by Elle Casey
If he does it again, I’m going to call the police and tell them what’s going on. I don’t have a lot of hope that they’ll do anything, since a stolen laptop and a break-in don’t seem to rate any official follow-up, but I have to do something. I can’t just sit here and let someone harass me like that.
Ten minutes later, the baby birds are full enough that they stop their squawking. I put them back in their nest of shredded paper and blankets inside their kennel box and adjust the heat lamp in the corner to make sure it’ll create the right temperature before I leave them and go back to the front room. I hate that I feel a trickle of fear seep into my body when I step into the lobby.
Of course, there’s no one there. Banana would let me know if somebody had approached, but still . . . That stupid telephone stalker has cast a cold shadow over the whole area.
I’m seriously considering burning some sage when the front door opens. Banana jumps to his feet and starts growling and barking. I have to grab him by the collar to stop him from lunging at my visitor—Smitty.
“Hey, what’s going on?” he says. “Damn, your dog is seriously agitated right now.” He frowns at him. “Banana, what’s wrong with you?” He bends over and holds out his hand toward him.
Worried Banana is crazy enough right now to bite him, I pull the very unhappy dog away by his collar and shut him into the hallway that leads to the back room. I push Oscar Mayer in after him. I wouldn’t put it past Banana to teach himself how to turn the door handle and let himself back in, so I block the door with my chair.
“He’s been like this since his accident,” I say by way of apology. “I don’t know what’s going on with him.” I don’t want to hurt Smitty’s feelings by telling him Banana is only like this with him. No one else seems to bother my dog, except maybe Oscar Mayer, but that’s just because he’s an annoying puppy.
“You mean when he got hit by a car a few weeks ago?”
“Yeah. He’s been kind of aggressive ever since. I don’t know what to do about it.” After seeing Banana doing this again, I worry he has some neurological damage from his accident. I wish Dr. Masters hadn’t quit on me. Maybe I could call him later. There’s a chance he’d still give me a consultation over the phone as a personal favor.
“You should get a dog trainer for him.”
“Yeah. Maybe.” I sit down in the chair at the desk, not really interested in talking about how my dog needs training with someone who knows nothing about canines.
Smitty looks around. “This place is empty today.”
“It’s empty a lot these days. I have to send all of my hard cases into town now.”
“Why?”
“Because Dr. Masters quit. I thought you knew.”
“Yeah, I might’ve heard something about that.” He removes his hat and scratches his head. “That’s too bad.” He puts his hat back on and smiles at me. “But I have some good news for you.” He rubs his hands together.
“What is it? I could do with some good news.”
“Stay here; I’ll be right back.” He turns and jogs out the door, leaving it open. The lobby fills with cold air. I lean down and adjust my heater.
Smitty’s carrying a bundle under his arm when he returns. “I have a gift for you.” He shuts the door behind him and walks over, placing a large box on the counter.
“What’s that?” I ask, hoping it’s not an injured animal. It doesn’t matter how many I see, I always get sad when another one arrives. And Smitty is acting so strangely these days, I wouldn’t put it past him to think that an injured animal would cheer me up. He knows I love my work . . .
He turns the box around so I can see the label.
I read what it says and my eyes bulge out. “Is that what I think it is?”
He grins big over the top of the box. “It’s a new computer.”
I put my hand over my heart, shocked that he’d do something like this for me. “Smitty. You can’t do that.”
He frowns. “Why not? It’s a donation.”
“But . . . it’s expensive.”
“So? You need one for work, right?”
I look down at my desk, the dangling cords still where they were left by the thief. “Yeah, but . . . it’s too much. I can’t accept it.”
“Of course you can. You accept donations from people all the time.” He takes the box off the counter and puts it on the ground. The sound of ripping cardboard follows. “The guy at the store told me it’s a really good one. It’s got a lot of memory and power. It should hold all of your records and whatever else you need to put on it.”
I walk over and watch him pull it out. It’s definitely nicer than the one I had before. “Smitty, I don’t know what to say. This is really, really thoughtful of you.” I’m both thrilled to be back in business and afraid he’s going to expect something in return. It makes me feel a little sick to my stomach. I hate turning people down, especially people who don’t take no for an answer very well.
“It’s no problem at all. Believe me. I’m just real proud of you. You work really hard out here, and people don’t give you the respect you deserve. But I respect you, and I want you to know that.” He straightens and puts his hand on my shoulder, leaning down to look me directly in the eyes. His gaze is intense. “You’re a good person, Rose. You deserve good things.”
“Thanks, Smitty. That’s a very nice thing to say.” I step away to put some distance between us. He’s big . . . an imposing figure; not unfriendly, of course, but . . . intense. At my desk, I hold up the cords that are supposed to attach to the computer. “I don’t really know how to connect all these things.”
“I can probably figure it out.” He pulls the packing material off the ends of the laptop. “Give me a few minutes and I can usually figure out pretty much anything.”
