Pet Whisperer...er...rrr

by Carolyn McCray; Ben Hopkin

  “Mean? Vicious? Werewolf-like?” Wyatt offered.

  Diablo’s snarl grew to a full-throated growl.

  “Yes, on all three counts, I’m afraid,” the doctor agreed as she edged a step away from the bed. Like Wyatt said, she looked pretty darn smart. “Ever since your uncle lost consciousness, he hasn’t let anyone near. We really need you to run Diablo home so that we can treat your uncle at eight.”

  Wyatt gaped. Literally gaped. “You want me, the one with the bull’s-eye on his chest, to catch the spawn of Satan?”

  The doctor shrugged, which seemed a very undoctorly thing to do. “If you aren’t able to remove him, I think the nurses are going to have to call animal control. And with Diablo’s attitude, a tranquilizer gun is not out of the question.”

  Wyatt looked at the little demon dog. Diablo gave one last growl and then nuzzled in next to his uncle. He might be the son of Lucifer himself, but dang, he loved Bodhi 1000 percent.

  He sighed as he answered. “I’ll do my best.”

  The doctor went to leave, but then turned back. “He said you were a good nephew.” She paused, and then continued with a grin. “He knew you’d do the right thing.”

  Wyatt felt tears prickle against his eyelids once more. He refused to give in to them. Straightening his back, he replied, “Probably best if you move along. You don’t want to witness this. It might not be pretty.”

  Dr. Leighton put her hands out in the fashion of surrender as she backed away from the room. “I will leave you to your Herculean task.”

  * * *

  Jazmine drove through the large metal gate and started up the drive to Andrea’s house in her beat-up gold ’94 Honda Accord. Well, gold was kind of accurate. A bit more specific would have been gold with rust patches that Jazmine chose to call accents. She loved her car. He had seen her through some really tough times.

  No more tough than what Andrea had gone through. Jazmine tilted her rearview mirror to catch the form of the napping girl. Her sweet face was still radiant, a slight smile quirking her mouth up at the corners. Jazmine needed to kind of “talk through,” aka get their stories straight, about what had happened today with Andrea before her mother came home, but it could wait.

  “We’re almost there,” she called over her shoulder to the sleepy girl, who was strapped into the most amazing booster seat available for purchase. Jazmine was not positive, but she thought the thing might be able to make her a cup of coffee if she could just find the right sequence of straps and latches to pull. The device had more bells and whistles than well … Jazmine’s beat-up ’94 Honda Accord.

  The wind must have blown, as bright yellow and orange leaves swirled on the breeze. The gust shook off nearly the last of remaining leaves on the trees lining the drive. Only a few stubborn autumn leaves still clutched the branches, unwilling to give up their lease on life. Then the foliage disappeared, parting to reveal the stark lines and brilliant glass of the Andrea’s house.

  As Jazmine rounded the circular driveway, she was startled to find Ms. Evelyn Stone, Andrea’s mother, stepping out of her Audi, briefcase in hand. Her employer wasn’t supposed to be home for another two hours at the earliest. Since when did Ms. Stone get home early?

  As always, Ms. Stone was put together with laser-like precision, outfitted in a tailored charcoal suit with a deep blue blouse, accessorized with the most stunning pair of shoes Jazmine had ever seen. Those shoes probably cost as much as one month of Jazmine’s salary. Maybe two. Jazmine looked again. Okay, probably three.

  The woman oozed attraction and intimidation in equal measures.

  As Jazmine pulled to a stop, Andrea perked up and looked out the window.

  “Mommy!” The girl unbuckled herself with preternatural speed and leapt out of the car, racing toward her mother. Jazmine followed on her heels, listening to the stream of words spilling out of her young charge.

  “We went to this thing and there were lots of animals and weird people, and some of them were mean, but one of them was super-nice and his name is Wyatt and he has messy hair, but he’s really funny, and we talked about Blackie and the field and the tree …”

  Andrea’s mother looked down in confusion at her daughter.

  “Hold on a second, Andrea. I want to hear all about it. But let’s go inside first.” Ms. Stone guided them to the large double doors that led to the foyer of the house. As Andrea ran on before them, the businesswoman stated, “I see she is talking again. I told you it was nothing to worry about.”

