Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 77005 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 385(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77005 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 385(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
“Oh, honey, you know I can handle those Hollywood types in my bra and panties with one arm tied behind my back.”
I suck in a breath, picturing the very real possibility of this happening. “Please tell me you don’t mean that in the literal sense.”
“I haven’t even told you about the perks yet,” Jess says, interrupting the dark path my mind’s traveling down, which ends with a certain movie star criminal requesting a restraining order against Mona. “He’s prepared to make a sizable donation to the rescue.”
Between the merchandise I’ve been selling and my steady and loyal followers on Instagram and Facebook who have bailed the rescue out of a number of animal-related catastrophes (medical and otherwise), we’ve been getting by. Barely, but we’ve managed to stay in the black.
Are we always in need of funding? Sure. Of course. Rescues don’t happen on a schedule, and saving lives is costly. The vet bills alone are enough to keep me up at night. What I am not willing to do, however, is compromise my mental health for a few extra bucks.
“No amount of money would tempt me.”
“Then think of it as part of your personal growth,” the master negotiator also known as my best friend quips back. “Like therapy––but you get paid for it.”
A small whine comes from across the counter. My attention shifts to Mona who takes a slow sip of her coffee, her groomed eyebrows steadily climbing up her forehead. “I guess this is as good a time as any…” she mutters.
“A good time for what?” I ask hesitantly. Very hesitantly.
“To tell you that I’m a little behind on the property taxes.”
If I don’t have a heart attack today, nothing will ever kill me. “How behind are you?” I force myself to ask even though I really don’t want to know the answer.
“Two years.”
“Two years! How much?”
“I got a little confused with the past due dates,” I hear her say under the rushing of blood in my ears. “Andy said we can negotiate…”
Andy, her attorney. He’s supposed to be managing her finances. Which begs the question… what else has he screwed up?
The animals are all I can think about. What would happen to my animals who have already experienced the worst this world has to offer?
“How much, Mona?” For a moment she looks so guilty that I feel bad pressing her.
“Give or take a few dollars… forty-seven thousand.”
I glance at Jessica. Wisely, she’s not gloating. She maintains an appropriately neutral expression as she waits patiently for me to do the math, to come to my own conclusion. I clear my throat, swallow the bile rising up. “On second thought…”
“I’ll get the contract ready.”
Chapter 2
“Who did this?”
The top of the slow feeder sits in the corner of the small paddock, broken in two pieces. Trampled, it seems, by tiny hooves.
It’s a contraption that forces the animals to pull the hay through slats which stops them from consuming their daily amount all at once. No binge eating allowed at Mother Goose Rescue. Many of my little and big friends are on a medical diet and need to be fed small meals to rehab from starvation or other health-related issues.
My sidekick, Billy, sidles up to me for moral support and I automatically rub his floppy ear in return.
Running an animal rescue wasn’t what I planned on doing with my life. And yet not a day goes by that I’m not grateful for it. I don’t know where I’d be without these animals to care for. In a way, they saved me.
After the assault, I was lost, suffering from PTSD or whatever you want to call it. Even though I did my best to deny it––mostly to myself––the trauma took a toll on every aspect of my life. None more directly than on my work.
I was a paramedic once. And a good one at that. It wasn’t merely a job I loved with all my heart––it was a calling. There was never a dull moment. It was full of adventure. And the best part was that I got to help people when they were most in need. In every way possible, it was a career tailor-made for me.
Nothing beat the feeling of coming home at the end of the day knowing I helped deliver a baby on the side of the 405 freeway. Or that we stopped a distraught teen from jumping off an overpass. Or that my team and I saved the career of a high school running back who caught a stray bullet in the leg. He eventually went on to be drafted first overall into the NFL. I made a tangible, immediate difference in people’s lives and loved every minute of it.
For years I did my job without any regard for my personal safety. It never even crossed my mind. After the incident, however, it was all I could do to not think about it. Which really messed with my head. The same confidence that had sent me running into the most crime-ridden parts of L.A. without hesitation had deserted me overnight and I had no idea how to reclaim it. My mojo literally went missing in action.