Clark wrote tech and then lifted the top page to clear the writing. “I don’t know. This isn’t her normal new tech fugue.” He rubbed Laylea’s ear and returned to the counter. “Hey Sher. What’s going on in there? You okay?”
“Give it up, Dad. She’s done for.”
Laylea and Clark both perked up to hear Bailey start a joke.
Laylea barked twice. Clark turned a stern gaze on his son. “Don’t say that.”
“No. It’s true,” Bailey insisted, still eating. “She’s done for.”
“Bailey, son,” Clark gripped the counter, shaking it. “Don’t say that.”
“Don’t waste your time, Dad.” Bailey finally giggled. He leaned in on an elbow and whispered to Laylea, “She’s totally done for.”
“Don’t say that.” Clark slammed his napkin on the table. “Never end your sentence with a preposition.”
The boys laughed. Laylea rolled on her belly and got foot rubs. Sher sat with a spoon halfway to her mouth. When the giggles had faded away, the boys stared at her.
“This is really weird,” Bailey admitted. “Can I have her food?”
“No.” Clark took the spoon from Sher’s hand and she finally looked at him. She raised her eyebrows and gestured at the stolen utensil.
“I said, what’s going on in there?” He ate the food and gave the spoon back. “Can we help?”
Sher snatched the spoon from Bailey when he tried to take it. “No. It’s a problem with one of my patients.”
“What’s going on? Maybe talking it out will provide a solution.”
“No.” She ate a bite. When the boys didn’t stop staring at her she added, “Don’t stress about it.”
Bailey grunted into his next bite, “You’re stressed about it.”
Laylea barked. She’d scratched address on her sketchpad.
Clark laughed. “I believe Laylea is saying if you address the problem you won’t have time to stress over it.”
Bailey turned to the dog food rug. “Hey, can Laylea help?”
“How could she help?” Sher scoffed.
“She’s a dog. Your patient is a dog.” Bailey kicked his stool back to get more food.
His parents watched him go.
“Sorry.” She took a sip of water. “Too many geniuses in one kitchen."
“Tell us the problem and we’ll see if there’s a way she could help.” Bailey picked up his fork. “Or do we keep secrets from each other now too?”
"I have a Schnauzer limping on a paw that has nothing wrong with it. Plus Herrhund won't let me touch him when the family is present."
Laylea wrote, I can help.
“Woodford can pinpoint where the problem is and Laylea can maybe help you understand why he's limping.”
“That’s a lot of translation. Pain to dog. Dog to English. English to doctor.”
Laylea wrote Is he in pane?
Sher took another pencil and wrote PAIN on the sheet as she nodded, “He is.”
“Then you should try.” Bailey pointed out as Laylea wrote We make better.
Sher flashed a glance at Clark, “If I take Laylea to work,” she looked back at Bailey, “you have to go to the cabin with us Christmas weekend. You don’t have marching band events that weekend.” Sher wanted to add a requirement that he submit to their strength testing but Bailey wasn’t the easy going boy he’d been. “And you,” before Bailey could reply Sher turned to the dog. “You need to answer one question truthfully.”
Laylea nodded, her head low.
“Did you eat all of Clark’s squash?”
Laylea pinned her ears back. She wrapped her tail tightly around her feet and lay down. Her big brown eyes ping-ponged between Clark and Sher. When Clark shrugged a shoulder at her, she barked. And then she barked again.
“That’s my girl!” Clark scooped Laylea off the counter before Sher could reach her.
The mom calmly picked up her spoon. “Too bad. I'll have to help that sick dog on my own.”
“Mom.” Bailey sat and picked up his fork. “She's not lying. I stole some of Dad’s squash.”
Chapter Thirty-Three
The family rose at the crack of dawn. Clark and Bailey followed Sher to work and left her with the two dogs. Even as early as Sher was, Michelle already sat at the reception desk, enjoying a gourmet coffee and the paper.
“Good morning, Dr. Sher.” Michelle swung her legs off the desk. “Jim and Kenny are couple of mucus factories. I got em up. Fed em breakfast and drugs. Put them back to bed. It was like a snot symphony serenading me from both bedrooms so I thought I’d come enjoy a quiet morning here.”
