“SHE’S VOMITING AND won’t get up to come get in the truck, and I can’t pick her up because she’s way too heavy, and nothing I do seems to help, and Max just keeps whining and nudging her with his nose and then running over to me to get me to do something, but there’s nothing I can do and I don’t know how to make him understand. I tried calling Grady for help, but he’s dealing with another sick dog already and he didn’t answer, and I swear, I was keeping a close eye on them, I really was, and—”
“Slow down,” Riley said into the phone. “You’ve got to stay calm. Panicking won’t help anything. It’ll just freak the dogs out, which is the last thing you need right now, all right?”
“I’m trying.” God, was I ever trying. But Riley had barely been gone for a couple of days, and I’d already screwed everything up. If his dog died on my watch, he’d never forgive me.
Heck, I’d never forgive myself.
This couldn’t be happening. But it was.
“Take a breath for me, okay?”
Take a breath. Yeah. I could do that. I pinched my eyes closed and filled my lungs, but a fresh wave of tears spilled out on the exhalation.
“Better?” Riley asked.
Not even a tiny bit, but I said, “A little,” just to appease him, but then a massive sob tore through me and ruined the effect of my bravado.
He sighed.
“I’m sorry,” I forced out. “I’m trying. I really am.”
“I know you are.”
I bit down hard on my lower lip, hoping that would do the trick. It seemed to shock my system enough that I could get a grip, at least for a moment. “I’m better.”
“Okay. So Lola’s vomiting? Is she vomiting a lot or was it just once? Because sometimes she eats too fast and then it all comes back up, but she’s really fine. If it’s all solid-looking pieces, that’s probably all it is.”
“She’s not fine. This was a lot. Three times in the backyard at least, when I took them out a bit ago, and once more in the kitchen. The last time it was almost all liquid, nothing solid at all. Kind of brownish-tannish looking. And it’s been hours since I fed them, anyway. If it was because she ate too fast, wouldn’t that have happened right away?”
“Yeah, it would’ve been pretty soon after you fed them. All right. Is she getting much up with it or just hacking and trying to puke?”
“I don’t—I’m not…” I was panicking again, which stole my ability to think, my ability to form coherent words and put them into sentences that made any sense at all. I had to calm down. Riley was depending on me, and so were Max and Lola. What a fiasco. “No, not that much, really,” I finally said. “It’s mostly liquid.”
It might seem like a lot for a human, but Lola wasn’t a human. She was a lot bigger than me, so I had to keep it all in perspective.
When I’d been sick yesterday, it’d seemed like everything I’d eaten for the last week had come out. But this was primarily just bile. There wasn’t anything solid to it.
“She’s mainly just choking at something now,” I said, “like she’s trying to get something up but it’s stuck. Oh God. Could she have caught this stomach bug from me? Did I make her sick? Riley, please tell me she’s not sick because of me.”
Even as I said the words, she let out another barking choke that churned my insides, but nothing came up from either of us, thank goodness. If I wasn’t careful, I might toss my cookies again, too. Especially if she puked on me.
Clearly, I was not cut out to be a dog owner. Not if I couldn’t handle one of them being sick.
And what would I do if we ever had kids and one of them got sick? Would I be any better at being a mom with a vomiting child? Probably not, now that I thought about it. Good thing I’d never wanted to become a nurse. This wasn’t something I could handle on a day-to-day basis.
“That didn’t sound very good,” Riley said, dragging me back to the moment at hand.
“It sounded worse earlier. When something actually came up.”
“I believe it,” he said. “But I need you to understand something. She’s not sick because of you. Promise. Most diseases don’t pass from species to species like that.”
“You’re sure?” I asked in a pleading tone, as if he could make it true whether it was or not.
“Positive.”
Even if Riley was only telling me whatever he thought would make me feel better and get me to calm down, it was having the desired effect. Gradually, my anxiety started to ease up until finally I could breathe again.
Lola was lying on the couch beside me, her head draped across my lap. The moment that she’d rested her head on me was when I’d known, without a doubt, that something was really, truly, horribly wrong. Because Lola didn’t cuddle with me.
