by Lyn Cote
Amy gawked at him. “Dr. McClure, what are you doing here?”
Before Jake could reply, Bummer stopped moaning and woofed at Amy, struggling to get down. Jake released the hound. Bummer frisked around her feet, woofing softly with joy—as if he sensed he needed to be quiet in this place. Amy stooped to pet him.
Jake stooped beside her, bracing his elbows on his knees. The constant baying had shaved his patience down to a fine, taut line. Jake buried his face in his hands. The emergency call to a large dairy farm last night and Bummer’s antics tonight meant he’d hardly had any sleep for two nights now. I can’t believe I’m here. How can I expect this woman to just know what to do? But he hoped his hunch would pay off.
“Why are you here?” Amy asked in a low voice. She glanced behind her as if she expected someone to come and shoo him outside.
“I know I shouldn’t have come. And brought a dog here to boot.”
“That’s all right. We have two dogs who live here as pets for the patients. Bummer is allowed.”
At her kind words, he raised his head and gazed at her. She’d pulled her beautiful hair back into a ponytail, giving her a severe look that didn’t suit her.
“I’m glad to hear that this nursing home recognizes the healing power of interaction with animals.”
Amy nodded and looked at him expectantly as if repeating, Why are you here?
He hoped he didn’t sound ridiculous. “Since I drove away from your house,” he said in careful, measured tones at odds with his inner uproar, “Bummer has bayed, moaned and howled. One of my neighbors a quarter mile away even complained.”
Amy gasped. “I’m so sorry. How can I help?”
Riddled by fatigue, he leaned his face into his hands again. His reserve around young women began reasserting itself. He didn’t know what more to say. Silence reigned.
Amy cleared her throat. “Why don’t you come to the employee lounge for a cup of decaf coffee?” She glanced at her wristwatch. “I can take a brief break now.”
Jake straightened up. “You don’t have to—”
“My pleasure. Please.” She led him down the hall and into a brightly lit room. Her face revealed a kind of bewildered concern. She gestured him to the saggy plaid sofa while she went to the snack area.
Again he regretted having to bother this woman. Yet, too tired to argue or just leave, Jake obeyed and sank onto the sofa. Bummer watched Amy pour two mugs of coffee and bring one to Jake. When she sat down in a chair across from Jake, Bummer flopped on the floor with a satisfied sigh. At this, Amy looked…flummoxed, a word he hadn’t ever used that he could recall.
“I’m really sorry about this,” Amy said, cupping her white and green Hope Nursing mug between her hands. “But are you sure this is about me and the girls? I noticed that Bummer was very protective of the kittens.”
Even in the glare of the fluorescent lighting, the young woman across from him looked somehow ethereal. Wearing a faded blue scrubs uniform, she didn’t fit this run-down setting. Why did employee lounges always have to look like thrift stores?
Bringing his mind back to the problem, Jake stirred his coffee and then gestured toward the dog on the floor beside her. “I’ve had Bummer since he was a pup when I had just finished vet school.” Jake couldn’t stop the rush of words—something that was out of character for him. “He’s been my shadow for almost ten years. He’s never done anything like this before.”
After glancing down at Bummer, Amy asked, “Do you mean his coming home with my girls? I scolded them about helping him into the van. I’ve warned them if they do anything like that again, they’ll lose TV privileges for a weekend.”
He stirred his coffee, watching the swirls of cream blend in, nearly hypnotized. “I tried ignoring his baying.” He glanced at his watch. “He kept it up for nearly two hours till he saw you here.” He shrugged, not even knowing clearly what he wanted to ask her.
Amy sipped from her cup, her pale pink lips catching his attention. “You think he prefers to be with my girls and the kittens? But how can that be? Except for tonight my girls never had contact with him before.”
“Dogs have personalities just like people.” He blew across the top of his steaming cup of coffee. Talking about animals—now he could do that. “Some relate to their early experiences with people and other animals. Some just follow the instincts of their breed. Basset hounds can be very determined and independent.”
