Love is a Four-Legged Word: The romantic comedy about canines, conception and fresh starts

by Michele Gorman

  Mr Woodwin was round. His appley pink cheeks and laughing blue eyes were awfully jolly for someone who handled people’s bits all the time. His sparse greying close-cropped hair did add to his general look of competence, though.

  ‘Right, well, you’ll be anxious about the test results, so let’s not delay.’ In the brief moment that he looked first into Rufus’s eyes and then Scarlett’s, she knew the news wasn’t good.

  At some level she must have known already, or at least she’d started preparing herself for the possibility.

  She seemed to float above them as Mr Woodwin told the couple tightly holding hands in the chairs that Rufus’s condition was rare. She heard him say it wasn’t a delivery problem but a production one. Non-obstructive azoospermia. The few sperm they found in the testes sample had maturation arrest and sperma-something-else. It was a double whammy. She was aware that Rufus asked if it was curable and listened as Mr Woodwin explained that they didn’t like to use words like curable.

  ‘Well, what word would you use then?’ he asked him.

  Mr Woodwin’s cheery demeanour didn’t waver. He was used to delivering bad news. ‘There may still be some assisted reproduction options.’

  ‘What the hell does that even mean?’ he snapped.

  ‘Rufus! I’m sorry, Doctor– Mr Woodwin. Assisted reproduction?’

  Mr Woodwin was still smiling to show he didn’t take Rufus’s outburst personally. ‘Sometimes non-obstructive azoospermia is caused by a hormone imbalance. A problem with the hypothalamus or pituitary gland can cause this, but that doesn’t seem to be the case here. Your hormone tests all came back within the normal ranges. And it’s not from trauma or a physical abnormality like an undescended testicle.’

  ‘Then what is causing it?’ The anguish in Rufus’s question was palpable.

  Mr Woodwin shrugged. ‘We don’t know. I understand how frustrating this is, but in some cases there isn’t a clear reason for the difficulty. What we can do is look at some alternatives like artificial insemination using donor sperm. That’s not my area of expertise, but of course I’d work closely with a fertility specialist if that’s a route you’d like to look into. Rufus, Scarlett, I’m sorry I haven’t got better news, but there are other options to become parents. Do you have any questions?’

  Scarlett could barely hear Rufus speak. ‘Is there any chance for me to father my own child?’

  The compassion on Mr Woodwin’s face was as absolute as it was heartbreaking. ‘There may be a chance, and I have to stress may, but you’ll need to weigh up the pros and cons of any treatment. They are very intensive and in some cases extremely invasive.’

  This coming from a man who’d already carved out a piece of her husband’s scrotum.

  ‘As I said, in my opinion there isn’t an identifiable cause so there won’t be a definitive treatment. Anything that’s tried would be an informed shot in the dark. That’s not technically a medical phrase, by the way.’ Mr Woodwin sighed. ‘I’m sorry. It’s never easy to hear news like this. I suggest you take some time to think about it before making any decisions about the next steps, okay? I’ll send a letter to your GP this week so any other doctor you talk to will have the full picture so far.’

  So far. That didn’t sound like the end of the story to Scarlett.

  ‘Mr Woodwin said we could get a second opinion,’ she said as they left his office. The sunshine was at odds with the morning they were having. It seemed wrong to feel the warmth of the sun on her back, as if it was just an ordinary spring day. She sipped from the water bottle she carried in her bag, then offered it to Rufus.

  She didn’t expect his response. ‘Jesus Christ, Scarlett, what’s the point?’ For a split second she thought he was talking about the water. ‘I’ve already had two sperm tests, a biopsy and all the hormone tests. Another doctor would just do the same to me. He won’t find anything different.’

  ‘He might, though. We can’t give up, Rufus. Not when there might still be a chance.’ She was talking to herself as much as him. ‘If there’s any chance of having your baby, I want to take it.’

  ‘But it’s my body, Scarlett. Don’t I get a say in what happens to it? Maybe I don’t want to be your sperm donor at all costs.’

  ‘I don’t see you as my sperm donor, Rufus. I see you as my husband, who I want to have a baby with. We’re supposed to be in this together.’

  That was the deal. It wasn’t even her promise at first. It was his, back when Oscar was sick.

