champion Replacement, but maybe he could be an alternate version of Champion. There’d been twenty billion Tony Starks running around at one point; what was wrong with having a sequel to their beloved dog back home? "It’s cool if he’s lame," she told the clerk, who seemed to have stop fiddling with the computer and instead was conquering the Guinness Book of World Records for maximum eyebrow raising. "I mean, not lame; we want a cool dog. But the other lame’s fine."
"All adoptions here are $75," said the clerk, passing April some paperwork that she gave to Andy without reading. "Except the ones that have been here a while; they’re $35."
April turned to her husband, stricken. "They discount human life. How could they do that?"
Andy’s attention wandered to the cages that he could see in the window of the locked door, but he snapped out of his longing to go play with the puppies when April mentioned popcorn. "Except not that weird gourmet jalapeno cinnamon popcorn that Ben likes, because that’s just gross." Andy’s entire face twisted in revulsion for a second, but he relaxed the muscles in his face because a reliable source (see: Knope, Leslie) had told him that they would stick that way.
"Sweet!" He exclaimed when the discounted rate was announced, reaching into his pocket to retrieve a crumbled up wad of cash with gum stuck in the middle. "That’s like four less dollars than I made today. Actually, it’s eight less dollars than I made today, but I paid the homeless guy around the corner to tell me my future. He said that ‘happiness is waiting just around the corner.’ Do you have any dogs named happiness?"
After peeling the bills apart, he handed the mostly degummed money over to the lady and signed the paperwork without reading it. What could possibly go wrong? "Can we see the $35 dollar dogs now?" He asked excitedly, linking his fingers with April’s.
April was already standing on her toes to see the future Ludgate-Dwyer waiting for them, giving a "Nrrrrghhhhh" of impatience and tugging on Andy’s hand. The clerk was telling them something about neutering and shots which April promptly ignored because boring, and shot forward as soon as the clerk opened the door behind her to where most of the dogs were kept.
For as lackadaisical as April could be, she wasn’t unaffected by the sight of all the unwanted animals kept in cages. Animals were great; they weren’t people. Unfortunately, she now wanted all of them.
"This is one of the primo ones,” she said, seeing the different-colored tags on the outside of the cages indicating how long the dogs had been there. "Ugh this one’s got all his extremities... " She liked the look of a large Great Dane mix who looked at her with big sad eyes that reminded her of Ben after he and Leslie had broken up, but then she was reminded of Ben and that was dumb. Walking further into the pen, she saw a dog with an orange tag indicating that he was $35. “Andy. Look look look."
The dog wasn’t quite brown, but also wasn’t orange. Perhaps discerning the color of its coat would have been easier had it had more of it; large patches of skin were exposed from where the identifying paper explained he had had a rare fungal infection upon arrival. It was missing an eye on its right side and appeared to have drooling problems, or at least one hoped it was a problem and not a solution. It stared back at April as best as it was able, panting slightly as its tail beat a regular rhythm against the side of the kennel.
April was enchanted. "His name is Conquistador. Andy. Conquistador."
Where April ran, Andy was close in tow. Much to the disapproval of the clerk, his sneakers squeaked on the floor as he hurried after her, staring at the array of dogs like a little kid in a candy store. He was seriously considering trying to reach through the bars of a cage to hug a slightly belligerent Rottweiler when April directed his attention to a markedly less fortunate dog.
It was love at first sight. Not only was the creature in question missing an eye, but it drooled like Andy did when he slept at night and it was even worse at giving itself a haircut than Andy was. That homeless fortune teller was right. Happiness was just around a corner, and it was a dog named...
"Conquistador," He repeated aloud, testing the syllables on his tongue. "That’s like, Spanish for champion, right? He’s totally Champion’s long-lost Spanish brother." Entranced, Andy ignored the “DO NOT TOUCH” signs in favor of leaning in to rub the dog’s ears. "Hey boy. How would you like April and I to take you home?" Conquistador proceeded to cement his status as a Ludgate-Dwyer by attempting to lick him and drooling all over his hand. Delighted, Andy turned to April with a grin. "I think that’s a yes. Can we keep him?"
"I guess." Ambivalence on April was the equivalent of wholehearted endorsement on other people. She had to admit this dog looked perfect both on and off paper. Speaking of paper... April leaned in to read the helpful piece discussing the dog’s history and known facts. "Says here he’s a Chinese Crested and bulldog mix... whatever that means... not house-trained... afraid of ceiling fans... allergic to wheat." At this rate she was going to have hearts in her eyes. "Andy... I think... that this is our dog."
Our dog. She liked the sound of that. While April had adopted to New York as well as any introduced species with no natural predators, she missed some of the nuances of her previous life. While Conquistador could never be a Champion, at least he needed just as much love. “Oh my God... Andy... we can be his seeing-eye human!”
"Whoa, so he’s Chinese and Spanish? I’m going to have to go to the library and learn how to say more than "chimichanga" and "chow mein," Andy thought aloud. His improbable plans to master two new languages when he had an imperfect grasp of this one were temporarily shelved, however, when April recited the dog’s qualifications. "That’s like, the Trifecta of dog characteristics." His voice was hushed with awe. "We’ve hit the jackpot!"
Overcome with the same sense of family that swept over his wife, Andy wrapped an affectionate arm around April’s waist. He missed Leslie and Ron and his awesome Women’s Studies teacher, but the most important thing in his life was standing right beside him. "You mean we can help him not run into traffic, instead of the other way around?"
"This is going to be so much better than getting another job," April said, looking at the dog with eyes filled with sneaky opportunity. She was pretty sure that people gave money to sick children all the time. Dogs were way cuter than children. Not to mention that this seemed like a way-more fun full-time job than working at a smoothie place or being a temp, both failed ventures she had attempted since her arrival in New York.
She snuggled close to Andy, momentarily rallied after having lost her shot at having a gremlin for a pet. Truth be told, gremlins sort of reminded her of Ben in the morning, and while that wasn't a complete strike against them, April was much happier with having a pet that was dumber than she was. Or pets. She scratched Andy's head and planted a kiss on his lips that had the pound employee clearing her throat. "Let's take him home. And tell people we don't like that he's a maneater."