“So if he’s taken a notion to prefer my girls or protect the kittens, he’ll just be stubborn about it?” Her sincere brown eyes gazed into his.
“Exactly.” He tried not to be rude and just stare at her. “It’s been said that basset hounds can be taught anything, as long as they want to learn that particular anything.” A grin slid sideways onto his face—for her, not the situation.
The young single mom gazed around the lounge. “I can’t stay much longer. I don’t want to lose this job. After I was downsized from receptionist at the hospital emergency room last fall, it took me a while to find another position.”
“I’m sorry. Here you are at work and I’m bothering you with my problems.” He rose.
She put out a hand. “Wait. You look really tired.” She touched his sleeve for only a moment. Her fleeting touch sent sparks zipping up his arm.
“Understatement,” he admitted simply. Why deny it?
“We really haven’t solved your problem.”
He took a step back. Of course they hadn’t. I shouldn’t have bothered her. “I’ll just have to work through it.”
His cell phone sounded loud in the quiet place. He excused himself to take the call, returning a few moments later. “I have to go. Another emergency at a different dairy farm.” Jake bent to pick up Bummer.
The basset hound dashed away and ducked behind the sofa. Jake had never seen him move so fast. Heat enveloped Jake’s face. I don’t have time for this.
“On the way to your emergency,” Amy said, as if feeling for each word, “maybe you should stop and leave Bummer with the girls at my next-door neighbor’s. Ginnie loves animals.”
“I shouldn’t give in to him like this—”
“You look dead on your feet, and now you have another call. You can’t take him with you, baying like that. I’ll call her.” She pulled out her cell phone and hit speed dial.
“No, I shouldn’t—”
She held up a hand and said into the phone, “Ginnie, there’s sort of an emergency tonight.”
Jake listened as she explained the situation to the neighbor. Embarrassment and the urgency of the emergency call ASAP needled him.
She shut the phone. “Ginnie says to bring Bummer over. She said she knows you.”
“Ginnie?” He tried to bring up a face and then shrugged. “I usually remember the animals more than their owners,” he admitted. “Oh, wait—is that Ginnie Flatlander?”
“Yes, the one famous for her baked mac and cheese.” Amy chuckled. “The girls call her Aunt Ginnie and she owns the white and brown trailer next to mine. She’s waiting for you.”
Another unbidden grin slid onto his face. “Thanks.”
She smiled in return and pushed him toward the door. “Go.”
He wanted to stay. But couldn’t.
Seven o’clock in the morning finally came. Amy punched out and drove home, her battery reluctant but still alive. Through the bright sun glinting on the fresh snow she walked to Aunt Ginnie’s. She said goodbye to the girls, who were on their way to catch the school bus to first grade, and went inside to get the kittens. Bummer greeted her from the floor by the heat register. The two kittens were crawling over him, playing, pulling at his long ears. “Dr. McClure hasn’t come yet?”
“No. But Bummer has been good, and he’s been taking care of those kittens.” Ginnie beamed at the dog and kittens. “It’s unusual to see a male so interested in little ones. But I have heard of stranger things.”
“Do you think Dr. McClure’s emergency call lasted into the morning?” Amy swal
lowed a yawn.
“Maybe. Or he overslept?”
Dr. McClure hadn’t seemed irresponsible—much the opposite. She hoped nothing bad had happened to him or his patients. Though Amy ached with fatigue, she had no choice. She turned to Aunt Ginnie. “Thanks. I’ll take the menagerie home with me. If Dr. McClure comes, tell him I’ve got Bummer, okay?”
“Well,” Aunt Ginnie teased in a knowing tone, “this is a new one on me. Stealing a man’s dog to get his attention—”
“Aunt Ginnie,” Amy scolded, blushing and wondering why. “Don’t go there.” She suffered the woman’s laughter as she walked outside, carrying the box of kittens. Bummer trotted at her side.
