Alpha Dog (25 page)

“But if I hadn’t called to him, he wouldn’t have gotten hit!” I choked out. It actually hurt me physically to admit it aloud. My shoulders shuddered and something sharp was hacking at my heart. Instinctively, I crossed my arms over my chest and doubled over, sobbing.

For who knows how long, I sat there, folded over like a pill bug and crying. Images of Seamus whirled past my closed eyes. Seamus in his cage at the pound; Seamus wet and muddy at the park; Seamus gazing at me fondly with his round, root beer–colored eyes. It just wasn’t fair. Seamus and I had come so far. He was truly the best thing that ever happened to me; and now he was being taken away.

“It’s not your fault,” Matt kept murmuring as he bent down next to me.

I didn’t believe him, but his soft tone and supportive hold did manage to calm me down—or maybe I just ran out of power. Eventually my sobs dwindled into sniffles and I sat there like a deflated ball.

After a while I heard Matt say, “Here comes the vet.”

I sat up quickly, my head pounding from the sudden change in elevation. Through the glass partition, I could see Dr. Skyler walking down the corridor toward the lobby. I tried to read her expression, but she just looked really tired.

We stood up to meet her as she pushed through the glass door.

“Well, he’s out of surgery,” she said, looking right at me.

“Is he awake?” I asked.

“Not yet.”

“Will he—” I stopped myself. I just couldn’t say it.
Will he ever wake up?

Dr. Skyler tilted her head sympathetically. “We don’t know what will happen. We managed to stop the internal bleeding, but he’s pretty banged up. At this point we just have to wait and see.”

“Can I see him?”

She sighed heavily. I could tell she was about to say no.

“Please,” I added quickly. “He’s my dog. I just want to see him, that’s all.”

“Okay,” she replied, giving me a sad smile. “But prepare yourself. He’s still under the anesthesia, and he looks pretty bad.”

She led us back down the corridor and into a white room with a big stainless steel table in the center. Seamus lay in the middle of it, crumpled and lifeless. His legs flopped aimlessly at his sides, his fur was matted and his eyes were shut and puffy. Heavy gauze bandages covered his stomach, and a clear plastic tube ran from an IV pole into his left foreleg. I couldn’t fully believe it was Seamus. Instead, the little figure seemed more like a Seamus-looking stuffed animal someone had pulled out of a Dumpster.

A strange choking sound gurgled up out of me and I instinctively reached toward him.

“I’m sorry, but you can’t touch him,” Dr. Skyler said.

I nodded weakly, my throat too constricted for speech.

“It’s almost two. Why don’t you two go home and rest?” she said, motioning toward the door behind us. “We probably have a long wait ahead of us.”

“No,” I croaked, shaking my head. “I want to stay.”

Matt grasped my shoulders and gently turned me to face him. “Katie, you’re exhausted. You can’t help him by wearing yourself out like this.”

“But what if he needs me? What if he wakes up and gets scared? Or what if he . . . what if . . .”

“I promise I’ll call you if there’s any change,” Dr. Skyler cut in, her voice low and compassionate.

I broke my stare off Seamus and looked at her. “Promise you’ll call no matter what? Even if it’s ten minutes after we leave?”

She gave me a small smile. “I promise.”

“Thanks, Dr. Skyler,” Matt said, shaking her hand. “Thanks for everything.”

“You’re welcome.” She turned to me. “Please come back after you’ve gotten some rest. Okay?”

“Okay. Thanks.”

As we headed out the door, I looked back over my shoulder at Seamus. It felt wrong to leave him there. It was like taking him back to the shelter. His life was on the line, but this time there was nothing I could do to help him.

Don’t leave me, buddy,
I urged silently
.
Hang in
there. Please!

14

I
barely remember Matt walking me up the staircase to our landing. Only it didn’t feel like our landing. The eggshell-colored paneling and Berber carpeting looked only vaguely familiar. It was as if, instead of coming home, I’d entered a strange building and was experiencing a really strong sense of déjà vu.

“You all right?” Matt asked, still gripping me tightly as if he were afraid I might float up to the fluorescents if he let go.

“Yeah,” I replied croakily. And I was.
I
was just fine. It was my poor dog who was a mess. While I stood in front of my door pondering a scuff mark on the tips of my sandals, Seamus was lying unconscious and bandaged, with tubes threaded into his veins. I didn’t deserve any concern at all compared to him.

“Get some sleep, okay?” Matt said as he let go of me. I hadn’t thought I was leaning on him all that much, but as soon as his hands left, I felt weak and floppy. I quickly grabbed the doorknob and unlocked it.

Matt was peering into my eyes as if he could somehow see past them. It occurred to me that he wasn’t saying “Don’t worry” or “It will be all right” anymore, and for that, I was grateful. He’d been so amazing to me and Seamus, but right now I just needed to be alone. To slip off into my limbo and ignore everything in the world for a while.

“Good night,” I mumbled.

“Good night.”