While Michelle chattered on, Woodford trotted over and curled up in his bed beside the desk.
Sher flipped through the mail. “That can’t be from our coffee maker then.”
“I used that French press your man brought us. But I stole Jim’s birthday coffee. And my mother’s French vanilla creamer.” She crooned down at Laylea. “Delicious. Oh! Both dogs are here today. First time ever.”
Sher searched for an explanation but as Laylea curled up right in her big brother’s belly, Michelle provided her own.
“Isn’t she the sweetest? She just adores him, doesn’t she? Do you think she knows how old he is and that he’s not gonna be around for much longer and so she wants to spend as much time with him as she can? I wish that I had had that sense before my father died. I regret now, so much that I didn’t take every opportunity I could. Well, you two just enjoy yourselves today. You are a lucky boy, Woodford.”
And she gave them each a giant Milkbone. Woodford took his and relocated to the blanket back in the corner of the filing room. Before he could settle though, Sher called him.
“Well you enjoy your morning. Woodford, Lee, come on. Let’s remind you where the bathroom is.”
She led them to the back. Woodford followed reluctantly but he did as he was told. They followed Sher past the new treatment table to the kennels. Laylea recoiled at the waves of fear. She scooted out of the way as Sher awkwardly carried a fifty pound schnauzer to the backyard.
After gaining his feet, Herrhund squatted and peed like a girl. When he limped away, Woodford noticed. Sher’s big boy sniffed along the taller dog’s chest. He completely ignored the limping paw. Woodford scanned the dog until he found a spot on Herrhund’s ribcage just behind the leg. Woodford touched his nose to the spot and held there. When Herrhund moved, Woodford moved with him.
Laylea barked once and led Sher toward the door. They left Herrhund to deal with OCD Woodford. Inside, Sher set Laylea and Herrhund’s chart on the counter in exam room C.
Laylea stood on Sher’s chest. Sher started to pick her up but the little dog grabbed the pen clipped to her coat and used it to point at the chest on the body diagram. Sher took the pen. She flipped off the cap and gave it back. Choking a little, Laylea wrote breathing hurts.
Sher stuck the business end of the stethoscope in her armpit while she carried Laylea back out to the yard. Though she’d left the door open, both boys were still standing as they had been. Sher kneeled in front of Herrhund.
“Okay, Mr. Dog, let’s take some pictures, what do you say?”
After the x-rays confirmed a broken rib, Sher started Herrhund on a course of steroids and settled the dog in a padded crated where he could rest sitting up which would be easier on his ribs. Laylea curled up in front of the crate.
Laylea stayed with Herrhund for most of the day. Later in the morning, Chris brought the portable ultrasound over to the crate. Despite Laylea’s efforts to assure him Chris was a good guy, Herrhund wouldn’t let the tech touch him. Sher came back looking for Laylea and got the tests done in a proverbial heartbeat.
“I’m borrowing Laylea for a minute.”
“Sure, Doc.” As they left the room, they heard him mumbling to the dog. “Something must be really wrong with you, pup. No one likes the doc better than me.”
Sher paused in Exam C. “I’ve got a stoic dog in B. Glover never gives me any
clues. Can you tell if she’s in pain?”
Laylea barked once and they continued on in to see the patient. The owner sat on the floor with a dappled greyhound leaning on his lap.
“This is Laylea.” Sher set her down backwards in front of Glover. “She’s one of those dogs that can sniff out a wound. Mind if we give it a shot?”
“Sure. If you think it could help.”
Laylea obediently sniffed the greyhound all over. Glover watched the smaller dog with half closed eyes. When Laylea reached her tail, the greyhound grunted. She turned away from Laylea and poked her muzzle under her dad’s hand.
Laylea barked twice and then tagged at Glover’s tail like Woodford would. Sher carried Laylea to the counter in room C. Laylea grabbed a pen. She waited for Sher to give her something to write on.
Glands. Constipated.
“The one would cause problems with the other.” Sher put Laylea on the ground and they returned to Exam B. “Hi David. You said her bathroom habits haven’t changed?”
“No,” David said. “She goes out in the yard at six in the morning, when I get home, and ten at night.”
