Dingo's Recovery

by Genevieve Fortin

  Doug meticulously removed the white frosting from the chocolate cake before he started eating. “Not a fan of frosting?” she asked with a smile as she took a bite of her own piece of cake. It was a little dry but not too bad for something bought from a grocery store at the last minute. Isabelle was right to be proud.

  “Nah, it’s way too sweet.” She wasn’t surprised by his answer. She’d noticed he rarely ate sweets. She was certain it was not a question of weight though. He was about six feet tall and skinny as a thermometer. With round glasses and thinning brown hair, at first glance he looked like the epitome of the nerd. But he also had striking aquamarine blue eyes that seemed to make their female vet techs weak at the knees, judging by a conversation she’d caught between Isabelle and Chloe. Of course he was clueless about his charms and the effect he had on their employees.

  “You should have told me your birthday was coming up, Amanda. I could have gotten you a gift. Or at least a card.” Doug seemed genuinely saddened by Amanda’s lack of disclosure. His distress perplexed her. She swallowed her bite of cake with a hint of guilt.

  “I’m sorry. I don’t usually share this kind of information with people I work with. I didn’t mean to mention it at all actually. It just came out of my mouth.”

  Doug had picked at his piece of cake with his fork while Amanda spoke and when she finished he set the plate and fork on the table and cleared his throat before he looked her straight in the eye. “My birthday is in October. October eleventh, to be exact.” He scratched at his neck nervously and blinked several times, clearly uncomfortable with their conversation, yet determined to continue.

  “Okay. I’ll put it on my calendar,” she said hesitantly, unsure if it was the right thing to say. She didn’t understand what had gotten into him.

  “Good. I think we should know these things about each other. We’re not only coworkers, after all. We’re partners. I don’t even know how old you are.”

  “Right. I’m thirty-two.”

  “Good. I’m forty-three.” Amanda nodded and a silence followed during which they stared at each other until he spoke again. “Susan and I would like to have you over for dinner soon.”

  “Susan?” Amanda was certain Doug was going somewhere with this strange exchange, but she couldn’t figure out where yet. His transitions—or lack thereof—were unsettling to say the least.

  “My wife. We’d like you to come to our house for dinner.”

  “Oh. Sure, that would be lovely.” She watched as a timid smile took shape on his lips and guessed she’d given the right answer.

  “Great. I’ll let you know when.”

  “Okay.” Doug granted her a final nod of acknowledgment and left the break room. She shook her head. It might be easy and natural to work with someone who was as socially challenged as she was, but having a conversation with that same person was a completely different thing. She glanced at the staff at the other end of the break room. They were engrossed in their own, much less awkward conversation. She headed for the door, deciding that the timing was perfect to make her escape unnoticed.

  Amanda pondered how strange and unexpected this birthday had been as she walked the three miles from the clinic to her condo on Franklin Street. She made the trek almost every day, with the exception of days when she was running late or the weather was bad. Walking got her head ready for work in the morning and cleared it of work-related issues at night. Fresh air was magical like that.

  Why was Doug suddenly interested in getting to know her on a more personal level? Was his wife responsible for his efforts? Or was he not quite as socially inept as she was after all? Perhaps partners in a business should know things like their respective birthdays or the name of their partner’s wife. Perhaps that kind of stuff was more important to him than she’d thought. It scared her to some extent, but at the same time she figured that if she absolutely had to make friends with someone, he was not a bad choice.

  As she left the street to cut through Broadway Park she replaced thoughts of Doug with ones about Joyce Allen, free now to let the sophisticated beauty occupy her mind without any restraint.

  She gave a wry grin. In her musings, it was so easy, so natural. They spoke of numerology and cared for Dingo as if they’d known each other all their lives. Getting to that point in real life was another story. She had no idea how to approach any woman, let alone a woman as sophisticated as Joyce. Her heart raced with anxiety at the mere thought of talking to her outside of an exam room.