Max did, but never Lola.
She was Riley’s dog through and through, always choosing to sleep by his side and curl up with him at every possible opportunity. She allowed me to pet her and to walk her, but that was about the extent of our relationship.
I was a poor substitute for her daddy, if you could even call me that. Definitely not mommy material.
The best that could typically be said was that she didn’t try to kill me. The first night Riley had been gone, she’d slept on his side of the bed, never venturing close enough to touch me. The second night hadn’t been much different. The fact that she was curled up against me and pitifully shoving her head into my hands so I’d pet her was all it took to let me know just how miserable she felt.
This was way worse than whatever bug I’d been dealing with the last couple of days.
“Okay,” Riley said. “So let’s come up with a plan.
“Okay?”
His voice had a soothing effect on me, and the less tension there was racing through my body, the calmer the dogs seemed to be. Which meant I had to figure out a way to stay calm through all of this, no matter what happened. If I lost it, they would, too, and an out-of-control dog was the last thing I needed. Two out-of-control dogs would be well beyond my ability to handle, particularly when they were this big.
“Have you called my veterinarian?” he asked.
I nodded before remembering he couldn’t see me. “I did. But they need me to bring Lola in to their office, which I can’t do.” Then I reiterated the fact that Grady wasn’t answering his phone. Which was horrible timing, really. Not that I could blame him for having other clients who needed his help, but still.
“Right.” Riley’s voice sounded strained. Chances were high that he was still coming up with our plan on the fly. “Fuck.”
He could say that one again.
“What about Anne?” I asked. Not that I thought Anne and I combined would be able to get this dog into the SUV. Lola was enormous, and neither of us were very big or strong.
“Anne’s a good thought,” Riley said.
“She’s a start, at least.”
“Anne can help,” I heard someone else say in the background. It sounded like Nate.
“Can you call her?” Riley asked.
“Already on it.”
More voices joined the mix in the background, until I couldn’t make anything out.
“What’s going on?” I asked, because I wasn’t sure if Riley was still with me or if he’d dropped the phone to talk to someone.
“Sorry. More of the guys are trying to help out. Give me a minute.”
Lola whimpered, almost as if she’d understood what he said.
“Hurry,” I pleaded, because every second that ticked by made me think I was that much closer to letting Riley’s dog die on my watch.
“Anne’s not answering,” I heard in the background.
“Fuck,” Riley muttered again. Then, “Hold on. I’ll figure something out.”
“Let me call Sara,” someone said.
Then another one piped up with, “Brie can get the number for our mobile vet. Hold on.”
“Mobile vet?” I repeated, latching onto the idea like it was a lifeline.
“We’re getting a number for you,” Riley said.
“Can they come to me? To Lola?” It seemed too good to be true, the idea that I wouldn’t have to find a way to get her to the vet but that they could come to us.
He was quiet for a minute, followed by a bunch of muffled voices. He must have put his hand over the mouthpiece so he could talk to Nate and whomever else might be standing nearby.
Lola whimpered on my lap, and the sound clawed at my stomach. I didn’t know what to do for her, and it was killing me. I scratched her head, near her ears, and Max licked her paw a few times before licking my hand, too, as if he were trying to comfort us both. It was hard to believe I’d ever been afraid of him. He was such a sweet, gentle creature. Huge, yes, but very loving.
None of our ministrations seemed to have any effect on Lola, though. She just lay there looking pitiful and making pathetic sounds that broke my heart.
Finally, Riley came back on the phone. “Brie’s going to call the mobile vet they sometimes use. She’ll get them to come to you, okay? And once they’re on the way, Brie’s going to come over, too, so she can help you out.”
“The vet’s going to come here?” I repeated because I couldn’t quite believe it even though it was exactly what I had been hoping for. More than I’d hoped for, actually.
“Yeah. They’ve got a truck, kind of like a food truck, only it’s set up for veterinary work. They might not be able to help Lola there if she needs surgery, but they can at least help you figure out what’s wrong with her and transport her to the animal hospital for you.”
“You think she needs surgery?” I spluttered.