His image slowly disappeared as I shut the door and locked it.

The condo was dim and silent. I still felt eerily detached from myself—a walking ghost. There was a note from Christine and Robot on the console table. I didn’t read it, but I did notice the word
sorry
had been written in all caps and underlined four or five times. Seamus’s training collar lay beside it.

I picked it up and twisted it around in my hands, studying it as if it were some valuable ancient relic. So many memories associated with that thing, both good and bad. A squeezing pain shot through me, but I didn’t cry. I couldn’t anymore. Except for the dense pressure in my chest, I was completely numb.

Setting the collar carefully on the table, I tiptoed to my room. The first thing I saw when I switched on the light was Seamus’s cartoon face staring down at me from the drawing on the wall. I felt another wrenching sensation in my gut and immediately turned out the light and crawled into bed, fully dressed. Only I couldn’t sleep. I was so thoroughly depleted, my body felt as if it had been trampled, but every time I shut my eyes I would hear the sound of screeching brakes and see Seamus sprawled against the crushed gravel. I missed him, too. It seemed too quiet without his snoring or the familiar tinkle of his tags as he shifted in his sleep.

I took a deep breath and rolled onto my side. In the faint light of the streetlamp outside my window, I could make out a face in front of me—one with big brown eyes and a black button nose.

Seamus?

No. It was my Scooby-Doo alarm clock. Its frozen, goofball expression seemed to be taunting me. Suddenly it was like coming out of heavy anesthesia. It began with a prickle of irritation, and then a surge of anger broke through my deadened emotional state, charging me up again. I jumped out of bed, lifted my window, and pushed open the screen. Grabbing the Scooby clock in my right hand, I reached back and hurled it as far as I could. I didn’t see where he landed, but I heard a muffled crash and a few pinging sounds.

For a moment, I just stood there, listening to the crickets and the hum of faraway traffic. Then I lay back down and closed my eyes.

The next thing I knew, the apricot light of morning was streaming through the window. I struggled to my elbows and my head immediately began to throb. My insides felt shriveled, and there was a crick in the left side of my neck. Instinctively, I glanced over at the Scooby clock . . . but it wasn’t there.

“Oh, no,” I mumbled. Although it was wonderful not having to wake up to the blaring alarm, I had no idea how late I slept. What if I’d missed a call from Dr. Skyler?

Ignoring the pulsating pain in my temples, I leaped out of bed and rushed into the living room.

“Oh my God! Katie! I didn’t even know you were here!”

Christine was standing in the living room talking to Mrs. Krantz. She stared me up and down, her features creased in an expression of half horror and half pity. I imagined I did look like a disaster survivor. My clothes from the day before were hanging off me all lopsided and rumpled, and I could tell by my constricted vision that my face was bloated up like a jellyfish.

“Where’s Seamus?” she asked tentatively.

“He’s in the animal hospital, recovering from surgery,” I heard myself say in a dull, flat voice.

“Is he . . . going to be okay?”

“We don’t know yet.”

“Katie, dear! You poor, poor thing!” Mrs. Krantz trotted over and pulled me into a frantic embrace. The pungent smell of hairspray and floral perfume threatened to make my already aching head shut down completely. “Oh, poor Mrs. B will be so upset!”

She pulled back but kept a firm grip on my arms, her many rings pressing into my flesh. I was touched to see a tear roll down her heavily powdered face. “Please let me know if I can do anything to help you,” she went on. “You do know how much Seamus means to me and Mrs. B, don’t you?”

“Yeah,” I mumbled. Actually I
hadn’t
known. She was sweet to be so concerned, but she was freaking me out a little bit too. I expected her to let go, but for some reason she just kept holding on to my arms and gazing at me sympathetically. Her fingers were digging into my skin like jeweled barnacles, and her magnified eyes were like giant watery bull’s-eyes. In my post-traumatic, newly awakened veg state, I was finding it hard to deal.

Thank God for Christine. Somehow sensing my trouble, she stepped forward and draped an arm around Mrs. Krantz, giving her consoling little pats while simultaneously steering her toward the door. “Thanks for stopping by, Mrs. Krantz,” she said, opening the door. “We’ll let you know as soon as we have any answers.”

“Please do,” Mrs. Krantz said. She produced a lacy handkerchief from the pocket of her skirt and dabbed her nose with it. “I just know Mrs. B won’t sleep a wink today!”

We waited until she’d toddled off to her apartment before shutting the door.

“God, Katie,” Christine said, shooting me a less close-up version of Mrs. Krantz’s mournful look. “Are you okay? Don’t take this the wrong way or anything, but you look like death.”

I winced slightly, and Christine’s eyes widened.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to say—”

“It’s okay.” I trudged over to the answering machine. “Did anyone call?”

“There’s a couple of messages for you. From last night.”

“Really?” My heart started thumping frantically, echoing inside my ears. I pushed the Play button and held my breath.