Sher waited in case he had more to say. “Yes, but is she actually pooping normally?
“Oh, I don’t know that.” He looked appalled. “My gardener scoops the poop.”
Sher nodded. “Okay. Here’s what’s going on with her.”
Laylea got bored when Sher started her treatment talk. She pushed through the door to reception and curled up with Woodford in his bed.
Woodford slept for most of the day behind Michelle. He’d wake up to get water and stretch. Armando was setting a Bichon mix on the scale while he was getting water once and Woodford turned as the owner stepped up beside him. He sniffed. He left the water, dripping of course on the waiting room floor, and walked closer to the owner. He sniffed his leg. Weigh-in accomplished, the owner followed Armando into Exam B. Woodford went along. Laylea followed them. In Exam B, the owner stopped moving and Woodford sniffed his other leg. He put his nose on the guy’s shin and glued it there.
“What’s wrong with this dog? Should I be scared?”
Armando shook his head. “Woodford? He’s harmless. Did you walk through a flowerbed? I know he likes roses.” Armando tried to pull him away but Woodford had a good solid stubborn stance working for him.
Armando stepped over to the swinging door and hollered into the back room. “Hey Dr. Sher. Can you come look at your crazy dog?”
Sher came with her hands held in front of her, surgeon style. “What is Laylea doing now?”
“Not Laylea. Your big boy.”
Sher looked down at Woodford. Then she looked into the owner’s face. “Do you have any bruises or cuts on that leg?”
He smiled, flirting. “Just a mosquito bite. Trying to ignore it actually. I know I’m not supposed to scratch, Doctor.”
“What’s your name again?
“Stephen.”
“Do you mind if I take a look, Stephen?”
“Not at all.” He lifted the pant leg, keeping a close eye on Woodford as he did.
Sher looked at the spot Woodford had tagged. There was a small bump like a mosquito bite. And surrounding it was a subtler swelling and several rings of angry red. She looked up to see Armando wincing at the wound. He schooled his features when she raised an eyebrow at him.
Stephen,” Sher leaned around the owner to make a note on the dog’s chart. “You need to stop self-medicating and go to your doctor. We’ll keep Elmo here, free of charge, so you don’t have to drop him off at home. But you have to promise me that you won’t take any more medications until you are done driving for the day.”
“I’m fine,” he insisted.
“You’re not,” she informed him. “You can’t help Elmo if you’re not thinking straight. You have to put your own mask on first before assisting others. Armando, can you make sure Stephen gets off safely. And get Woodford a cookie. Elmo and I are gonna go get some shots.” She picked up Stephen’s dog and walked away into the back.
“She… she just took my dog.”
“The doctor can be like that.” Armando opened the door to reception. “Do you have a local GP you can call? Dr. Pantras is mine and he’s a good guy with short notice.”
“Yeah, he’s my doctor.” Stephen followed Armando slowly. He seemed to not fully believe what was going on.
“Fabulous. You can walk. Michelle will call and tell his receptionist you’re on your way. Bye.” Armando pushed on Stephen’s lower back and shut the front door behind him. “Michelle, can you let Dr. Pantras know we’re sending Stephen over with a necrotizing spider bite?” Armando took a cookie from the jar for Woodford. “He’s got a fever and is probably doing some serious self-medicating.”
Michelle picked up the phone. “Elmo?”
“He’s staying with us until the doc says otherwise. Thanks, Michelle.”
Woodford was asleep before the call connected.
Laylea pushed through to the back room. She found Sher ruffling the Bichon's fur as she set him in a crate. Nobody else was around. Laylea barked. When Sher looked at her, she tilted her head and tagged Sher's ankle.
"I couldn't heal it. He would have noticed." Sher sighed. "We have to stay hidden. For the whole family's safety."
Laylea sighed.
"Come on, Lee. Let's go for a walk." Sher stood.
They left Woodford in the clinic. Sher led Laylea across the town square to the library. Sher carried Laylea to the old people’s section. This was the area with shelves that were only filled a few rows above and below eye height. And all the books were printed with enormous lettering.
Sher strolled along each aisle, looking up and down the shelves and crouching down so that Laylea could see all the titles. She barked when she recognized Cujo. But Sher shushed her.