  They’d only been together for a few months when, one night as they laid on her sofa watching Mad Men with Oscar between them, she’d felt a lump under the dog’s leg.

  Oscar had side-eyed her as she gently prodded him. ‘It’s come back,’ she’d said. Her shoulders prickled, making her shiver, as her tears welled up. ‘Oscar’s cancer. It’s here.’

  Rufus went with her to the vet the next day, but the news was what Scarlett had feared. ‘He did okay in the last round of chemo,’ said the vet, ‘but honestly, Scarlett, he’s thirteen now.’ He scratched Oscar’s soft brown ears affectionately. He’d known the dog since he was a puppy. ‘I know you don’t want to see him go, but…’ Scarlett knew what he was saying. Who would she really be doing it for? ‘Is he in pain?’ she asked. She couldn’t make the words for the question she really wanted to ask form on her tongue.

  Rufus moved quickly to her side to throw his arm round her shoulders. Nothing would have made her happy at that moment, but feeling Rufus’s solid body beside her did help.

  The vet understood her question. ‘You don’t need to think about putting him down yet. He doesn’t seem to be in any discomfort. If he slows down or has trouble eating, then you should bring him in. I’m sorry, Scarlett, but he should have a little while yet.’

  Her heart leaped. ‘How long? Months?’

  The vet shook his head. ‘More like weeks, probably. Just enjoy him, make him as comfortable as possible. Now’s the time to give him anything he wants.’ Oscar’s tail thumped on the metal table when the vet leaned down to kiss the top of his head.

  She was aware that the pet owners in the waiting room looked away from her as they led Oscar out. The last thing they probably wanted to see was a crying woman leaving with her pet.

  Rufus stopped her on the way to the car. ‘We’re in this together, no matter what, you know. I’ll do whatever you need me to, okay? Just tell me. I mean it, Scarlett, I’ll do anything for you, now and for the rest of our lives.’

  His words were the tiny light in an otherwise black day and, as they spoiled Oscar rotten with steak for supper and daily scratching sessions that went on for hours, she and Rufus became closer than she ever imagined two people could be.

  Oscar seemed healthy for just over a month, then one morning he didn’t bound from his dog bed as usual when she grabbed his lead. ‘Are you all right, boy?’ she sat on the floor to stroke his head. ‘Sleeping in this morning?’ But she knew he wasn’t just being lazy. She rang Rufus at work. They both cried on the phone.

  ‘Will you come with me?’ she asked.

  ‘Of course. I’ll do anything for you.’

  Obviously that promise had expired when Oscar did.

  Now, walking in the sunshine, together but somehow not together, she felt the distance she couldn’t even imagine five years earlier. ‘I think you’re being too pessimistic about this,’ she said. ‘Shouldn’t we at least get another opinion? An opinion isn’t too invasive, is it?’

  He reeled away from her. ‘Let’s see. I’m made to wank into a cup, again. No, that’s not too bad compared to, say, sticking a needle into my ball sack. Oh, which I’ll also have to do again. Who knows? Maybe this time they’ll put a little camera up my willy or something. Just to be sure I’m completely sterile. Excuse me for not rushing over to sign up for that.’

  She couldn’t see whether they were tears on his face. It didn’t matter really. His words told her all she needed to know.

  Her grip was awkward when she he gathered him b
ack to her. ‘We will do this together. I promise. If we can’t do it the normal way, then we can look into artificial insemination. There’ll be a way, Rufus. We will have a baby.’ She wondered why she didn’t want to cry when a few months ago the idea of not having a child had her in floods. Maybe she’d used up her quota.

  ‘If there’s one thing I am sure about, Scarlett, it’s that I don’t want someone else’s child.’

  ‘Not even if it’s mine?’ she whispered.

  ‘Yours and some random stranger’s,’ he spat. ‘I’d feel even more like a loser then, knowing we had to pay some bloke to give you what I can’t. Can’t you see, Scarlett?’

  Yes, she could. She could see that the man who was supposed to love her was threatening to keep them from having a baby because it hurt his ego. ‘What happened to being in this together?’

  He didn’t answer.

  ‘You meant it when you thought it was my fault, didn’t you? Now that it’s not, suddenly it’s every man for himself. Is that it?’