  Nothing to worry about? Weeks without talking? Perhaps Ms. Stone could press wishes into reality at her business. However, that wasn’t exactly working on the home front. Jazmine followed Ms. Stone into the entryway, stopping alongside her to pull off her shoes and set them in the precise row that her employer insisted upon. The rest of the house was as pristine as that row of shoes. Clean, sleek, modern lines predominated throughout. The entryway had enormous vaulted ceilings, but with a sharpness typically not seen in the Midwest.

  It was impressive. It made a statement. Jazmine hated it.

  “So, Andrea,” Ms. Stone said as she straightened her daughter’s shoes. “Tell me all about your day.”

  “Well, I was missing Blackie, so Jazmine took me to a place where people talk to animals, and the animals talk back.”

  Ms. Stone quirked an eyebrow at Jazmine in query. Jazmine, put on the spot, stuttered, “We … it … they’re called pet communicators. They’re supposed to be able to interpret for your animal. I saw it in the paper, and I figured there would be lots of animals there. I thought …” She trailed off as she saw Evelyn’s face cool.

  “I see,” Ms. Stone said as she turned back to her daughter. “And what did you do there, Andrea?”

  “We talked to people. Lots of people,” Andrea said, talking with her hands as they walked out of the foyer and into the huge living room. “We were seeing if anyone could talk to Blackie. But no one could.”

  “That’s because Blackie’s gone, Andrea. We talked about this.” Ms. Stone’s mouth was pinched together, accentuating the lines around her mouth.

  “But no, Mommy. Then we met Wyatt. He’s funny. And he didn’t want to talk to Blackie at first, but then he did. And he told me all about the field and the tree.”

  “What field?” Ms. Stone’s lips pinched tighter.

  “The field where you go when you die. Blackie’s there, and so’s Daddy.”

  OMG, Jazmine thought. Actually, she thought something much, much worse, but she didn’t even like to have thoughts like that around Andrea. Jazmine gave the little girl every nonverbal signal to stop talking, yet Andrea hurried on.

  “They run and play together, and then they rest under the tree. Blackie shakes hands. I wanted to go there too, but Wyatt says I have to learn things first.” Andrea’s eyes shone as she beamed up at her mother. “Isn’t that awesome?”

  Ms. Stone gripped the handle of her briefcase until her knuckles turned white. Jazmine feared the expensive Argentine leather would snap in her employer’s hand.

  “Andrea, could you go to your room for a bit? I need to talk to Jazmine.”

  The little girl didn’t seem to notice that her mother’s voice had lost all sense of warmth. “Okay, Mommy. Can I play some Wii?”

  “That’s fine.”

  “Can Jazmine come play with me when you’re done?” Andrea asked.

  “We’ll see.”

  Andrea gave Jazmine’s waist a big hug. Jazmine squeezed back, trying not to allow Ms. Stone’s icy glare to unnerve her. Once released, Andrea skipped upstairs, heading toward a playroom that was bigger than Jazmine’s entire apartment. The little girl hummed the tune that had been playing in the car, “The Sun Will Come Out Tomorrow,” although at this moment Jazmine wasn’t so sure about that.

  The sound of the little girl running along the hallway above them filled the room. Then the patter of her steps gave way to the snick of the playroom’s door closing behind her.

  Silence. A long silence
. A long, cold silence.

  Jazmine followed as Ms. Stone walked to her office off the foyer and set her briefcase on the desk. With typical steady precision, she opened the case and got something out. Jazmine wasn’t sure what it was, but she knew that she had better start talking. Silence from Ms. Stone usually predicted a litany in the making from Ms. Stone.

  “Ms. Stone, I am so sorry. I just thought—”

  “It’s all right,” Ms. Stone responded.

  Okay, that was the last thing Jazmine ever thought that she would hear out of her employer’s mouth. Jazmine just stood there as Ms. Stone finished writing something down.

  “Here you are,” Ms. Stone said as she handed Jazmine a slip of paper. A check.

  “I don’t understand …”

  Ms. Stone’s eyebrow cocked. “Really? I guess I shouldn’t be surprised, given the fact that you couldn’t follow the simplest of instructions.” She nodded to Jazmine’s hand. “That is your final check.”

