Say That Again (6 page)

I jumped — and hit the floor sliding. My front legs flew out before me, while my back legs spun sideways. I fell with a thunk on my side, the wind expelling from my lungs.

Momentarily dazed, I struggled upright. A cool breeze from outdoors blew in my face. I sniffed freedom. In this case, it smelled like leaked engine oil and asphalt. Nails curled, I tried to dig into the floor to vault forward, but it was even slicker than the countertop. I couldn’t make my legs do what I wanted.

Whether she was unaware of me or ignoring me, I don’t know, but the mother continued on out the door, yanking the little boy behind her as he watched me. The door began to drift shut.

Defeated, I relaxed, letting the pads of my paws come in contact with the floor. As they did, I sensed better traction. I staggered forward a step, then two. Delores was still asleep. The door was still open a crack. I scurried forth, sticking my nose out to wedge the door farther open.

Wham!

Evelyn palmed the door shut. Just as I looked up at her, she looped a leash around my neck, winking. “Almost lost you, little guy. Great big world out there. You don’t want to be all on your own, do you?”

I strained toward the door to let her know that was precisely what I wanted.

“Awww, are you scared?” Her voice was gravelly and deep for a woman’s. She reeled me in. “Poor wittle fing.”

I took offense to her condescending tone. Was I supposed to like this place? Why would I want to stay somewhere that smelled
this
bad? And who was she that I should trust her? For all I knew she had a forked tail hidden under that tent-like sweatshirt and a pair of horns concealed beneath that forest of spiky hair.

“Hey, Delores, wake up.” Evelyn nudged the old woman.

A snort ripped from Delores’s throat. Startled, she sat up and wiped a string of drool from her chin. It took a few moments for her to come to her senses.

“I’m going to take him in back now, all right, Delores?”

Delores flapped a hand at Evelyn, stood slowly, and shuffled to the door, stumbling slightly on the welcome mat. She went outside without one look back.

Suddenly, I felt the loop around my neck tighten and my whole body sliding across the floor.

“Come on now, little guy. I’ve got just the place for you.”

After I hit the small rug in the hallway and it bunched up under me, she scooped me up, squishing me to her ample chest. It was softer than Delores’s chest, at least. But her shirt reeked of cigarettes.

She walked past a metal door. From the crack beneath it, barks and yips rang out. Then we went past a room filled with stacks of metal cages. I caught a glimpse of a cat staring out through the wire grid of one of the cage doors, disdain plain on her patched orange and black face. She yawned, as if bored, then stretched, turning her head as she watched us go by.

We had bypassed the place where the big dogs were kept, the room where the cats were crammed. What could be left?

With a grunt, Evelyn pushed open the door at the end of the hall. It was brightly lit and quiet. A private room, perhaps? Sweet solace. The only thing better would be for her to plunk a bowl of food in front of me.

She lowered me to the other side of a low cinder block wall. That was when ‘they’ woke up. Puppies. A dozen of them.

No. Just ... no.

My feet were barely on the floor when they exploded from their sleeping pile and attacked, licking and yapping, running in mindless circles. One of them peed right next to me, then proceeded to pounce on my ribs, knocking the air from my lungs. Gulping in a breath, I crawled on my belly toward the wall. Three or four more pooped in random places; moments later other puppies raced through the mess.

I watched in horror, shocked at their disregard for cleanliness. From behind, someone sank their teeth into my back. I yelped in pain, but they only bit harder. So I whipped around, my teeth gnashing.

“Hey!” Evelyn grabbed me by the scruff, pulling me away. “Don’t start anything. Got it?”

I leered at her. What had
I
started? Was I not supposed to defend myself? Should I just let these heathens maul me?

But now she was getting a dose of it. Two pups had latched onto her shoelaces, while a third bit at her pants leg. She grabbed a metal scooper and banged it on the ground. They scattered. She shoveled up their piles of poop, mopped up several puddles, then spritzed it all with some foul-smelling liquid from a plastic bottle. No wonder they all kept pooping in new places. Who would want to go anywhere near where she had sprayed that toxic stuff?