  She took a deep breath as she entered a red brick building and climbed up the stairs to the second floor to her two-bedroom condo. She needed to focus on something else. Entering the small modern foyer, she contemplated the boxes filling half of the living room. She decided now was as good a time as any to finish unpacking, to really settle in. She still had a million questions about her future, but one thing had become clear today. She was in Bangor to stay.

  Chapter Seven

  Joyce carried Dingo into the clinic and informed the nice woman sitting at the reception desk of their arrival. She sat in the waiting room, placed her purse on the chair beside her, and installed Dingo comfortably on her lap. Glancing at the poster with the basset hound with a broken leg, she yawned. “I bet he lets his mommy sleep,” she told the basenji, who looked back at her with his usual pitiful frown. “Those forehead wrinkles don’t work on me anymore, little brat. Try again after I’ve had some sleep.” Dingo sighed and closed his eyes.

  Amanda had given them her first morning appointment and the waiting room was empty. Joyce was grateful. She felt like a truck had rolled over her a few times, forward and backward. As she waited patiently with Dingo she checked the position of the scarf around her neck. She’d chosen a silk one in tones of reds, purples, and blues that she wore with a deep red shell top. She also was wearing more makeup than usual, hoping to hide the paleness of her face and the bags under her eyes caused by the lack of sleep.

  The past two weeks had been challenging. No, they’d been hell. Dingo’s late-night yodels before his injury had always been annoying, but they eventually stopped and they both went to sleep together. This was different. He didn’t understand why he couldn’t sleep in bed with her anymore and made the most heartrending sounds the whole time he was in his crate. Screeching yodels that could only be interpreted as crying kept Joyce up all night, leaving her to grab a few minutes of sleep here and there while he slept on his dog bed during the day. All day long. Snoring away.

  “Doctor Carter is ready for you, Ms. Allen.”

  Joyce’s eyes popped open at the sound of Isabelle’s voice. When had she closed them? And for how long? She feared she’d been sleeping.

  “Oh, hi. Okay, yes. Lead on.” She pushed the strap of her purse up to her shoulder, gathered Dingo into her arms, and followed Isabelle to the exam room they’d been in two weeks ago. She just had time to place Dingo on the exam table before Amanda arrived. She smiled at the pretty veterinarian, realizing as she did so that the way her facial muscles tensed up at the simple act meant she probably hadn’t smiled much in the past several days. “Good morning, Amanda.”

  “Good morning,” Amanda answered with a bright smile and a slight blush on her cheeks. She was so lovely, Joyce thought. “So, tell me about the past two weeks,” she added as she brought her attention to Dingo and started petting him softly.

  “Pure hell,” Joyce said honestly, her candor surprising herself as much as Amanda, who giggled nervously. “He won’t let me sleep,” she explained. “Do I really need to keep him in his crate?”

  “I’m afraid so,” Amanda said with compassion. She placed her hand on Joyce’s as she’d done during their first visit and the touch had the same calming effect on her it had had that first time. Joyce knew she would believe whatever she’d say next. “But you have to sleep too, Joyce.”

  Joyce snorted a laugh. “I know, but Dingo in crate and Joyce getting some sleep are not compatible, unfortunately. Do you have sleeping pills you can prescribe?”


  “For Dingo?”

  “For me! For both of us! Whatever will work. I need to sleep. I really, really need to sleep.” She punctuated her declaration with exaggerated, desperate gestures before she ended with a heartfelt, “Please.” If they could see her, she knew that Barbara and Evelyn would tell her she was acting like a drama queen. She half expected Amanda to do the same. Instead, the young doctor took Joyce’s hand between hers and smiled with empathy.

  “I can prescribe something for Dingo if we have to, but I’d like to try something else first. Something you might not like.”

  “What? I’ll do anything. Tell me what to do and I’ll do it, I promise.” Amanda chuckled at her desperate plea and squeezed her hand.

  “Well, let me ask you something first. When Dingo cries at night, what do you do?”

  “I try to comfort him, I yell at him to be quiet. Nothing works though. He keeps crying.”

  “So, Dingo cries and Dingo gets attention. Am I correct?”

