Serendipity

by Summer Foovay

  "I'll go fix the old boy a pallet in the kitchen, close to the back door." Curtis offered, and turned to go inside and find the old blankets and towels and dog beds they kept for that purpose.

  Kathy knew he was leaving so he wouldn't have to watch her as she picked the old dog up and got him out of the truck. Curtis hated that he could no longer do all the heavy lifting – or even light lifting – even though he knew Kathy was perfectly capable on her own. And, of course, Kathy knew in this case that poor old dog couldn't weigh 100 pounds – although she bet in his younger days he went well over that. She opened the cage door and kissed at the old dog, who raised his head higher and pointed his ears at her. She patted the truck bed and stepped back, hoping he would get up and hop out on his own.

  As if he knew what she wanted, but just couldn't do it, the old dog whined softly and dropped his head back down onto his paws before giving her a pleading look from deep brown eyes. Kathy sighed and climbed into the cage with him – sometimes it was good to be a small woman. She got an arm under his chest and another under his rump again and then shuffled backwards on her knees, drawing him and the blanket with her. When she got to the end of the tailgate she reached down with one leg and felt for the ground, got her foot set, and then gently pulled them both out until she was able to stand on two feet with the massive dog in her arms, leaning on her chest. The dog sighed and draped his head over her shoulder in resignation. At least he seemed to have decided she was trustworthy.

  Kathy carried him inside, Curtis meeting her at the door and opening it for her. As she gently put the dog down into the soft nest Curtis had made for him by the back door, she noticed gratefully that Curtis had already put down a water bowl full of crystal clear bottled water. The local tap water was full of minerals, and was generally a little cloudy to say the least. Some of the more picky animals would not drink it and Kathy didn't blame them. She didn't drink it either, and Curtis wouldn't even cook with it. Given the dog's debilitated state, it was safer to offer him the bottled water – maybe it would tempt him into drinking it himself.

  That seemed to be exactly the case as the dog immediately spotted the water and his eyes lit up. He was still lying down when he started lapping the water as fast as he could gulp it down. The bowl wasn't too large – so he could drink a good bit, but not enough to make him sick. Curtis was at the cupboard looking over the selection they had there of tempting and healthy pet foods Kathy kept on hand for cases like this.

  "His teeth are awful." She mentioned, and Curtis chose a can of wet dog food that consisted of soft chunks with gravy. He put about half the can into a bowl, and then microwaved it for a few seconds so the gravy would warm and the smell rise to further entice the dog. For his part, the old dog took his head out of the water bowl long enough to lift his ears and look around for the source of that delicious smell. After letting it cool a bit, Kathy set the bowl in front of him. Again, he sniffed it carefully, and then looked up at her.

  "It's okay, big boy, it's okay." She reassured him.

  Only then did he lower his head and eagerly begin lapping up the gravy, and eventually daintily picking up the morsels to chew.

  "I suspect he is trained only to take food from one person." Kathy told Curtis, who nodded in agreement, "And that person – if I'm right – isn't here any more. He did take a biscuit from me. Maybe we can get him to take food from you, too. Poor old guy is pretty hungry, I'm sure."

  Curtis looked at him and sighed. "Poor old guy. Bet he saw the whole thing."

  "Probably." Kathy agreed, "Sure would be nice if he could talk and tell us all about it."

  "Yeah." Curtis agreed with a rueful smile, "I bet Sgt. Morales would love that!"

  The rest of the evening passed quietly and routinely, dinner and Netflix – with breaks to offer the dog more water and more food at intervals. When Curtis made popcorn in the microwave, the dog sat up and wagged his tail, and then managed to stand and slowly follow Curtis across the room to where he and Kathy sat on the couch and watched old comedies on the big screen. He sat between them on the floor, with his back to the couch and twisted his head around to give them a mournful look.

  "I do believe the old boy knows about popcorn." Curtis chuckled. "He can have a piece – can't he Mom?" he pleaded in his pretend kid voice.

  Kathy snorted and nodded permission. The dog took the popcorn as gentle as could be, put the piece on the floor, inspected it thoroughly and then looked at Kathy.