“You can’t bark in here. Can you tag my arm when you see one you like?”
Laylea tagged Sher’s arm with her nose.
“Do you want to read Cujo?”
Laylea looked up at Sher and shook her head. Sher laughed.
In the end Laylea picked out five books. Sher’s favorite selection was Mia Dethica’s Guide to Patience in Dog Training. After checking out and being civil to a few patrons who were drawn to Laylea, they strolled back to the clinic.
Sher carried Laylea most of the way so she could speak quietly. “You’ve been very helpful today. Above and beyond normal family chores. We all work together. You see that. Clark and I do jobs to support the family. You and Bailey are kids so your work right now is school. We push Bailey to learn as much as he can about everything so that when it comes time for him to have an income job, he’ll be better equipped to find and land one that will make him happy. He does chores as well, like we all do. And if he does more than his share or something extra like weeding, he gets a reward. For him it’s games. Clark gets fancy seeds. I get bourbon. Today you did above and beyond. You should think of something you would like…” Laylea barked several times and struggled to get down.
She ran to a spot of mud. The only person nearby was a blind woman tapping her way along another path. Laylea scratched in the mud. Sher read what the dog had written and wiped it out with her foot. She bent down.
“No. I don’t care how above and beyond you go, I am not going to let you eat the Ricks’ cat.”
Laylea started tracing an L in the mud. Sher picked her up.
“No, I’m not going to let you eat it even just a little. I took you to the library as a reward for today.” Laylea licked Sher’s cheek. “Thanks. You should think of what you might want next time.”
Laylea turned her head and bent over to chew gently on Sher’s thumb.
“Wish I could help you with that, Lee. I want my family. Clark wants his memories. Bailey,” she sighed. “Bailey wants to turn back time. You want thumbs. I don’t think there’s much hope for any of us.”
Sher set Laylea down to walk the rest of the way to the clinic. Laylea stayed right by her side,
tagging the mom’s leg every few feet.
The Director swiped to the camera view showing the front door of the clinic. He set it to auto scan the footage from the moment it had gone operational. It slowed every time a person entered frame. Only two days of footage skimmed by before the good doctor showed up with her little tricycle and the dogs. She rolled the bike inside and waved over her shoulder. The Director skimmed through the listing of angles. He pulled up a wide shot from the nearby telephone pole. They’d been unable to get any cameras working inside the clinic or even attached to the outside of the building. He’d love to know how Coogan had managed that little trick.
He typed in the time code and the wide shot jumped to show two bicycles sticking out beyond an SUV parked at the curb.
“Come on. Come on.”
The bikes rolled back. The Director pulled up one of the four traffic cams they’d charged the city to install. Bingo. Two bikes. A man rode one. A boy the other. Jumping from camera to camera, the Director followed the pair to the local school. Two buildings separated by a small courtyard served the entire population of Foothills throughout their education years. The man watched as the boy locked up his bike.
The Director watched as Theta hopped off his bike to hug his son and hand him off to a dour kid in a black trench coat. The kid said something drowned out by the buzz of all the other kids messing around on the playground before first bell. But the son, Bailey, punched him and the two laughed all the way into the school.
He messaged his operative. Tag the blue and grey hybrid behind the school: audio/video/tracking
The Director’s hand hovered over the archive button as he turned back to the still frame of the little dog nosing Dr. Coogan’s leg.
“The witch and the warrior have a son.” He chuckled. “Now we have a ballgame.”
Chapter Thirty-Four
“Mom!”
Laylea looked up. Bailey’s piercing voice startled her from the book she was reading with Clark on the porch swing. The solar lamps had judged it dark enough to flip on thanks to the dark clouds racing in from the mountains. Woodford, their new teenager, slept on. His muzzle rested on the purple dragon the Ruckers had given him for his birthday. The boys had brought it over along with Parker’s toddler and they’d all played on the porch until she’d fallen on Woodford one too many times. Screams rivaling Bailey’s pitch still carried from the OLR’s yard where the boys rolled around in the grass with Ella.
WereHuman - The Witch's Daughter: Consortium Battle book 1 (Wyrdos) Page 22