  “Yes,” Joyce admitted shamefully, understanding what she’d been doing wrong. After all the reading she’d done on dog training it took Amanda to make her realize she’d been doing exactly the one thing she shouldn’t have done: giving Dingo attention when he was asking for it. “I wasn’t supposed to do that, was I?”

  Amanda shook her head slowly, still smiling, and Joyce wondered how the woman was capable of showing compassion even as she was reprimanding her.

  “Let’s do this. Before we give Dingo sleeping pills, why don’t you try ignoring him tonight? If it gets too difficult, move his crate to another room in the house, as far from your bedroom as possible. I promise you he will stop crying. It might take a while, but he will. Okay?”

  “Okay, that makes sense.” With new hopes that she might get some sleep tonight at last, Joyce turned her attention to Dingo and his bandage. After all, his injured leg was the reason why they were in an exam room with Amanda this morning. They weren’t here for her to get therapy, although Amanda seemed awfully talented at making her feel better. She felt safe and at peace in her presence. A few minutes with the young redhead brought her even more serenity than an hour of yoga. And she loved yoga.

  “Perfect,” Amanda concluded as she released Joyce’s hand. Joyce left her warm hand on the table, hoping for her touch to return. But Amanda was all business. “Besides the lack of sleep, how are things going with Dingo? Has he been eating and drinking normally?”

  “Yes.”

  “Urinating normally as well?”

  “Yes.”

  “Any soft stools?”

  “No, that’s normal too.”

  “Great. So we’ll change that bandage and you’ll be on your way.”

  “Sounds like a plan,” Joyce said although she was in no hurry to leave Amanda.

  She took a step back and watched quietly as Amanda and Isabelle proceeded to remove Dingo’s bandage. Dingo fought minimally when the two women forced him on his side, but he lay still and obediently as they started working on the bandage. It didn’t take long before a rancid smell started emanating from the bandage. Joyce moved closer to the table to see what might be causing that awful odor. She didn’t know how to describe it. What came to mind was death. Putrid, rotting death. The aroma quickly filled the small room. Joyce placed a hand over her nose as she examined Dingo’s leg, spotting sores in a few places.

  “Oh my god. Is it infected? Is he going to lose his leg?”

  Amanda had stopped smiling, but her tone remained calm. “No. He’s not going to lose his leg. He does have a few sores I don’t like, but we’ll take care of them. It happens a lot. That’s why we want to change the bandage often. What we’ll do is give him antibiotics to make sure the sores don’t get infected.” She turned to Joyce and smiled and Joyce was almost reassured.

  “But what about this smell?”

  “It’s pretty bad, isn’t it?” Amanda admitted with a chuckle. “It’s bacteria. Stuck under that bandage it gets vile. That’s another reason why we need to change Dingo’s bandage often. Don’t worry. We’ll clean Dingo’s leg, let it dry, put antibiotic cream on his sores, give him a brand-new bandage, and send you home with more antibiotics to give him orally every day. All of this is perfectly normal, but it will take a little longer than expected this morning. Do you have errands to run or would you like to…”

  “I’ll wait,” Joyce interrupted.

  “I knew it,” Amanda said with another, wider smile. “I’ll take him in the back and we’ll call you when he’s ready, okay?”

  “Okay.” Joyce watched Amanda leave with Dingo before she let Isabelle escort her to the waiting room.

  She sat on her usual chair and breathed deeply in and out as she focused on the basset hound facing her. “It will be all right,” she said to the poster, taking advantage of a still empty waiting room. And she really trusted her words. Unbelievably, she’d gone in a few minutes from a grumpy sleep-deprived old woman to the hopeful, relaxed woman she much preferred to be. Just a few minutes in Doctor Amanda Carter’s exam room. In her presence. There was definitely something special about that young woman. Something that brought out the best in her.