  He couldn’t look at her.

  ‘Where does that leave us, then?’

  ‘I honestly have no idea,’ he said.

  They didn’t speak as they walked back home.

  She rang Shannon as soon as Rufus left for the train station. ‘I need you,’ she said when her friend answered. ‘What are you doing?’

  ‘It doesn’t matter. Are you home? I’ll be there in twenty minutes.’

  The tears came then, in great big pity-filled splashes on to the marble worktop that they’d picked out together back when they thought they’d be together forever.

  Chapter 24 ½

  ‘Take Stevie and Nick here, for example,’ Mr Darcy was saying as he stroked his thumb over one of the greyhounds’ sleek fawn-coloured heads. Shannon tried not to stare at his hands. They were nice hands. The kind of hands that would be warm to hold.

  She blamed the weather for her interest in his hands. The clear sky and mild breeze was churning her tummy with anticipation. It always did at this time of year. Sunshine was starting to push the darkness to the edges of the day and it was warm enough to don her Converse high-tops and ditch her tights. That always seemed like a time for optimism. ‘I guess their owners are Fleetwood Mac fans,’ she answered Mr Darcy. ‘Fleetwood and Mac might be worse, you know.’

  ‘People think it’s hilarious to name their pets like that, but do they ever think about us? We’re left shouting stupid puns across the park every day. “Come here, Block and Tackle.”’

  She laughed longer than she needed to, but she wanted to encourage him. When it came to awkwardness he was even worse than her. ‘I don’t know why people do it.’ She glanced at the pugs. ‘What happens if these others go before Velma? Then she’ll just be a weirdly named dog.’

  Her pocket started ringing. ‘I’m sorry, I’ve got to take this call. Hi, Scarlett.’

  ‘It doesn’t matter,’ she said into the phone. ‘Are you home? I’ll be there in twenty minutes.’ She gathered up the pugs’ leads and stuffed her phone back into her pocket. ‘I’m really sorry, but I’ve got to get to my friend’s. They’re– She’s– I’ve got to go.’

  His expression creased with concern. ‘Oh, well, okay. Actually, I had– do you… I was just wondering…’

  But Shannon was already hurrying towards the gate.

  ‘I’m Josh,’ he called after her.

  She spun round. ‘I’m Shannon. I, erm– bye.’

  Josh. She tried it out on her tongue as she walked towards Scarlett’s. Joshua. No, definitely Josh. It wouldn’t be such a bad name once she got used to it. She was making progress, right? Never let it be said that she wasn’t a mover and shaker.

  Yeah, right. More like a creeper and a crawler.

  It was, though, the most progress she’d made with a man in years. If, by progress, one counted having brief conversations with someone whose name she couldn’t find the courage to ask. At least he’d saved her that trouble.

  Foreboding crept up Shannon’s neck when Scarlett flung herself on her at the front door. Scarlett wasn’t a flinger.

  As a rule she wasn’t a sobber either, but just then, rules were being broken all over the place. ‘It’s all right,’ Shannon murmured into her friend’s shaking shoulder. ‘It will be all right.’ She hated such platitudes, but what else was she supposed to say? There’d be time for solutions later.

  Scarlett pulled away with a raggedy breath. ‘Come into the kitchen. Fred and Ginger will love the pugs.’

  But the Westies weren’t as keen on their houseguests as Scarlett assumed. They ran at the pugs, which just made them wriggle and fall over. They really were hopeless at being dogs.

  ‘Rufus went into work after the appointment?’ she asked. He’d always used work as a distraction. He must be really upset or he’d have rung her already.

  Scarlett nodded. ‘He couldn’t get away fast enough.’ She bashed the kettle against the tap as she filled it. ‘So much for being in this together.’ The tea mugs clattered on the marble worktop.

  ‘You are in it together! I know Rufus, and he loves you.’

  But as she listened to what happened, the first tiny doubts trickled into her mind. The doubts came faster as Scarlett talked, until they were a deluge that threatened to wash away her certainty about her best friends.

  ‘He’s just in shock, Scarlett, I’m sure of it. Of course he’ll consider adoption or a sperm donor if there’s no other way. He wants a baby as much as you do.’