“Katie, this is Mother. Call me when you get in.
BEEP! . . . Katie, it’s Mom again. Where are you? I hope
you don’t make a habit of staying out late. How can you
concentrate on your studies if you’re sleep-deprived? Call
me. BEEP! . . . Katie? Are you still out? This is ridiculous. I’m going to bed. Call me first thing in the morning.
BEEP!”

I hit the shut-off switch and gripped my pounding temples.

“You going to call her?” Christine asked.

I shook my head feebly. “No.” I was barely holding it together as it was. A lecture from Mom could make me lose all structural integrity.

So Dr. Skyler hadn’t called. What did that mean? Was Seamus still unconscious? Was she still working on him? Or . . . did the worst happen, but she hadn’t had time to let me know?

Christine was still watching me cautiously. “Um . . . do you want something to eat?”

“No.”

“Coffee?”

“No, thanks.”

“Damn, this sucks! I’m
so
sorry, Katie! This whole thing is all my fault!” She trudged over to the couch and flopped down on the cushions, hugging one of her surviving stuffed wiener dogs to her chest. “I should have held on to him. I should have grabbed him before he got away.”

Her voice was weak and tinny with emotion. I’d never seen Christine look so vulnerable before. Suddenly everything and everyone around me seemed surreal, and I wondered if I could still be asleep.

“It’s not your fault,” I said. I walked over to the couch and patted her shoulder awkwardly. “You did everything you could. He was just too freaked.”

Christine snorted derisively. “Yeah, because of my boyfriend. It’s Robot’s fault too. He’s such a little kid sometimes. I got so mad at him last night, I sent him back to San Antonio.”

“Really? You didn’t break up with him, did you?”

She stared down into her lap. “I don’t know.”

I plopped down beside her. “But it’s not Robot’s fault either. If anyone’s to blame, it’s me.” My throat tightened and my face started twitching. “I called to him. I was just so happy to see him that I wasn’t paying attention. I didn’t see the car backing up.” My voice broke and the familiar kick-in-the-chest pain came back. I’d thought I couldn’t cry anymore, but my ducts were once again manufacturing big, hot tears.

Christine gasped. “Oh, no. Katie, don’t even think like that. It was just an accident.”

I shook my head, loosening the tears, which began streaming down my puffy cheeks. Matt had said the same thing the night before. But those guys just didn’t understand. “I let him down,” I explained hoarsely. “He was my responsibility—
is
my responsibility. I should have protected him.” I slumped back against the cushions, hugging my knees to my chest.

She bumped me with her shoulder. “Stop that. Listen to me. You saved that dog’s life! If it hadn’t been for you, he would have never had a chance! And you not only took him in, you turned him into a whole new dog. A great dog!”

I stared at her blurry image. She was right about that; he really had turned out great. He’d come so far in such a short time. That was another reason this whole situation seemed incredibly unfair.

“And there’s something I should confess to you,” Christine went on, tugging the bottom of her black tank top. “You really made me see what it means to own a dog. All that hard work and perseverance. I’d wanted a wiener dog for so long, but watching you, I realized I wasn’t ready. I’ve gotten two e-mails about dachshunds up for adoption, but I haven’t replied. I know I could never be as good as you.”

“Of course you could do it!” I countered. “You’d be great.”

“Maybe someday. But not now,” she said with a shrug. “So . . . do you want a ride to the animal hospital?”

“Yeah. Thanks,” I said. As she started to stand up, I put my hand on her arm. “You know, you’re a really good friend, Christine.” It was a cornball thing to say, but I meant it. I’d been through so much with her these past few weeks that I truly trusted her. Probably even more than my friends back home.

I expected her to make some flip comment about how snorting Mrs. Krantz’s perfume must have gotten me stoned. Instead her eyes got all murky-looking and she ducked her head sort of shyly. “Thanks,” she said in a barely audible voice. “So are you.”

“Thanks.” I smiled weakly.

“Um, Katie?” she added as she studied her chipped purple fingernails. “I just want to say, I know I threatened it, but I want you to know I would have never ratted you out to your mom.”

“I know. It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not. I can be a real bitch sometimes and, I don’t know, maybe I was jealous that your mom is actually interested in how you are—unlike my mom. I just . . . miss her sometimes.” Her eyes widened. “Wow. I’ve never said that aloud before. Not even to Robot.”

I grinned at her and bumped her with my shoulder. “Maybe you should. He really seems to care a lot about you.”

A knock at the door made us both jump slightly. My hand flew up to my aching head.

“I’ll get it,” Christine said, leaping up from the couch. I heard her fumble with the latch and the pop of the door leaving its frame. Then her voice cried, “Hi, Matt!”

I jumped to my feet—a movement that seemed to dislocate my frontal lobes. “Hey,” I said, gripping my forehead. I rounded the couch as he stepped inside. His sleepy eyes looked even sleepier than usual, and his wavy hair lay flat against his skull. I felt a spasm of guilt at having put him through such a rough night.