  "It's okay, big boy, it's okay." She soothed.

  The dog lay down and crunched up his popcorn, then fell asleep at their feet.

  His Name Is Hero

  Curtis was an early riser, and when Kathy came into the kitchen at 7 to make her coffee, she found him sitting on the floor with the old Shepard sprawled blissfully in front of him as Curtis gently and thoroughly brushed and worked each of thousands of various types of goats heads, stickers, mesquite spines, and burrs out of the dogs thick coat. A bucket full of them sat on the floor next to him, testifying to hours of tedious, loving effort. The old dogs dark brown eyes gazed worshipfully up at Curtis, but he did spare a couple of tail wags for Kathy when she bent down to run her hands over his now almost silky black and tan fur.

  "Aren't you amazing?" she asked, and then smiled at Curtis, "Both of you. He looks much better, and I'm sure he feels much better. I thought the vet might have to shave him. Any ticks?"

  "Nope. No fleas either." Curtis replied. This isn't unusual in the high desert – there is so little water that the pests don't breed like they do in more temperate parts of the country.

  "Great. I would hate for him to have to be dipped. I'll pick up some dry shampoo and we can brush it through him tonight. That will hold him until he is in better shape. I'm going to take him on up to Dr. Cordero in Deming this morning and get a thorough exam done."

  "Sounds like a good idea. He took food from me this morning, so when you get back with him bring him by the house and I'll watch him until you get off work."

  "Yes, I see you boys have bonded." Kathy chuckled. "I thought he might take to you. He belonged to a single man, so he is probably more comfortable around men than women."

  "So what's the plan for him?"

  "I am not sure. I don't know who is going to end up with jurisdiction over that mess out there and whoever it is might want some say in what happens to him. Back in the city we would have held him at the shelter until the case he's involved in was heard in court, and then the judge would rule on him as well. If a dog's owner is sent to jail and no one can be found to be responsible, then usually the dog is put to sleep. Sometimes the judge will have the owner sign off so we could put the dog up for adoption if they were adoptable. This poor guy is so old...well..." Kathy's voice trailed off. She didn't want to state the obvious, especially since she could see Curtis was already more than half in love with the big dog.

  Curtis set his jaw and looked away, and then down where his hands were still busy stroking their way through the thick fur, feeling for more burrs. As if he knew they were talking about him, the dog heaved a big sigh that ended in a soft moan and closed his eyes.

  Kathy cleared her throat and sat down at the table with her hot, black Mexican coffee.

  "First things first. Let me get him to the vet and find out what all is actually wrong with him. Is he acting like he hurts anywhere?"

  Curtis shook his head without meeting her eyes. "No, he doesn't seem at all tender or sensitive. He's still a little wobbly though. We took a walk out back earlier and he had a decent bowel movement, a little runny but then he's only had soft food. He came back in and had another can of food while I worked on his coat. I think he's mostly really weak. I can feel every bone in his body under this fur. Quite a bit of fur has brushed out, too, but I think it's mostly shedding from stress. I bet he's a real beauty when he's filled out and cleaned up."

  Kathy sighed. She knew the fate of the old dog probably wasn't going to be a good one. But then things were different here in th
e Land of Manyana. Maybe if she simply kept her mouth shut about the dog they could keep him and give him a comfortable home for whatever time he might have left.

  She finished her coffee and called the vet and told them she was bringing an old dog in that was in bad shape. Calling into to dispatch to check in, she let them know she was taking the dog to the vet in Deming. Kathy threw a number of old blankets in the bed of the cage truck, and then tied a tarp down over the wire cage to keep the wind off the old fellow. It was about 30 miles, mostly highway, up to the vet's office. The old dog shuffled out to the truck under his own power, but she had to lift him inside again. He gave a gusty sigh and lay down with his head on his paws. Giving Curtis a last mournful look, he closed his eyes as if he couldn't bear to see any more. Curtis looked away, too and Kathy was pretty sure her tenderhearted husband was holding back tears. She hugged him around the waist and leaned her head on his shoulder.

  "I'll do what I can, hon. If I can bring the old boy home, I will, okay?"