The sense of relief that flows over me is incredible. I love Smitty; he’s been in my life forever. He’s like a brother to me, which is why his being suddenly interested in me romantically is so strange. I hope I haven’t hurt his feelings by turning him down, because I do appreciate his friendship and his help. I smile at him, hoping he knows how much I care. “This is so nice of you. Really, I’m just blown away. Are you sure you want to do this?”
“It’s no problem at all. I’m sure.” He comes over, and I go to the other side of the counter to watch him hook things up. He does seem to know what he’s doing.
“You wouldn’t happen to know how to get my data off the cloud and onto the laptop, would you?”
“I probably do. I’ve done a little bit of computer work in my time.” He looks up at me and winks. “I’ll just need your username and password.”
“You never cease to amaze me, Smitty. You’re a handyman, you take care of the bees . . . Now I find out that you’re a computer whiz too? What other secrets are you hiding?”
He pauses for a moment and looks up at me, his expression unreadable. “I’m full of secrets. You should get to know me better and then you’ll see.” The smile that follows is crooked.
I laugh as he goes back to his computer stuff. Talk about not taking no for an answer. “I’m still not going out with you. This computer doesn’t change anything.”
He pauses and puts his hand on his chest. “Ouch. You just sent an arrow right into my heart.”
I roll my eyes and sigh. “Please. As if.”
He takes a pad of paper and a pen from my desk and puts them on the counter. “Write your username and password down and the name of your cloud service. I’ll see what I can do about getting your data and software downloaded.”
He goes back to squinting at the computer cords, so I write down the info and leave him alone to do the work. It feels wrong to accept this gift from him, but I’m too desperate to do the right thing. I need a laptop to do my work efficiently and safely. I’m not able to update the animals’ care plans without one, and writing everything down is turning into a disaster, even with the smaller group of patients I’m caring for now. I’m not organized enough to run this
place old-school style.
While Smitty works his magic, I go to the narcotics cabinet in the back room to do an inventory as the dogs play nearby. Banana has stopped worrying about Smitty being in the building, acting like his old self, but just in case, I’m keeping him here with me. My mind drifts to Greg and conjures an image of him in a business suit sitting at his desk, doing his work. I wonder if I’ll ever see him there in his environment, and I wonder when I’ll hear from him again. I want to ask Amber what he’s been up to, but I don’t want her or Em to get involved in our relationship at this stage. It feels too new, too vulnerable. I could just imagine Greg deciding that being with me isn’t worth the hassle of having my sisters’ noses in his business. Amber and Greg have a somewhat antagonistic relationship, and I don’t want any of that rubbing off on what he and I have. She doesn’t see the things in him that I do, but she doesn’t know him the way I do either, so that’s understandable. If this thing between us has any chance of surviving, we need to keep it between us, at least for now.
“I think you’re ready to rock and roll,” Smitty shouts about a half hour later.
I walk out to the front room, leaving the dogs in the back, and see the computer’s welcome screen on.
“Got your data and your software on here,” he says, grinning.
I can’t keep my enthusiasm from taking over; I jump up and down and clap like a crazed cheerleader. “Yay! I’m so happy!”
Smitty stands up and holds his arms out. “How about a hug?”
I happily walk into his embrace and squeeze him around his waist. He’s really strong, his body like a big tree. “You are such a sweetheart, Smitty. Thank you so much. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
“Well, you wouldn’t have any honey and you wouldn’t have a computer, I can say that much.” He kisses the top of my head before letting me go.
I step left so he can go around to the other side of the counter. I sit down and stare at the screen, letting my fingers hover over the brand-new keyboard. “This is really nice. You spent way too much money, I know you did.”
He reaches over and pokes the end of my nose. “You deserve it.” He grips the edge of the counter as he looks around for a few seconds. His eyes roam the walls, the ceiling, the waiting area . . . and then he lets go and claps his hands together. “Welp, I gotta go.”
I stand. “Thanks so much. For everything. You are a champion.”
“Nah, I’m just a regular guy trying to fix things . . . I mean . . . do the right thing. Whatever. I’ll catch you later.” He waves at me over his shoulder as he strides out and shuts the door behind him. It seems like Smitty doesn’t move anywhere at a slow pace anymore. It must be because he’s always either working several jobs here on the farm or chasing after his younger brother. I seriously don’t think that man has any free time, which makes this gift even more special.
I walk over to the back door and open it, looking down at Banana. Oscar Mayer is nowhere to be seen. Banana just sits there, staring and growling softly at the front door.
“Banana, what is wrong with you? You know Smitty’s a nice guy.”
Banana runs out of the hallway and gets busy sniffing every place Smitty had been standing or sitting. He stops at the front door, lowers his head, and lets out a big huff of air.
Is it possible that Banana knows Smitty is trying to violate the sister bond? That he feels my inner conflict over accepting this generous gift? That he senses my concern that Smitty is going to expect something from me in return? I wouldn’t put anything past this dog. He’s smarter than any human I know.
“Banana Muffin, come over here.”
My baby comes over and sits in front of me, waiting expectantly for my next command. I need to get his mind off whatever is making him act so crazy. “Where’s Oscar?”
Banana turns to the side and looks down the hallway.
“Is he sleeping back there?”
Banana looks again. I think this is his version of a nod.
