Dogs & Fate
"Logan! Thanks for coming to help today. We're going to be busy on this beautiful Saturday morning." Holly, the director and volunteer coordinator from the animal rescue, welcomed me in her overly excited way.
"Glad to help, as always. I already dropped Cookie off at the corral. She's such a good girl, I'm hoping she gets a great application for a permanent home today." I vaguely pointed towards the giant puppy pen where my foster had been deposited.
"Kenneth can get you set up at the information table. There's coffee and donuts over there too." Holly scurried off while I found Kenneth and the donuts.
"Hey, Logan. You already know the drill. Applications, flyers for future adoption events, mailing list." Kenneth pointed to all the piles of stuff in front of both chairs.
"I sure do, this isn't my first rodeo. How's Zulu? You know he's always been one of my favorites."
"Zu is great. He's at doggy daycare this morning. He loves going there and he comes home worn out." Zulu was Kenneth's border collie mix that I'd fostered when he first came into the rescue.
I sat at the table and arranged the pens and things at my station. Eventually I'd rotate out to the puppy pen and then I was going to be on door duty. I had volunteered for the rescue for close to ten years at this point. I'd been in the rescue community for almost fifteen years.
Fifteen years ago was when I went to adopt a dog after a messy breakup. I tried to date for a few years after that, but when I continued to fail, over and over, that's when I committed myself to dogs and cats instead.
I didn't find the right dog for me on that initial visit, so I volunteered to walk dogs for a few weeks while getting to know them and then I'd pick one. I did pick one, eventually, but I never did stop volunteering at shelters and rescues.
That first dog was a senior toy mix, maybe part Chihuahua, maybe not. Her name had been Mama at the rescue but she became my Rosemarie. I had her for five years and she changed my life.
Instead of adopting again after she passed, I started fostering senior dogs. I loved it and it's still my favorite thing, but it gets really hard. Thinking about the path that led them to end up in a shelter for the last phase of their lives, gets painful to digest.
Someone loved them and then left them. Often we didn't have any back story. We just knew they were old and needed to be loved, maybe for the first time in their lives. I did that for two years before it broke me.
I still foster a senior here and there, but I also take in adults and puppies now. Mixing it up helps keep it from getting super sad. Cookie, my current foster, was a six month old pit mix. She was a handful and the sweetest animal I've met in a long time.
Most of the dogs are great, but Cookie was special. I always called her an angel puppy. She was one of those dogs with personality to spare and that wanted cuddles for days. She just had that "thing" that you can't exactly name, that intangible quality that only comes along once in a blue moon.
I'd keep her, but I just didn't have the long term life that a dog like her needed. I was currently living a cat lifestyle. As soon as Cookie got adopted, I needed to travel for work. Cats can deal with that whereas puppies cannot.
Outside of volunteering and fostering, my real life career was as a freelance photographer. I volunteered those services to the rescue as well, but I needed to travel to make money to support myself. The best paying jobs were on the road.
I had a contract in place with the state of Utah. I was going to be doing print work for their new tourism campaign. Luckily the foster puppy overlapped with their worst weather.
Once Cookie found a home, I could schedule my first of three trips. I was going out several times to visit different areas and during different times of the year to show the vast varieties of Utah's seasonal appeal.
Holly had told me that she had several promising applicants for Cookie, plus we were at an event where most everyone that came would be walk-ins.
It was a large local pet show with hundreds of vendors, so the patrons were coming here looking for pets and supplies and hoping to see innovative new products. We always did quite well at this show.
At nine o'clock, the doors opened and people filtered in. We had a premium spot just inside the door. Everyone saw us while coming in and again as they left. The booth began to get crowded. It was time to smile and schmooze.
My first hour at the table went by quickly. I handed out applications, talked with new volunteer hopefuls and reminded everyone to come see us next month for the big adoption event at the humane society.
My second hour was with the puppies. I stood in the pen and answered questions to the people all around the fenced corral area. I also introduced families with approved applications to the dogs.
By the time my second hour was up, Cookie was clearly over being in the puppy pen. I put her on leash and let her accompany me for my third hour, spent at the door. We were steering people into our area and introducing the rescue group to the passing patrons.