Next, she brought out several bowls of kibble and placed them around the floor. Chaos reigned momentarily as everyone fought for a spot, but very soon each puppy had a place. Even I found a bowl where only two puppies were inhaling their meal, their long tails swinging happily back and forth. Suddenly, I was very conscious of the fact that I had only a nub, but more than embarrassed, I was hungry. And so I ate. Until my belly nearly burst.

When they were each done, some of the puppies waddled off, yawning. Others played again, but more lazily, as if resisting the pull of sleep. This was a routine they knew well, which made me wonder how long they had all been here and if any ever left.

When Evelyn finally went, I showed my teeth freely. For the most part, they left me alone, but occasionally one forgot my warnings and tested me again. One by one, they wandered off, leaving me in blessed solitude.

From the nearest corner, another pup studied me. She was brown with black streaks, a whip-like tail, and sleek fur. Her muzzle was narrow, her ears folded close to her head. There was nothing aggressive or idiotic in her mannerisms. A little taller at the shoulder than me but lighter in body, she was graceful in her movements, with kind eyes and elegant long legs.

Unassumingly, she drifted closer, walking a few steps, sitting for a while, passing glances at me, yet looking away the moment our eyes caught. When another pup ran up to her, she averted her gaze, ignoring his playful bow.

We understood each other, this pup and I. Kindred spirits. Old souls reunited from some former life. Or so I would have thought if I believed such things. But I saw in her eyes an intelligence that was lacking in the others. And a certain regality, a gentle aloofness. Like that of a cat.

It was then that I decided, for the first time in my life, that I would make a friend.

I ventured closer and closer. We held gazes longer. Eventually, we sat nose to nose. The room was once again quiet. All the others were sleeping soundly. She lowered her head, turned her muzzle sideways, and licked my chin soothingly, but only enough to declare that she submitted to me, even though I had not demanded it of her. To let her know we were on equal terms, I did likewise. Soon, we were curled next to one another, her head resting across my withers.

Gradually, we drifted off to sleep, content in our newfound companionship.

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—o00o—

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T
he door latch clicked open. A man ambled in. He peered down at us through thick framed glasses, his glance moving observantly from pile to pile.

Evelyn appeared behind him as the pups raised their heads, yawning and stretching. “You said you don’t have any other pets right now?”

“A fish tank, but that’s it. A school of tetras, a few angelfish. They’re pretty, but more work than company.”

“What did you say you’re looking for again, Mr. Beekman?”

He pushed his glasses higher up onto his nose. “Something calm and quiet, I suppose. I don’t need something that’s going to run wild and knock me over, you know? I just want something that will sit next to me while I read in my recliner. Something that won’t need to walk miles and miles every day. One lap around the block is enough when the weather’s fair. Most of the time it can just do its business in the backyard. I live alone, so it would be nice to have a dog to talk to and take care of.”

Evelyn crossed her arms. “Would you like to look at the cats? We have several that —”

“Good heavens, no.” Mr. Beekman sucked his chin back, as if the notion was preposterous. “I’m a dog person, through and through. I want a pet that will care whether I come or go and bark when someone comes to the door.” His gaze swept from pup to pup as they began to scamper curiously toward him. He bent over the low wall and held his hand out. A fat yellow puppy nipped at his fingers and he pulled his hand back.

“Is there one here you’d recommend? I might even consider an adult. Something more settled. I’m a nurse at Fox Hollow and I was thinking of taking my dog to work with me. The residents always enjoy it when family members bring pets in. I thought it might be good for them to have one that visited more regularly.”

“Hmm, maybe an older puppy, then.” She scrunched her mouth up. Then her eyes lit. “You’d like Tinker!”

He scratched at his head. “Which one’s Tinker?”

“That one.” She pointed toward me.

I sat up. My name wasn’t Tinker, but if he wanted to call me that, I just might answer to it. It would take some getting used to and was a bit feminine, if I might say, but I could adjust. If he took me, I would have a home, a place all to myself. He’d said he didn’t have any other dogs and didn’t want a cat. I could be an ‘only’. It’d be just me and him. No one else. Maybe he lived out in the country, far from the road with a big, big yard? Yes, that would be better than running loose, cold and alone, never knowing when I would eat next. I could answer to ‘Tinker’. I took a step forward.