“I don’t know what she needs, baby doll. But they’ll help you figure it out.”
Baby doll. He hadn’t called me that in a while. It took me back to our days in Cabo, when everything had seemed like a dream. Back before reality had set in.
This wasn’t a dream. This was no fairy tale. This was as real as it could get.
“Okay,” I said, as resolutely as I could manage. I could handle this. Whatever it was, I could handle it. Riley was counting on me. And Max and Lola—especially Lola right now—were counting on me, too.
“I need you to be strong,” Riley said. “For Max and Lola. And for me.”
Oh, who was I kidding? If that was what he needed in a wife, he needed a different wife. Because I wasn’t strong. I was the least strong person I knew.
I was an utter wreck.
BEFORE THE MOBILE vet arrived, Brie Burns and her two-year-old son, Garrett, showed up at the house.
“It’s going to be fine,” she assured me, letting Garrett down on the floor to distract Max while she sat next to me and Lola on the couch. “Pepper, our border collie mix, ate one of Garrett’s diapers last summer. Luckily not one the little guy had worn yet, but it still did plenty of damage. Got caught in her intestines, and she had to have surgery. That’s probably all this is, which means Lola should be up and terrorizing you again in no time at all.” She glanced over at my face for a moment, then patted the back of my hand. “Just trying to make you laugh.”
I was probably white as a ghost, which was why she felt the need to make jokes. I forced a smile for her benefit, because she obviously didn’t know about my fears, or at least not enough about them to realize that wasn’t something I could joke about. “I know she’ll be all right,” I said to go along with her. But really, I knew nothing of the sort.
The doorbell rang, and Brie got up to answer it with Max and Garrett close on her heels. When they returned, a man in scrubs with dog bones all over them followed. Brie kept Max and Garrett off to the side, letting them play together while I spoke with the doctor.
“Dr. Morganstern,” he said to me before kneeling on the ground in front of the couch. “My technician is just getting a few things ready in the truck, but he’ll be here in a minute. I take it this is our patient?”
“Lola,” I replied, my voice cracking on her name as I nodded.
“So what’s going on with our pretty girl?” Without waiting for my response, he was already beginning his examination, allowing Lola a moment to sniff his hands—which she didn’t bother to do—before he ran them over her body, feeling for whatever signs she couldn’t tell us about.
The fact that she allowed him to touch her without even sniffing him first spoke volumes. She was even more miserable than she’d let on.
“She’s vomiting.,” I finally said. “A lot. And she’s lethargic. Doesn’t want to do anything but lie around.”
“Not normal for her? She’s pretty active?”
“Very active. She likes to cuddle sometimes, but she’s always getting into something. Always playing.”
He nodded. “Not a good sign, then. Is it solids or mainly liquids coming up?”
“Liquid.”
“Anything she could have gotten into without you knowing about it?”
“I don’t—I don’t know.” I shrugged, feeling like an absolute failure. “I wasn’t feeling well, so I took a nap. I thought they were both sleeping with me the whole time, but… They’re my husband’s dogs,” I finished lamely. “This is the first time he’s been gone since we got married.”
“So she might have been sneaky and gone off to play on her own without you knowing what she was doing,” Dr. Morgenstern said, raising a brow at Lola, as if she’d understand. “Is that what you did, hmm? Did you go off and eat something you shouldn’t have without your mama knowing? Trying to do something your dad wouldn’t let you do?”
Lola whimpered in response, but I was so caught off guard by the doctor calling me her mama that I could only scratch her ears, an automatic, comforting move.
“Any idea if anything’s missing? Rope toys? Plastic bags? Socks?”
“Socks?” I repeated, blinking in confusion.
“Yeah, some of my patients like to eat socks if they find them lying around. Not sure what it is that attracts them.”
“Have you checked the laundry bin to see if anything’s unusual?” Brie suggested.
I shook my head.
“Where is it?”
“Upstairs, next to the bathroom.”
She nodded and headed up the stairs, and the doctor kept examining Lola.