  Joyce didn’t quite understand why or how, but her instinct told her Amanda Carter had an important part to play in her life, perhaps in helping her let her true self shine. Her instinct also told her that part was too important to be limited to an exam room or even to this veterinary clinic. Joyce needed to find a way to spend time with Amanda outside of this place. She couldn’t get to know her better with the observant eyes of the vet tech or a few minutes at a time while she changed Dingo’s bandage. No, they needed more time. To talk. She wanted to know what Amanda the Seeker was looking for exactly. She wanted to know her philosophy of life, what mattered to her, what made her smile other than a neurotic client who needed to sleep.

  But how? What would make a beautiful young woman like Amanda want to spend time with an older woman like herself? She couldn’t simply invite her for coffee. That would probably scare her.

  Joyce laughed to herself. She’d never been shy before. Then again, she’d never met someone she so desperately wanted to get to know better. She was the one being constantly invited to mundane events. Invitations she often refused, preferring to go spend some time at the museum or even attend a concert by herself.

  She focused on the poster across from her, determined to come up with a brilliant idea before Dingo was ready to leave the doctor’s care today. She wouldn’t leave the clinic until she’d made plans with Amanda. Who cared about their age difference? She wasn’t going to ask the veterinarian on a date after all. She would simply propose an activity they could enjoy together. She would offer her friendship. Amanda wouldn’t be able to say no to her. Very few people could say no to Joyce when she really wanted something. And right now, she really wanted Amanda in her life.

  Chapter Eight

  When Amanda came back to the exam room with Dingo and his freshly wrapped leg, she saw an expression on Joyce’s face that she didn’t recognize. Her smile and her almond-shaped anthracite eyes had in them something mischievous and inquisitive she hadn’t seen before. She hadn’t seen many of Joyce’s expressions yet, of course, and she wanted to know all of them, but she found this particular one unsettling. She’d been proud of herself for keeping her nerves under control earlier, but she wasn’t certain she could keep her composure under this new, almost intrusive stare. The more she tried to remain aloof, the more her mind flashed back to the delicate hand she’d been holding to reassure Joyce, to the softness of her skin. She flushed, convinced that Joyce could read every thought she was having.

  She nervously pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose with her index finger. “So Dingo is all set. He was a very good boy during the entire process. Some dogs need to be sedated every time we change their bandage, but fortunately it won’t be the case with him,” she said quickly, trying to keep her mind on business.

  “Great. That’s good to know
. Have you treated a lot of dogs with broken legs around here?”

  “Not around here. I’ve only been here for two months. But I did treat several broken legs when I worked in Portland.”

  “Two months? So you’re new in town then?”

  “Yes.” Amanda was yet again surprised at how easy it was to divulge information to Joyce. While the tiniest of revelations was torture with anyone else, it seemed natural with her. And the way Joyce’s smile widened made it seem like she was especially satisfied with this specific revelation. If she had a minute alone with her, the privacy might help Joyce come forward with the reason why the fact that Amanda was new to Bangor made her so happy.

  “Isabelle, would you go get Dingo’s antibiotics ready while I explain to Ms. Allen how to give them to him?”

  “Of course,” Isabelle agreed before exiting the room.

  “Have you ever given Dingo medicine orally using a syringe or a dropper?”

  “Yes. I need to empty the contents of the syringe right here, correct?” Joyce said as she touched the side of Dingo’s mouth toward the back teeth.

  “That’s right. The antibiotics we’re giving you come with a dropper so you’ll be all set,” Amanda said. She focused on Dingo’s mouth as she felt Joyce observe her.

  “So what brought you to Bangor? Do you have family here? Friends?”

  “No. Doctor Perry offered me partnership in his clinic so I moved here.”

  “Just like that, huh?” Joyce said playfully.

  “Just like that. It was a great career move and I love it here. I can get lost in nature,” Amanda confirmed before she found the courage to meet Joyce’s gaze.

  “Well, congratulations on the partnership. Dingo and I sure think Doctor Perry chose wisely. You’ve been amazing. With both of us.” Joyce winked at her and she felt her cheeks warm up to the point of discomfort.

  “Thank you,” she managed to answer although her voice sounded like a whisper to her own ears.