  Curtis nodded and gave her a quick squeeze and a soft kiss before she got in the truck. She saw him standing in the door, waving goodbye as she pulled away and waved back out the window.

  The morning was cool and beautiful under a clear blue sky. All the traffic on the highway seemed to be on the other side – coming from Deming to Columbus – and mostly various law enforcement vehicles. Kathy was a little surprised to see several news vans pass her as well, but then a mass grave probably was pretty big news. It was no secret that more than a few people died out there in the desert, trying to cross into America from Mexico, but it was rare for them to be found. And, of course, this was not a case of a few illegals who got lost and died of thirst, but a number of women who were flat out executed. Kathy pursed her lips and shook her head with a shudder. Whatever the story was, it couldn't be anything good. And poor old Shep back there probably saw the whole thing. She wondered where he fit in. His owner was found dead, Sgt. Morales had told her, had probably died of natural causes before the murders happened. No telling if he kept Shep indoors with him or outside, either way the old dog was left alone to starve. And then someone came along with a group of women and ... yes, no doubt Shep had seen it all. She wondered if he hid, or if he had tried to defend his home, or even tried to defend the women as well. She liked to think he was the kind of dog who would have stood up against someone who was being cruel to another. But how weak was he by then? Kathy shook her head. She kinda wished he could talk, too.

  When she carried him into the vet's office and laid him on the examining table, Dr. Cordero took one look and turned around to his cabinets of medicine and equipment, opening doors and pulling out a syringe and a bottle of pink Euthasol.

  "Wait." Kathy moved to stand between him and the old dog.

  The vet raised his dark, sculpted eyebrows over his large, dark brown eyes. His face was classic Latino, with sleepy looking bedroom eyes set in a round face, and a black pencil mustache and goatee emphasizing his strong jaw line. Almost the exact same height as Kathy, he looked her right in the face and cocked his head like a quizzical Labrador.

  "You didn't bring this old boy in to be put to sleep? Can he even stand by himself?"

  "Yes, he can. And, he may be a witness to a crime. Anyway, he is involved – so unless it is a quality of life issue I can't let you put him down yet. That will be for a judge to determine."

  "What?" Dr. Cordero asked, thoroughly confused by now.

  "I picked him up at a crime scene yesterday. His owner is probably dead. Anyway, we don't know anything for sure yet. No one has gotten back to me, but procedure when I was working for the city was animals involved in court cases were held until the judge's disposition. So unless he is really too sick to survive, I think I probably need to hold him until I'm notified about what to do with him."

  Dr. Cordero snorted. "Yeah, and then they'll tell you to have him killed."

  Kathy shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant even though her heart ached. "Probably. But for now I want you to look him over and tell me what you think. I think mainly he is old and half-starved."

  Dr. Cordero approached the table and Kathy moved out of his way, reassured that he no longer held the syringe in his hands. Instead he picked up his stethoscope and placed it gently on the big dogs chest. The dog gazed at him from deep brown eyes, alert but trusting. He had been to see a vet before.

  "I got a couple of big cans of dog food into him, and plenty of water. This morning we got the burrs out of his coat – no fleas or ticks evident. He can move around, but he appears weak, especially in the rear quarters."

  By now the vets hands were gently and expertly exploring every inch of the old dog. Suddenly they stopped and he moved behind the dog, pushing the thick fur over the dog’s bony hips the wrong way to see the skin.

  "You said you picked him up at a crime scene?" he asked, looking sharply at Kathy.

  "Yes."

  "Was this a recent crime or-"?

  Kathy took a deep breath. "I don't' think the investigators have set a solid time for it, but it's been long enough for – for the victims to be mostly decomposed."

  The vet now had his hands on the dogs muzzle, opening his lips and examining his teeth and gums. At Kathy's words he stopped, let go and took a step back.

  "Those dead people. In the arroyo near Columbus?"

  Kathy nodded and the vet shook his head. "Terrible thing. Terrible thing. And this poor old guy, he was there, too?"

  "Yes. It looks like his owner died of natural causes, leaving the dog to starve."