At home, Amy waited while Bummer did his business beside a tree. Then inside, she warmed food for the kittens and gave Bummer a cold hot dog for lack of anything else. She staggered to her bedroom, stepped out of her shoes and collapsed onto the bed. With the kittens trailing him, Bummer waddled in after her and lay down on the rug beside her bed. Amy fell asleep, gazing into the hound’s deep brown mournful eyes. And thinking of another pair of kind eyes.
Amy swam up from sleep to the sound of insistent knocking. She padded in her stocking feet to the front door. Dr. McClure stood outside. “Ginnie said I just missed you.”
Amy swallowed a yawn. “Come in. Would you like some coffee?”
“No, thanks. I’ve been out all night and I’m dirty from working in a cattle barn. I’ll just take Bummer. I’ve got to get to my clinic.”
Closing the door, Amy turned and went to get Bummer. She’d left him lying on the rug. She went from room to room. No dog. On a hunch, she went back to her room and got down on her knees. Bummer had crawled under her bed and all the way back to the far corner. The kittens hovered beside him.
Exhausted, she wanted to lie down and cry. “Bummer, you fit your name. Shame on you.” On her stomach, she crawled under the bed.
Bummer growled at her.
She crawled back out and went to the door. She opened it. “You’ll have to get him. He’s under my bed.” She sank onto a kitchen chair, too tired to stand.
The vet stalked down the hall. Soon the sound of Bummer growling and Dr. McClure grunting came to her. The vet finally appeared with the large struggling dog in his arms. “Thank you.”
The vet hustled out, letting the door slam behind him. Amy didn’t take it personally. If she hadn’t been so tired, she would have felt sorry for him. At least the dog wouldn’t be here when the girls got off the school bus at three. She lay down on the couch and fell sound asleep, again thinking of a pair of blue eyes.
Aching for sleep, Jake drove to his clinic to do his small-animal office hours. Bummer bayed on and on as if he were being tortured. If Jake’s morning hadn’t already been packed with appointments, he would have gone home and slept. He parked behind his clinic and then opened the door, urging Bummer to get down.
Bummer refused.
Jake picked him up and carried him inside the rear staff entrance. He stomped with each step, trying to release some of his irritation and wake himself up. Bummer yodeled his displeasure. This made all the animals in the kennel in the rear of the clinic bark, yip and woof in sympathy. They didn’t want to be there either!
Jake carried Bummer to his office, hung up his coat and shut the door on the still-baying hound. He hurried forward to the reception counter. His office manager, a very pregnant Kelsey Witt, looked up at him quizzically.
“Don’t ask,” he said under his breath. His first two appointments were waiting for him. He asked the woman with the puppy in need of a booster shot to come back with him. In the background behind their voices, Bummer’s trumpeting bass could be heard. The sound brought thoughts of Amy. He hoped she would get some sleep. He hated that Bummer was causing her trouble, too. She obviously didn’t need any more burdens. Then Jake tried to ignore Bummer’s baying and concentrate on the patient. He tried to look on the sunny side. At least Bummer’s ruckus would keep him awake.
Jake looked into the puppy owner’s eyes and saw there the obvious question: What’s with the dog? He didn’t try to answer it. As he continued the examination against the background of Bummer’s baying, he thought about all the animals crowded into the animal shelter who wanted a home. Bummer didn’t know how good he had it.
An hour later, Kelsey closed the door to the treatment room where Jake had just finished treating a cat with ear mites. She glared at him. “If Bummer stays, I’m taking the rest of the day off.” She folded her arms and rested them on her bountiful abdomen, showing just how near the end of her last trimester loomed.
Jake didn’t blame her for being irritated. He was more than irritated. “I’ll go now, take him home, and leave him with the outside dogs.”
“Good, that should only take a few minutes and save you hiring a new office manager earlier than expected.” She reached for the doorknob. “I’ll explain to the next appointment that you’ve been delayed briefly by an emergency.”
Jake watched her go. He was tired. He was hungry. He wanted Bummer to shut up. He marched to the rear and collected his dog.
He drove home, carrying Bummer over the snow to the large dog run beside his garage. He opened the gate and set Bummer inside. The other outside dogs greeted him with friendly overtures.
