Noah waves to me from the front desk. A phone is tucked between his ear and shoulder.
This visit isn’t planned, but I know exactly why I’m here. I need to see Pi.
All the kennels are full of barking, snarling dogs. Pi isn’t in 1. He’s the broken merchandise that’s kept hidden in the back until it’s time to throw it away.
I open the door to the office. I don’t even get a chance to worry that Pi might not be there. My dog runs right to me. His body wiggles with excitement.
“Hi, Pi.” When I kneel down in front of him, he jumps up and puts his paws on my shoulders. His tongue swipes my cheek, which is disgusting.
“Why are you so happy?” I ask him. “Don’t you know I’ve had a rotten day?” It’s like he does know. He nudges his nose under my chin over and over, trying to lift my head.
“Let’s go for a walk.” I grab his leash and harness. Pi jumps and runs in circles, making it hard for me to get him clipped in. I finally get it. He takes the other end of the leash in his mouth. I laugh.
“You’re going to walk yourself? I don’t think so.” I wrestle my end free. We step out of the office and nearly knock into Noah.
“Sorry.”
“No worries.” He kneels in front of Pi and rubs his head. “I’m glad you came to say good-bye. Claire’s been freaking out all day whether she should call you guys or just let it be.”
“What do you mean?” I step back and pull the leash to my chest. “Is someone taking him? Has he found a home?”
Noah’s face changes. I know Pi isn’t being adopted—or given free to a good home. His time must be up.
“He’s being picked up in the morning by animal control.”
“No,” I whisper. My throat tightens.
“Sorry.” Noah reaches to touch my arm, but I pull away. “He’s a good dog. You tried.” He walks back toward the front desk.
Pi tugs on the leash. It’s clear he really doesn’t understand English. We were talking about his death sentence, and his tail is still wagging.
In the distance, I hear Claire talking to Noah. This is my chance. I should run away with Pi. I walked here. I can walk home. I can save him. But even taking 1 step feels like too many. I turn and go back into the office. Pi isn’t happy to be shut inside. He scratches at the door.
“Stop it,” I snap at him. “There’s nothing for you out there. Nothing for either of us.”
But Pi keeps pacing and digging to get out.
“Please. Stop.”
He whines.
“Stop!” And he does for a second. I notice the black spot on his back. When I met him, I thought it looked like a lightning bolt. I thought it was a sign. But it really looks more like a Z.
My phone vibrates, but I ignore it, slamming it down on the desk. Pi stares at me with his head tilted. It’s not cute and curious; it’s the cancer.
I’m suddenly very tired. I can’t even find the energy to cry or to care about bacteria and germs. I kneel down and crawl under the desk. My green-and-yellow sweatshirt is balled in the corner. I curl my knees to my chest and lay my head down on top. Pi wiggles his way in. He rests his chin on my shoulder. He’s quiet and still, maybe for the 1st time ever. But somehow I know he’s doing it for me. He wants me to feel better and not be sad. He should be selfish and trying to escape, not cuddling up to me.
I wrap an arm around him. We both close our eyes. The digits of pi swim through my brain. At 1st, they’re bright. Then they dim. My world is quiet except for the deep breathing of a dog.
A tap on the shoulder wakes me. I jump and hit my head on the bottom of the desk. Pi’s rapid-fire tail bangs against my feet.
“Did you have a good nap?” Nana asks.
“No.”
She offers me her hand and helps me out from under the desk. My knees and elbows and back ache. I glance at the clock on the wall. It’s only 5:10. I slept less than 30 minutes.
Claire stands behind Nana. She forces a smile. I tap my toe 3 times and use globs of hand sanitizer.
“This must be Pi,” Nana says. He sniffs and licks her sneakers. They probably smell like Cracker Barrel. She doesn’t reach out to touch him. Nana doesn’t like animals. She’s 66 and has never had a pet in her life.
“Yeah, this is Pi. Can we keep him, please?” I ask, knowing I sound like a whiny little kid.
“Lucy,” Nana says, which means no.
“They’re going to kill him.”
Claire sighs and closes her eyes. I wait for her to correct me. She doesn’t. She’s probably thinking, I’ll never let kids volunteer here again. Too much trouble.
“Let’s go home, Lucy. It’s been a long day.” Nana gently takes my elbow. I pull my arm away like she’s hurting me.
“I can’t leave him!” I shout.
“Do you want me to take the dog outside?” Claire asks Nana.
“His name is Pi!” I snap.
“I know, Lucy.” Claire keeps her voice calm and soft. “I love him, too. I know you don’t believe that. But I do.”
I want to be mad at Claire. I want to hate her. I can’t.
“He’s all I have.” The words come out with the tears, and I’m ashamed right away.
“Am I chopped liver?” Nana tries to joke.
That makes me cry harder. Nana and Uncle Paul and math were once enough. I want to go back 79 days, before I cared about Pi and Levi. And definitely before Windy.
Nana turns to face Claire. “Pi is going to animal control tomorrow?”
“Yes, I’m sorry,” Claire says.
“Can we keep him overnight?” Nana asks. “And I’ll bring him to animal control 1st thing in the morning. I’d like to give Lucy time to say good-bye.”
“If you think that’s a good idea,” Claire says.
“Honestly, I don’t know. It’s probably not. Maybe I should just rip off the Band-Aid now.”
“No,” I say. “Let’s take him home. It is a good idea.” It gives me 1 more night to find him a real home. And maybe Nana will change her mind. She might fall in love and want to keep him. We’d have to move apartments to some place that allows pets. It’s all unlikely, but not impossible.
“It’s only 1 night,” Nana says, as if reading my mind.
“I know.” Sometimes 1 is the perfect number.