Meribeth stood in her walk-in closet surrounded by dresses dripping with glitter and silk scarves piled on every shelf. She held up two nearly identical pink handbags and sighed loudly. Both had tags still attached — unworn, untouched, perfect. Outside her window, a delivery truck rumbled past toward the brick building across the street.
Her father dropped her off at the Oak Creek Animal Rescue Shelter with a crisp envelope of donation money pressed into her palm. 'Sign the guest book,' he said, already checking his phone. Meribeth stamped her signature with a flourish, but the heavy oak door swung open and a golden retriever mix bolted right between her legs.
She chased the muddy dog across the gravel courtyard, past kennels where cats arched their backs and rabbits thumped their tiny feet against wire floors. When she finally caught him, the dog licked salt-crusted chocolate cake right off her knuckles — someone's leftover treat had tumbled from her purse. He nudged her hand toward a small, shivering kitten hiding under a bench.
The dog nudged her hand toward a small shivering kitten hidden beneath a nearby bench. Its belly rose and fell like a bellows, tiny and fragile. Meribeth reached down gently and scooped the kitten into her arms. The muddy dog pressed its warm body against her leg as if to say, stay.
Meribeth sat on the cold concrete floor with the muddy dog curled against her legs and the kitten purring warm vibrations against her wrist. A volunteer handed her a worn wool blanket and said, 'You can adopt both — we just need someone who stays.' She looked down at her ruined shoes, her untouched chocolate cake, and the envelope of money sitting forgotten by the door.
She looked at her ruined shoes, her untouched chocolate cake, the envelope of money sitting forgotten by the door. And then she smiled with her whole face. The kitten purred louder. The dog licked her chin. Meribeth didn't want to let go of either of them.
The next morning, Meribeth stood in her closet in borrowed sneakers and an old sweater, her arm around the golden retriever and the kitten perched on her shoulder. She opened the front door to the sound of barking and meowing filling the bright kitchen. Her mother dropped her coffee mug with a clatter.
Her mother dropped her coffee mug with a clatter. It shattered on the kitchen tile. Coffee spread across the floor like a dark river. 'Meribeth!' her mother cried, but then she saw the dog's wagging tail and the kitten's wide green eyes. She sighed and sank onto a kitchen chair.
'I adopted them,' Meribeth said, setting the dog down and climbing onto her mother's lap. The kitten jumped down and began kneading the robe. 'I'm keeping them.' Her mother looked at the puddle, at the messy hair, at the three of them huddled together. Then she laughed — a real laugh, not the polite kind she used at parties.
That afternoon, Meribeth carried both animals to the shelter again — this time with a leash and a carrier. The volunteer from before met her at the door with a clipboard. 'We have a surprise for you,' she said, leading them down a hallway lined with sunlit windows.
Behind the door was a small apartment — real keys, a real lock, a tiny backyard with a patch of grass. 'Foster-to-adopt,' the volunteer explained. 'If it works out, you sign the papers.' Meribeth dropped to her knees and buried her face in the dog's fur. The kitten wound between her ankles.
That night, Meribeth lay in bed with the dog curled at the foot of the mattress and the kitten asleep in the crook of her arm. Her closet door stood open, and beyond it, the pink handbags sat quietly on the shelf. They didn't look so important anymore. She closed her eyes and dreamed of wet noses and purring bellies and a life that was finally hers.