  Shannon’s heart sank as Scarlett shook her head. ‘He wants his baby, not some stranger’s. No matter that it would still be my baby. That’s not enough for him, apparently.’

  Shannon sipped her steaming tea. ‘It’s too early for the two of you to even be talking about this. You’ve just now found out. You need time to think things through. That’s what the doctor said too, right? Don’t put so much pressure on yourselves when no decisions need to be made right now.’

  ‘It’s too late, though. We have talked about it and Rufus has made his position clear.’

  ‘Please don’t judge him by what he said when he was upset. He’ll change his mind.’

  Scarlett sipped her tea. ‘Maybe. The problem is, Shannon, now that I know how he feels deep down, how could I trust that he won’t change it back after it’s too late?’

  Shannon had no idea how she was going to help Scarlett and Rufus. She just knew she had to. They couldn’t break up. Sure, they’d probably move on eventually, meet new partners and live happily ever after, but what about her? Assuming she even survived the split without taking sides and permanently alienating one of them. They were the constants in her life, and it was full because of them. Now that art school was finished, she didn’t have much else. Her world was whittled down to a fine point. Scarlett and Rufus were teetering on top.

  ‘Rufus, stop screening,’ she said to his answerphone when she’d left Scarlett. ‘I know you can see that I’m ringing. And don’t tell me you’re busy with meetings either. I’ve known you since you wet your bed, so don’t lie to me. Ring me back.’

  ‘Jesus, Shannon, you sound like a stalker. I’m ringing back. Happy now?’

  ‘I’ve just been with Scarlett. What time do you finish work?’

  ‘I’m not sure.’

  ‘Need a drink?’

  ‘Jesus, yes.’

  Chapter 25

  Life went on for Scarlett as if the urology appointment had never happened. The sun still shone and the rain fell, politicians still argued in Parliament, she still stepped in puppy wee and ran low on milk for her coffee every few days. Nothing had changed. Everything had changed.

  Rufus went out with Shannon most nights now. Each morning she rang Scarlett to dissect their conversation. Despite these autopsies, Scarlett was no closer to understanding her husband.

  How could someone who claimed to love her keep her from having the child she wanted so badly? Because that’s what his refusal was doing. Oh, sure, technically she could overrule him a
nd get a sperm donor anyway. Then he’d probably leave her. He’d definitely resent her and that wasn’t what she wanted either.

  Rufus’s defunct testicles were holding her happy family baby dreams hostage. This was no Stockholm Syndrome. She didn’t sympathise with her captors.

  She did try talking to him directly. It wasn’t fair to use Shannon as their interpreter all the time. He’d calmed down since the appointment, or at least he was hiding his anger if it was still there. He was more like the old Rufus than he’d been in months. A tiny part of her wondered if he felt relieved to have an answer finally. As devastating as it was, maybe he was moving on.

  If only she could.

  She arrived at Margaret’s house half-expecting to see her hanging off a paint-spattered ladder, but the front hall was still pristinely white. So she hadn’t had a change of heart about the caterer.

  Biscuit stood beside Margaret as she opened the door. ‘Mrs Fothergill, come in! Come, Biscuit.’

  To Scarlett’s astonishment, the dog did what she was told. Margaret’s smile was triumphant. ‘Not bad, eh?’

  ‘Fantastic, Margaret! She’s like a different dog. The new techniques have really helped.’ Scarlett squatted down to give Biscuit a good rub. She deserved it. ‘I don’t think you’ll need another lesson after today. Good girl, Biscuit!’

  Margaret’s face fell. ‘Oh, I hope we will, Mrs Fothergill! I so enjoy our sessions.’

  Scarlett laughed. ‘So do I, but I’d be taking your money for no reason if we continued when Biscuit doesn’t need more training. This is a good thing, you’ve done a wonderful job retraining your dog. You should be very proud.’

  She shrugged. ‘S’pose.’

  ‘We’ve still got today, though. Shall we have a cup of tea first?’ She usually drank coffee at home and at her dad’s, but she’d been raised by her mum as a staunch tea drinker, so she didn’t discriminate when it came to caffeine.

  Margaret perked up as she filled the kettle and chose a selection of biscuits from the stack of tins in the cabinet.