He placed a stethoscope against her belly for a moment. “Sounds a little sluggish, which would make sense if this is what I think this is.” At my confused expression, he said, “My guess is that Miss Lola here has a bowel obstruction after eating something she shouldn’t have. It’s clogging things up, and her food can’t get through. Then it has nowhere to go but to come back up, which explains the vomiting. And it’s pretty painful, too, which would explain why she isn’t acting like herself.”
“So what do we do about it? Can we give her some doggie laxatives or something?”
He gave me a kind smile, but it was the sort of smile that said you poor, simpleminded idiot. Or at least that was the way my mind interpreted it, whether that was his intention or not. “Laxatives won’t help if there’s an obstruction,” he explained. “They can break up food sometimes, but this probably isn’t food. We’ll have to perform surgery.”
Surgery? Just like Brie had suggested. That was the last thing I wanted to hear, though. Riley would kill me for letting something like this happen to his dog while he was gone. Maybe he seemed okay so far, but he only thought she was sick, not that she needed to be cut open.
“The laundry’s been knocked over and is spread all over the floor,” Brie said, coming back down the stairs. “No way for me to know if anything’s missing or not, but it looks like she wanted to make a mess while you were otherwise occupied. I put it all back in the hamper for you.”
“Mm hmm,” Dr. Morganstern murmured, still eyeing Lola. He rubbed her velvet-soft ears, exactly the way she liked best. Maybe, since he was a veterinarian, he automatically knew where an animal most liked to be touched. “You wanted to test your mama out, didn’t you? See if you could give her a hard time while your dad’s gone? I know how this works. Not my first rodeo.”
“So what do we do now?” I asked.
A knock sounded at the door, and Brie went to let the technician in. When she returned, another man in scrubs followed her, pushing a gurney that was big enough to carry Lola.
“We’ll take her out to the truck to get some X-rays first,” Dr. Morganstern said. “Depending on what we see on the films, we might run a few more tests, blood work and urinalysis and whatnot, to confirm what we’re dealing with.”
“And if it’s an obstruction and she needs surgery?”
“I’ve got operating privileges at a few local animal hospitals. I’ll make a couple of calls to see where I can take Lola to get her taken care of today, and we can have her home to you tomorrow.”
“Riley usually takes them to the Multnomah Animal Clinic,” I said.
“That’s one of the hospitals I work with.” He gave me a reassuring smile. “Maybe their regular vet will even want to scrub in. I’ll ask.”
This seemed like the best plan of action, so I nodded. “All right. Let’s do this.”
Together, Dr. Morganstern and his technician picked Lola up and put her on the gurney. I went out to the truck with them to be with her while they did the X-rays.
She whimpered a lot, but she cooperated completely. That only further proved that she was in awful pain. Under normal circumstances, Lola was anything but cooperative.
Within minutes, the doctor was placing the films up against a board, and he flipped a switch so a backlight came on.
“Yeah, see that right there?” he said to me, pointing to a dark spot on the scans. “That’s our problem. No telling what it is until we get in there, but it’s got her all blocked up.”
“So she needs surgery?”
“She needs surgery. But she’ll be back to normal in no time, once we get this mass out of there.”
“You’re sure?” I hated the uncertainty that was plaguing me, but this was Riley’s baby.
“Positive,” he replied. “There are always risks with any surgery, of course, but the risk is far greater if we do nothing.”
“How much greater?”
He gave me a steady look. “She’ll die.”
Well, that apparently settled that. I sighed, my gut still twisted in knots. “I guess we’d better do it. What do I need to do?”
“Jordan will print up some release forms for you to sign while I make a few calls to see if I can take her to Multnomah, or if we need to find somewhere else. Once the location is settled, we’ll get going.”
I swallowed hard, hoping I was making the right decision. But really, if she would die without the surgery, I supposed it was the only decision.
“And when will she come home again?”
“As long as everything goes according to plan, we’ll bring her home tomorrow. She’ll have to wear a cone around her neck for a while to keep her from chewing or licking at the incision, and I’ll give you some pain medicine for her. But barring any complications, she should be right as rain in the morning. I’ll call you as soon as we’re out of surgery to update you on her condition.”
“All right. Where do I sign?”