Jake shook his finger at Bummer. “If you don’t stop this, you’re going to end up living out here.” Not a harsh threat. Jake’s outside dogs were the ones that ended up with him because no one else wanted them. Like the Dalmatian who’d lost a leg in an accident. Besides the large run, the dogs had a heated dog house. And when he was home, Jake let them run in his fenced wooded pasture.
Bummer grimaced at him, turned his back and bayed loud and long. Hoping a day of barking outside without a human audience would scotch this mutiny, Jake hurried to his truck and headed back to the clinic. Get over it, Bummer. Fast. I mean it.
Chapter 3
Saturday morning at 7:47, Jake groaned silently when he saw the parking lot outside his clinic. Surrounded by mounds of plowed snow, cars were packed tight together. He wouldn’t be closing up early this Saturday. He parked by the rear entrance, got out and motioned Bummer to get down. The dog gave him a look of pining misery and obeyed dejectedly.
Since ending his baying fest, Bummer gave his owner the silent treatment, interlaced with recriminating stares. Jake wondered how long this phase would last. How long would it take for Bummer to forget the kittens and little girls he’d latched on to as his responsibility?
Jake’s cell phone rang. He glimpsed the caller’s number; his low mood dropped to the soles of his feet.
To get out of the piercing cold, he hurried through the rear door to the clinic. “Hello, Dad.”
“Jacob, I’m flying in Wednesday afternoon. Can you pick me up?” His father spoke as usual in clipped sentences and without any preliminary conversation.
“What time?” Jake watched Bummer pad listlessly down the hallway past the office door, toward Kelsey’s station at the front.
“Around four o’clock. My flight number is 5672 from Chicago on United. Check on it before you start out in case of delay.”
“Will do.” Jake sank figuratively under this new weight that had just been dropped on him. What next?
“Thanks. See you then.” His father hung up. One would have thought their conversation cost him per word like an old-fashioned telegram. Jake scrubbed his face with his hands, trying to figure out how he felt through the haze from an over-busy week. He came up with just “not good.”
Hand on her hip, Kelsey appeared at the front end of the hallway outside the treatment rooms. “I was wondering if you were going to show up or leave me with all these people and pets.”
Jake didn’t reply. He tossed his coat into his office and headed back to the reception desk. “How many patients?”
Kelsey’s good nature had been seriously compromised during the last month. Jake knew it probably stemmed from her obvious physical discomfort and lack of
sleep. He’d been trying to find a replacement for her by word of mouth, but so far there’d been no takers.
“Let’s just say that the word for today is booked.”
“Okay, let’s get started.” His vet assistant, Sandy, in her thirties and known for flannel, not “frilly,” came in the rear door and shed her down jacket. After greeting her, he took the first file from Kelsey, ready to invite the first patient and owner into Exam Room One.
The phone rang as he began escorting the patient.
“Dr. McClure!” Kelsey said. Sandy led the patient and owner to the examining room. Jake took the phone from Kelsey. “Dr. McClure.”
“Hi, Jake, it’s Annie. Just wanted you to know we hit capacity at the shelter this morning. We don’t have room for even a canary now.”
The news triggered a low fire in Jake’s stomach.
“What’s plan B?” Annie asked.
“I don’t know. I guess we’ll have to start boarding strays with host families. You started the list, right?”
Annie sighed loud and long. “Yes, I have the list, but I hate this. I can’t understand why people aren’t adopting animals this winter.”
Like in a cartoon, Kelsey sent Jake looks that resembled firecracker streaks. She mouthed, We have patients waiting.
“I can’t talk right now, Annie. Start calling people on the list and confirming they will foster strays.”
“Okay.” Annie cut the connection.
Jake shrugged off the call as best he could. He had enough to worry about with Bummer acting up and his dad coming on Wednesday. Jake didn’t want to hear what his dad would say about Bummer. And what could he do to encourage people to adopt animals? Why couldn’t everyone be like Amy and her girls? He recalled how she had cradled the tiny kittens in her arms and how she’d cooed over and patted Bummer. The world needed more Amys.