“Okay, let’s let him sleep. He’s still a baby.” I take his head and aim it at me so he has to look me in the eye. “I need you to do me a favor.”
Banana looks to the side and puts his foot up on my knee, leaving him only two legs to balance on. It’s a big gesture. He’s listening and acknowledging me as his pack leader.
“You need to give Smitty a break. He means well. I know he’s acting a little weird, but he’s a good guy.”
Banana turns his whole head away and puts his ears down.
“Just do your best. That’s all I ask.” I lean down and kiss him all over his face until his tail starts wagging.
The phone rings, pulling my attention away. Banana walks off to the back room as I stare at the caller ID. The area code tells me my caller is from Manhattan. I can’t stop grinning as I pick up the phone.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Hello, this is Rose.”
“Rose. Hi. It’s Greg.”
My heart sinks when I hear the tone of his voice. I was so sure our first conversation after the other week would be great, but this one already ranks up there as awful.
“What’s up? You sound upset.”
“I am. I’m really upset. I need your help, I think.” He sounds like he’s either about to cry or he’s already got tears running down his face. I can’t even picture a guy like him that broken down; this must be serious.
“What’s going on? Talk to me. I’ll do whatever I can.”
“It’s Tink. Something’s happened.”
I grab pen and paper and get ready to take notes. “Tell me what’s going on. Details.”
“Everything was fine with her when I got back from the farm last week. She was acting completely normal. But then a couple days later she got real tired, and then a couple days after that she stopped eating.”
“Was she vomiting?”
“Kind of. Nothing was coming up, but she was trying. She kept twisting her head funny, too. Her bark sounded weird, but the worst part is she can’t walk anymore. The vet thinks maybe she was injured somehow, but he can’t find anything wrong with her. Her X-rays are completely clear.”
“Is there anything else you can tell me that the vet said?” I’m racking my brain trying to come up with an answer for him. An inability to walk makes me think there was some sort of spinal injury or injury to the legs too, but if the X-rays are clear . . .
“No. Her blood tests are all mostly normal other than some levels being off, but nothing drastic, he said. No obvious signs of something he’d expect. All of her legs are fine; there’s nothing broken. I don’t know what to do.” He sounds close to tears again.
“You said Veronica was taking care of her while you were here, right?”
A few seconds pass by before he answers. “You don’t think she did something, do you?”
“No, not at all. I was just wondering if you know what her routine with Tinkerbell was when she was watching her.”
“I don’t. Do you think that has any significance?”
“It could. If she exposed the dog inadvertently to some sort of parasite or toxin. If the vet doesn’t know what to look for, it could interfere with his diagnosis. Veronica’s routine could be very pertinent.”
“Let me ask her. Could you hold on?”
“Of course. Take all the time you need.” While I listen to classical music coming from the law firm’s phone system, I mess around on my new laptop. I have several weeks’ worth of paperwork backlog to enter into it. I guess that’s one good thing about not having a vet here right now; there are fewer surgeries to document.
Greg comes back on the phone sounding breathless. “Veronica said that she would get up in the morning, feed the dog, and then they’d go for a walk. She’d come to work for half the day and then go back to my place to walk the dog again, and then she’d go back to work until dinnertime. When she got home at night, she’d feed the dog and then go for one last walk.”
“Where did she take these walks?”
“Did she by any chance let the dog go in any long grass?” There’s a diagnosis tickling the back of my mind, but I find it very hard to believe a dog could pick this up in New York City.
A muffled version of Greg’s voice speaks to someone there with him. “Did you walk her in long grass?”
I hear a female voice, but I can’t tell what her answer is. Greg comes back on the line, his voice excited. “Yes, she did. She said at one point Tink got away from her and went running into some grass with some other dogs.”
“Okay.” My pulse is picking up speed. I don’t know if I can help him, but I want to very badly. “I need you to do me a favor. Write this down.”
“I’m ready.”
“Tick paralysis. It requires treatment using a medication called TAS and other necessary support like high-dose, soluble cortisol, and rapid fluid loading in case of anaphylactic shock. This is a really rare thing, and the chances of it being her problem are very, very slim, so I don’t want you to get too excited about it, but you should definitely mention it to your vet.”
“What is it?”
“It’s caused by a toxin released by ticks. Like I said, it’s very rare, and I find it hard to believe she has this problem, but you should check for it, at least.”
“What do we do? Is there a test?”
“You have to search the dog all over from head to tail for ticks. Check in her ears, between her toes, under her tail, in her private areas . . . in addition to everywhere else. They like to hide. If I’m correct, she’ll have a tick or more than one tick somewhere, or evidence that she had one.”
“What does the evidence look like?”
“A crater in her skin. If the tick is there, it might be so tiny, it’ll be very difficult to see. You need to remove that tick, and once it’s removed, sometimes within just a couple of hours, a dog will recover or at least be able to walk again. In her case, since the tick has been there for a while, it might take longer . . . if this is her problem. In addition to the other treatment I mentioned, she’ll need IV support for a day or two, but if this is the correct diagnosis, she should fully recover within a week if the doctor gets to it quick enough.”