  "Hell of a thing. It happens. And then someone comes along and kills half a dozen women there. He probably saw it all."

  "Yes."

  "Got shot."

  "What?" Kathy exclaimed.

  "That's what is wrong with his hips. I'm no expert, but I've seen a lot of gunshot wounds on animals. My guess is he went after someone who was holding a gun in their right hand. He grabbed their arm and they probably switched the gun to their left hand and shot at him but nearly missed. The bullet grazed his back and his right hip. He must have been pretty skinny already – it hit the hipbone and might even have chipped or broken it. I'll need to get an x-ray and see."

  Oblivious to Kathy's stunned expression, Dr. Cordero ran gentle but firm hands over the dogs head and around his face, coming back to the dog's forehead several times.

  "I want an x-ray of his skull as well, but I think I'm feeling a spot here where he may have a healed fracture. I suspect someone hit him over the head with something hard – gun butt maybe – maybe knocked him out and thought they killed him, too. Poor old boy." Dr. Cordero stopped and laid his cheek against the big dogs head and the dog closed his eyes as if acknowledging that yes, he got hurt but he tried his best.

  Dr. Cordero called his vet tech in and showed her the old, healed injuries and asked her to get the x-rays and a blood sample. The dog hesitated, but when Kathy said, "It's okay, big boy, it's okay." He gave a soft wave of his tail and willingly went with the tech. The vet leaned back against the counter and looked at Kathy.

  "I'll need you to write me a detailed report of those injuries, and how you think he got them." She told him.

  He nodded. "Those injuries are old, and have healed on their own. Neither of them was a terrible injury, but he was probably already dehydrated, hungry and weak and of course, he is an old dog."

  "So..." Kathy prodded him.

  The vet smiled at her. "You're a softie, for an Animal Control Officer, you know that Ms. Tyler?"

  It was Kathy's turn to smile ruefully. "Yeah, I know."

  "Well, I think mostly he is old, he is still a little dehydrated, and starved. His heart and lungs sound good, but we'll test him for heartworms and get a fecal sample. Depending on what I see on the x-rays, there probably isn't much I can do about the old injuries. A good many of his teeth are gone and several are broken but he doesn't seem to be in any pain. Keep him on soft food and when he's doing better bring him back and I'll anesth
etize him and take the broken teeth out so they don't abscess on him. I'd like him to have a little more weight going for him before I do vaccinations, so bring him back to me in a couple of weeks for that. So, naturally, don't let him run around loose outside – not that you would do that anyway. I'll send some soft chewable multivitamins home for him, too."

  He paused a few moments, looking at the floor, then sighed and looked up at Kathy. "I realize I probably don't have to tell you this – but I will. He is an old dog. Those big Shepard's – even though he is obviously a mix – they don't live to a ripe old age. You know that. And he's been through a hell of a thing. First losing his owner. Starving. Being shot. Starving some more. Dehydration. There could be internal damage we don't know anything about yet. Renal failure, liver failure. But maybe we'll get lucky. Maybe he'll get a few more good years. After all," Dr. Cordero grinned, "He's a witness to a crime. Might need him to testify. I'll do what I can for him. I know you'll take good care of him, too."

  Kathy nodded, her lips firm. She would do her best for the old dog. He deserved better.

  "Oh. I need a name for his records."

  Kathy didn't even have to think. "His name is Hero."

  Dr. Cordero grinned. "And for now, I'm going to put you down as his owner. The City Council down there might balk at the bills."

  "That's fine." Kathy agreed. "Right now I don't think they've figured out who is responsible for him, so for now I'll pay them myself. May as well. I have a feeling he is pretty much my husband's dog at this point." She laughed.

  The Best Place To Eat Lunch In Columbus, NM

  Depends on who you are.

  In the small town of Columbus, New Mexico there are all of two restaurants and they are across the street from each other. There's a taco truck, too, of course and those in the know say it is the source of the best food in town. Of course, rumor has it that the meat in those tacos may or may not be something other than beef. Some would say road kill. Kathy might raise an eyebrow and mention that she is very seldom called out for stray or feral cats.