Cookie was perfect for this job. She sat by my feet and wagged her tail and beamed at every person that made eye contact with her. She charmed the hell out of everyone. She was incredibly cute, on top of being an amazing dog. The perfect good girl.
"Who's this?" A guy asked as he made love eyes at Cookie. He let her sniff and lick his fingers while he smiled down at her.
"This is Cookie. She's six months old and the best puppy in the world." I said it very honestly.
"She's adorable. Is she available?" The man now looked up at me and smiled. It was a dazzling smile, if ever I'd seen one.
"She is. I know a few people have put applications in for her, but nothing is decided yet. What kind of dog are you looking for?"
The guy got into a comfortable stance and started talking with me about his search for a companion. He explained that he led an active life and he wanted a dog to take everywhere. It really would be perfect for Cookie.
"I jog almost every day. I like to walk around in the city, going for brunch on the weekends. I like to sit outside so a dog could be with me. I want to take her in the car, to hiking trails and stuff like that."
"Cookie would love that. She's very well behaved and extremely social. She's good with cats and other dogs, but she loves people. She could keep up with you on your runs and hikes." I nodded as I looked between my girl and the handsome guy.
He was the kind of guy I would never date when I still dated. He was quite a bit hotter and exactly the opposite type than I'd been with. This guy was really gorgeous, now that I stopped and took him in.
"I'm Logan, by the way. I've been fostering Cookie for the last five weeks. She's really an incredible dog."
"I'm Heath. Do you have an application I could fill out?" He shook my hand.
I pointed him to where Holly and another female volunteer now manned the info table. He went over there and as he was filling out his paperwork, Holly made eye contact with me. I nodded and smiled to indicate I thought he was a good match for my baby girl.
When my third and final hour was up, I said goodbye to Holly and the new batch of volunteers that had shown up for the second shift at our booth.
With five applications in for Cookie, I took her home until a decision would be made. She didn't need to stay in that craziness any longer today either. I could tell she needed a snack, a nap and a fetch session, in that order. Home, we went.
On Monday evening I got a call from Holly's second in command, Saed. He called to set up a home visit for the top applicant for Cookie. I agreed to visit and view the house and yard and meet with the potential adopters for the final step before adoption approval.
I wrote down the address and phone number for Heath Zimmerman and his partner, Seth. I felt really excited for Cookie and a strange pang of disappointment for myself. He was in a relationship.
I reminded myself that it didn't matter, even if he wasn't taken. I didn't date anymore. I traveled, I took pictures and I fostered animals. No more men for me. I didn't need one.
Fifteen years ago, my relationship ended when my partner of two years left me for his ex wife. The ex wife I hadn't even known existed. Did I mention he also had an eight year old child that I'd been unaware of? Because he did.
After that one, I dated casually for about three years, but it was just a series of horrible, embarrassing and unfulfilling situations that finally made me just stop trying.
I'm Logan French. I'm thirty nine, less fit than I'd like to be and completely average. I'm five foot, eleven inches and I weigh two ten. I used to weigh around one eighty five, but that was probably ten years ago.
My hair was still a dark rich brown, without a single gray hair. My dad barely had gray hair at sixty two. My eyes are blue grey with flecks of dark silver in the right light.
I'm an excellent photographer. It's what allowed me to travel freely, volunteer tons of hours and still afford a beautiful home and drive a nice car. My work was very respected and I had a waiting list of clients.
I own a vintage Spanish style home in East Palo Alto with a glimpsing view of the water. I drive a Tesla X. I enjoy fine dining and expensive wine. I'm extremely gay and part of a wonderful group of friends. I just happen to prefer being single. At least that's what I've convinced myself.
Before the guy that left me for his ex wife, I dated really butch guys that were into flamboyant, nelly queens, like myself. I imagined myself as the perfect feminine foil to the big burly bears, especially when I was so young, in my early to mid-twenties.
It turns out, I'm not really into bears. The one I thought might be a great guy was actually a hateful, mean spirited dick. He liked me when we were alone, but he mocked my very gay mannerisms wherever I wasn't with him.
