The three of us bundled up in the car and headed to the shelter. My stomach tied into knots.
The shelter staff led us to a fenced yard area and said they'll retrieve the basset. Soon, the door opened and a large-boned, broad-chested, 75-pound basset ran out at full steam.
He chased after poor little Reagan in an instant. She ran for her life, shrieked to high heaven, and tucked her tail between her legs. I chased after them. I finally scooped Reagan up in my arms. She was still shivering and shrieking.
I never knew I could run that fast. If you think bassets can't run fast, that tells me one thing. You've never seen a basset run. Don't let those short legs fool you.
"This isn't working," I huffed.
Tom agreed.
We rode back home in silence. I felt sorry for Reagan and for Tom. He hoped all would work out.
Is this the end of the story? Oh no! I've only just begun.
(Story to be continued.)