  Jazmine clutched the paper in her hand. She could not get fired. Not with rent coming up, and this check not even covering half of it. “Ms. Stone, please, I didn’t mean to—”

  “Didn’t mean to what? Countermand my direct instructions? Override my express desires? Contaminate my daughter’s mind with wishful thinking and starry-eyed stories?

  Jazmine almost wished Ms. Stone was yelling. Then there might be some hope of figuring this out. But with her employer’s cool, detached manner, Jazmine knew it was impossible. She’d heard that measured tone before. Usually on business calls right before Ms. Stone bought the company and then gutted it for profit.

  “That will be all,” Ms. Stone stated before sitting down at her desk.

  Jazmine’s lips trembled, and she was pretty sure her feet had gone numb. If captains of industry couldn’t change Ms. Stone’s mind, how could she?

  Then laughter, bright, tinkling laughter, drifted from the room above them. Andrea’s laughter. “Don’t worry, Mario! Andrea’s coming to the rescue!”

  With a spark of hope, Jazmine looked at Ms. Stone. Surely her employer must realize that Jazmine had only taken Andrea to the stupid pet-whispering event to help her. But Ms. Stone didn’t even look up when she hit the intercom button.

  “Andrea, please keep it down. Mommy is trying to work.”

  Or not.

  With a sigh, Jazmine folded the check in half and left without another word.

  * * *

  Wyatt dodged to the left. Diablo zagged to the right. They’d been in this Mexican Chihuahua standoff for a while. Another nurse passed by, camera phone in hand. Sure. Laugh. Take videos. Did they not know he was on a life-or-death mission here?

  Turning back to the devil dog, Wyatt cracked his knuckles. “You can do this,” he said, just like Richard Simmons had taught him on Bodhi’s old VHS tapes. “You heard the doctor. I’m a good nephew.”

  However, the Chihuahua lifted his snout in an Elvis sneer, and then looked away in disdain.

  “Darn it, Diablo. Look at me.” Wyatt pointed his index and middle fingers at Diablo’s eyes, and then back at his own. “Eyes here.”

  The pooch turned his malevolent gaze on Wyatt, glaring with such intensity that Wyatt stumbled backward, bumping into one of the machines, nearly knocking it over.

  “Okay, okay … Maybe here.” Wyatt indicated a spot next to his head. Yeah, too close. “Over there.” Wyatt gestured to the far wall. Still not enough. “Way out in the hallway.”

  Diablo settled back down next to Bodhi with what could only be referred to as a certain smugness. That was it. The dog was going down.

  “You are my Everest,” Wyatt said, and began edging around the bed toward the devil beast, speaking in a matter-of-fact tone, “Now, look it. Do you know how heartbroken Bodhi would be if he found out you were in the pound?” Diablo growled deep in his throat, making Wyatt’s skin try to crawl off his body.

  Wyatt straightened his shoulders, cracked his neck … and lunged. Diablo sprang into action, leaping up with perfect timing to clamp his needle teeth square onto Wyatt’s nose. Wyatt yelped, grabbed at his wounded proboscis, and retreated until he tripped into the chair in the corner of the room.

  Diablo barked in triumph, then scuttled down off the bed and scurried underneath, where he proceeded to growl and snarl, the sound magnified and reverberating off the metal.

  “Seriously, dog,” Wyatt said as he pushed off the chair. “Where did you get all these issues?”

  Wyatt crouched, looking under the bed. He sprang back ramrod straight when he realized Diablo’s fangs were inches from his still aching nose. He could feel his heartbeat throb in his offended appendage. He probably looked like Rudolph. Rudolph with great hair, of course, but Rudolph nonetheless.

  Wyatt got down on his hands and knees, well back from the demon’s den, and crawled to the other side of the bed. His hope was to get at the little tyrant diagonally. But Diablo matched him move for move. Everywhere that Wyatt went, Diablo mirrored him exactly, cutting off every avenue of attack.

  Wyatt rose, dusting off his knees. He had to admit that he was never going to win a straight-out battle with Diablo. Who could? This was going to take some strategy.

  He rummaged around in the room, staying well away from the bed, finally locating the materials he needed. He first stuffed wads of toilet paper into the sleeves of his shirt, buttoning them into place. He then took two thick stacks of paper towels and wrapped them around his hands, taping them in place with medical tape. Finally, he emptied out the wastebasket and placed in on his head like a helmet. He looked at his reflection in the dispenser. He was ready.

