Page 140 of 10 Rings I Hate About You
Gladys got a full examination. She held still, chin tipped just a fraction, like she’d decided the best strategy was not to interfere with the process.
Then he found Doug.
Doug was in the warrior two pose, arms extended, doing reasonably well for a man who had announced on arrival that he was here against his will and wasn’t ever doing this again.
Next to him, his wife ignored it all.
“There’s a—” Doug started.
“It’s animal yoga,” his wife, Sienna huffed.
“Deep breath in—” Cheryl said from the front, not breaking stride.
“It’slookingat me.”
“Animals are very intuitive,” Goldie said from two mats over. “He probably sensed your energy.”
“My energy,” Doug repeated in a flat voice.
Sienna didn't even bother stemming her laughter. “Helikesyou, Doug.”
“I don’t want to be liked by a rabbit.”
“Too late,” Sienna said cheerfully.
Butterball visited the earnest young woman in the front row who simply incorporated him into her pose without breaking form, and then he made his way to Glamma.
That’s when I noticed what Theo was trying to tell me.
Butterball was leaving a trail of turds behind him.
Note to self: No rabbits or small animals that shit everywhere for the next class.
I made a motion to one of the volunteers to clean up his mess. At least his diet was primarily hay, which meant the situation was manageable.
Theo moved to intercept him, carefully trying not to disrupt the flow of class or give the rabbit a reason to bolt. His technique was patient and unhurried. Butterball was faster than he looked.
Glamma saw the furry white rabbit coming her way. She tracked his approach from her warrior pose with the undisguised delight that she gave to most things. When Butterball arrived at her mat, sat down, and looked up at her, she smiled. “Well, hello, young man. It’s too bad my Coco isn’t here. I think she’d like you.”
Thank God Coco wasn’t here. The loveable French bulldog was a loose cannon on the best of days.
Butterball lay down, staking out his new territory.
I nodded toward Theo, letting him know I’d keep an eye on him, and when he was ready to roam again, we’d contain anything he left behind.
We were now in the final stages of the class. Once it ended, everyone had fifteen minutes to love on whichever animal chosethem before Theo led a shelter tour and talked about adoptable pets.
Twelve people were on their backs, eyes closed, and the room held that collective stillness that Delaney had created with her voice as she took over the last segment. I watched her from my spot near the water station, close enough to the door in case we had any runners.
She moved through it easily—completely in control of the room.
I could listen to her do this every week for forever. That thought had just settled when I became aware that the large dog to my left had shifted.
He wasn’t in distress. It was something worse.
Tucker’s whole body was wiggling with that electric joy some dogs had.
I moved toward him at the exact moment he decided that the energy in the room was lacking—that the twelve humans lying peacefully on the floor—was an invitation he couldn’t in good conscience refuse.