But then I remembered my new friend. I didn’t want to leave her. So I turned around and settled back down next to her. Opening her eyes, she looked up at the man.

He looked down at her adoringly. “That’s Tinker? The brindle one?”

“Yes,” Evelyn cooed, “it is.”

Like that, my hope was snuffed out.

He reached down to pick her up and brought her to his chest. She folded in his arms like an infant being cradled. He rocked her gently as her tongue flicked out to tickle his chin. “I don’t know. She’s almost cat-like, don’t you think?”

“I can see where you’d say that. Aaron said the same thing the day her owner brought her in. It was an elderly woman who was scheduled for surgery that required a long recovery and didn’t have anyone to care for her. Sad situation. Not the dog’s fault she’s here at the shelter.”

“I imagine it seldom is.” He looked at me for the briefest of moments. “Shame I can’t take the whole lot of them. They all deserve a good home, I’m sure.”

If there was even a chance he might take us both ...

My ears perked. I trotted over to him and stood on my hind legs, lifting a paw to scratch at the short wall to get his attention. But he had already turned away and the other puppies were clawing at me, pulling me down.

I caught one final glance of Tinker’s doleful eyes before I was buried under a tangle of legs.

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S
evere primary accidental hypothermia. A fancy way of saying that the iciness of the river had been what saved Hannah from the quicker death of drowning. Hunter wasn’t so sure it had been a mercy. There were risks, complications. The prognosis was not promising.

Technically speaking, hypothermia was termed ‘severe’ and considered life-threatening when the core body temperature dropped below eighty-two degrees Fahrenheit. At that stage, the chances of cardiac arrest increased dramatically. At its lowest, Hannah’s body temperature had been sixty-eight. She had been submerged for more than forty minutes. Forty minutes of her lungs not drawing air, her heart not beating. How was it even possible that she could survive?

As a veterinarian, the only victims of drowning that Hunter had ever seen had not survived. Still, he understood the medical complexities of it all. When Hannah’s lungs could not draw air and her body temperature plummeted, her metabolism slowed to a rate just sufficient enough to keep her alive and keep her internal organs — heart, liver, lungs, and brain — from shutting down entirely.

Even if they could get Hannah’s heart going again and get her breathing on her own, the real danger lay in the damage already potentially done to her brain. Brain cells deprived of oxygen, especially for as long a time as Hannah had been underwater, can suffer irreversible harm.

“The possibility of brain damage is very real,” Dr. Townsley had told them.

“How real?” Hunter had said pointedly. “Ten per cent, fifty ... ninety?”

“I can’t really say. Each case is unique. Young children’s bodies are surprisingly resilient. But to be honest, I’d be surprised if she didn’t suffer some detrimental effects, given the length of time she was without oxygen. That could be anything from a slightly delayed recovery to permanent brain damage.”

“You mean ...” Jenn said hoarsely, “she could be a vegetable?”

“It’s possible.”

When neither Hunter nor Jenn said anything more, Dr. Townsley added, “If you want us to discontinue resuscitation efforts, we will.”

“No, don’t stop,” Jenn pleaded. “Whatever you do, don’t stop.”

Hunter took it all in as if from a distance. He wondered if Hannah could hear those around her — or if her soul had already departed and they were only putting off the inevitable. Again, his hand drifted to his chest. He had died before — and survived.

By all accounts, Hannah
should
have been dead, well beyond the point of return. When they pulled her small, limp body from the river, Hunter thought for sure she was. She had looked like the remains of a water nymph, hauntingly beautiful in a morose way — her wet hair hanging lank, her skin translucent, her lips an icy blue. That had been late morning. It was now approaching evening.

Hunter’s mother, Lise, and his stepfather, Brad Dunphy, had come to the hospital and taken Maura home with them hours ago. Jenn had been beside herself with worry, pacing the corridor outside Intensive Care, stopping at the end to stare through the glass window of the door through which Dr. Townsley would occasionally appear to give them updates. Two hours had passed since the last report. Not knowing how she was doing was more unbearable than the first unpromising reports.