The Patron Saint of Lost Dogs: A Novel
Page 28
Suddenly the long arm of the law reaches out and grabs me.
“Okay, you’re old Doc Cobb’s son,” says Chief Devito, “but I’m still having a hell of a time placing you.”
I’m only half listening because to the side and behind him, a group of individuals have most of my attention. There’s Brendon Small, an unspoken thank-you written across his face. There’s Anne Small, her eyes puffy and bloodshot, beginning to cry again, and between them and headed my way, Emily and her dog, Frieda.
I see a grinning golden retriever that made me think twice. I see a family getting a second chance. And, as I glance back at Devito, I see an opportunity I simply cannot resist. “Hey, Chief, ‘say hello to my little friend!’ ”
Then I spot Ethel Silverman and Kai, letting everyone around her know that I give away free dog food. There’s Crystal Haggerty and Puck, honing in on a frightened young man with a chocolate Lab puppy cradled in his arms, and though Crystal is clearly on the prowl, I overhear her mentioning that I have a gift when it comes to their particular breed of dog.
My graduation certificate heads our way and Lewis makes a grab for it
“What are you going to do with this, now everyone’s seen it?”
He passes it to me, and the name Cobb jumps out at me, but this time in a good way. “I’m going to hang it up in the exam room. Same with the photographs from the basement. I just wish … stupid … changing my name … it feels so … embarrassing, so overly dramatic and immature.”
Lewis waves the notion away. “It’s no different from Harry Carp calling every dog he’s ever had Clint. It’s a name. Who cares if you’re Cobb or Mills? All that matters is the person behind the name. All that matters is you’re here.”
This shouldn’t feel like forgiveness but it does, and I’m grateful.
“But,” he adds, “you need to sort out this problem with your license.”
“I know. And I’m going to. As soon as I find another way to pay my legal fees, now that I’m not selling this place.”
Lewis cracks another smile, reaches into his jacket pocket, and, for the second time this evening, hands me a check. “Here. Do you think this will cover it?”
The word surprise does not do justice to my comprehension of the dollar amount scribbled in the little box and the signature of the person cutting the check—Ginny Weidmeyer. I turn in her direction, but she’s got her back to me, still talking to Mr. Critchley.
“I can’t take this. It’s a ridiculous amount.”
“Of course it is and of course you can,” says Lewis. “Ginny insists it’s not a gift and it’s not a loan. It’s simply a prepayment on veterinary services she will require for her cat, Chelsea. Don’t look so worried. She’s going to make you work for every penny.”
A week ago I would have been appalled by such a proposal. Now I’m prepared to do whatever it takes to keep Bedside Manor alive. Now I don’t deliberate. I grab Lewis by the hand, not to shake it, but to pull him into me for a hug. And you know what, I don’t feel the least bit awkward as I think about how this moment would have felt with my father, think about the name DR. CYRUS COBB, DVM, chiseled into my mother’s tombstone.
I pull away and say, “If you can look after this place for a few days I’ll head down to Charleston tomorrow. Get it all sorted out.”
“Be my pleasure,” says Lewis, “but, first things first.” And with this he takes a step back and addresses the room. “Ladies and gentlemen. Dr. Mills and I would like to start.”
And that’s when my life starts over, when I know I’ve made the right choice, when this real veterinarian turns to his clientele and asks, “Who’s first?”
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
First of all, any implication that veterinary pathologists are not real veterinarians is, like the rest of this book, totally fictitious. The author apologizes for any misleading or erroneous content, medical or otherwise, but this material is intended to entertain, not provide guidance to pet owners who seek answers to animal health issues.
I must thank Deb Waterman and Ellie Millard for being kind enough to read early drafts and Kiki Koroshetz, Allyson Rudolph, and Diane Aronson for their many insightful comments on everything that followed. To all the fabulous folks at Hyperion: Ellen Archer, Elisabeth Dyssegaard, Kristin Kiser, Christine Ragasa, Kathryn Hough, Bryan Christian, and Jon Bernstein, a heartfelt thanks for your vision, enthusiasm, and dedication to this project. Your collective buzz and passion for our book makes this writer feel very much at home.
Christine Pride, my editor, always believed I could make the difficult transition from nonfiction to fiction. Somehow she has shaped and transformed my writing into something that I am proud to call a novel. I continue to be blessed to have her on my side.
Jeff Kleinman, my agent, has been nothing less than amazing to work with. By turns he’s the architect, the drill sergeant, and the magician who made the impossible possible. Cheers, Jeff. Here’s to many more books together.
A big thank-you to my daughters, Emily and Whitney, and my wife, Kathy. I know I am a lucky man. Their love and support never wavers, even when I bring my laptop to the beach.
Finally, I must pay homage to our dogs, Sophie and Meg. Though I learned that Labradors eat first and ask questions later, only a fool underestimates the intelligence of a terrier; their best lesson was teaching me how these devoted creatures complete a family. You’re still with us on every walk.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Nick Trout graduated from veterinary school at the University of Cambridge in 1989. He is a staff surgeon at the prestigious Angell Animal Medical Center in Boston; the author of three books, the New York Times bestseller Tell Me Where It Hurts, Love Is the Best Medicine, and Ever By My Side; and he is a contributing columnist for The Bark magazine. He lives in Massachusetts with his wife, Kathy, and their adopted Labradoodle, Thai.
Photo by: Deborah Feingold
OTHER WORKS
ALSO BY NICK TROUT
Tell Me Where It Hurts
Love Is the Best Medicine
Ever By My Side
COPYRIGHT
Copyright © 2013 Nick Trout
All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the publisher. For information address Hyperion, 1500 Broadway, New York, New York 10036.
The Library of Congress has catalogued the original print edition of this book as follows:
Trout, Nick.
The patron saint of lost dogs : a novel /Dr. Nick Trout. — 1st ed.
p. cm.
ISBN 978-1-4013-1088-2
1. Veterinarians—Fiction.
2. Human- animal relationships—Fiction.
I. Title.
PS3620.R684P38 2013
813'.6—dc23
2012034294
ISBN: 978-1-4013-1088-2
eBook Edition ISBN: 978-1-4013-0497-3
Cover design by Georgia Morrissey
Cover photo by Corbis
First eBook Edition
Original trade paper edition printed in the United States of America.
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