  “Come on, you little land shark,” Wyatt said, taunting Diablo now that he was fully geared up. “Show me what you’ve got.”

  Wyatt splayed himself out on the ground and wormed his way under the bed. Once again, Diablo proved too savvy. Instead of the head-on attack that Wyatt was prepared for, Diablo darted from underneath the bed and ran up Wyatt’s back. The wily little devil shoved his nose under the rim of the trashcan and nipped at Wyatt’s ears.

  “Ow! Ouch! Hey!”

  A dry voice remarked from somewhere behind Wyatt’s prostrate form. “Wow. Showing off your ‘animal-oriented’ skills, huh?”

  * * *

  Jazmine was doing everything she could not to laugh. Wyatt, sprawled on the ground, was rolling around to escape from the tiniest teacup Chihuahua she had ever seen. And what on earth did he have on his head? The tiny pup barked up at her, and then raced around and up onto the bed.

  Wyatt scrambled to his feet, ripping what appeared to be sheets of paper off of his hands. “What are you doing here?” Wyatt looked a bit crazed, breathing like he’d just run the New York and Boston marathons back-to-back.

  “Hello to you, too. You left before—”

  “Wait,” Wyatt said, seeming to realize that he was still wearing a trash can on his head as he whipped it off. “Where’s Andrea?”

  Jazmine’s mirth vanished. “I dropped her off at home.”

  He ran his fingers through his mop of hair. “How is the little lass doing?”

  “Great, just great.” Jazmine realized that might have come out a bit harsh. What happened wasn’t Wyatt’s fault. She softened her tone. “She ran home, right up to her mother, and told her all about the field and the tree and …”

  “And?” Wyatt prompted.

  “Her mother fired me.”

  “What?” Wyatt stammered. “She can’t. She couldn’t just—”

  Jazmine shook her head. “Don’t worry about it.”

  “Look, I’ll talk to her, and—”

  Although it was kind of sweet that Wyatt rose to her defense, there was no talking Ms. Stone back from the ledge on this one.

  “It’s okay. I can find another job.”

  Wyatt looked possibly more upset than Jazmine felt. She shrugged. “Besides, it was totally worth it. To see Andrea smile again …”

  She had meant to just comfort Wyatt with those words
, but realized they were true. Even if she had known what was going to happen. Even if she knew that going to the pet-whispering event was going to leave her in the unemployment line and possibly evicted, she would have done it all over again. Jazmine knew what it was like to be bogged down in grief. She couldn’t let Andrea live like that anymore.

  But that wasn’t why she had come to the hospital.

  “Anyway, the event didn’t have your contact information, so I brought by your referrals.”

  Wyatt snorted. “Yeah, right. Not even that crazy bird lady wants me.”

  Jazmine placed the cards in Wyatt’s hand as she joked, “Clearly, those ‘crazy’ people are much more gullible than you thought.”

  Wyatt puzzled over the pieces of paper, turning them over a couple of times. “Wait, these are just phone numbers. Where’s the animal’s information?”

  “Oh, sorry. Wrong stack,” Jazmine said, pointing to the cards in his hand. Who could blame her for sneaking a little peek? “Those are women who were hoping you’d communicate with more than their pet, if you know what I mean.”

  Wyatt looked as befuddled as he sounded. “Chicks gave me their numbers?”

  “Yes, strangely,” Jazmine said, chuckling as Wyatt set down his trash can helmet. She reached into her purse to pull out a much larger stack of cards. “But here are your client referrals.”

  * * *

  Wyatt reached out and took the huge pile from Jazmine. None of this made any sense. Why would the ferret lady want to see him again? More importantly, why would he want to see her? Okay, he got why Ashley and Scout wanted an encore performance, but the iguana? And Wooda-baby? He meant The Rock. Polly? How could all of these people want to hire him?

  “Oh, no. I guess they don’t matter anymore,” Jazmine said as she approached Bodhi’s bed. She turned back to Wyatt. Was that how he looked when he realized how sick Bodhi was? “Although if it is any consolation,” she continued, “I think he’d be proud of the job you did today.”