Diamond In The Ruff. Marie Ferrarella
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what seemed to Lily to be a reproving look—if puppies could look at someone reprovingly.
Maybe she was reading too much into it, Lily told herself.
Still, she felt compelled to tell the puppy, “I asked you not to run.”
Making her way out to the front of the clinic, Lily saw the receptionist, Erika, looking at her. She flushed a little in response. “You probably think I’m crazy, talking to the dog.”
Erika’s dark eyes sparkled. “On the contrary, most pet owners would think you’re crazy if you didn’t. They understand us,” she explained with easy confidence, nodding toward Jonathan. “They just sometimes choose not to listen. In that way, they’re really no different than kids,” Erika added. “Except that pets are probably more loyal in the long run.”
“I’m not planning for a ‘long run,’” Lily told the receptionist. “I’m just minding this puppy until his owner turns up to claim him,” she explained. Placing her checkbook on her side of the counter, she opened it to the next blank check, then took out her pen. All the while, Jonathan was tugging on the rope, trying to separate himself from her. “Okay, how much do I make the check out for?” She flashed a somewhat shy smile at the receptionist. “I warn you, it might be slightly illegible.”
Jonathan was tugging on his makeshift leash, desperately wanting to escape from the clinic—and in all likelihood, from her, as well. Legible writing under those circumstances went out the window.
Erika glanced at the paperwork that had just been sent to her computer monitor a moment ago. She looked up at the woman on the other side of her desk. “Nothing,” she answered.
That couldn’t be right. Could the vet really have been serious about not charging her? “For the visit,” Lily prompted.
“Nothing,” Erika repeated.
“But Dr. Whitman saw the dog,” Lily protested.
Erika looked at the screen again.
“Well, he’s not charging you for seeing the dog,” Erika told her. “But now that I look, I see that he does have one thing written down here,” the receptionist informed her, reading the column marked “special instructions.”
Lily could feel her arm being elongated by the second. For a little guy, the Labrador was uncommonly strong in her opinion. She tugged him back. “What?” she asked the receptionist.
Instead of answering her immediately, Erika said, “Just a minute,” and opened the large side drawer. She started rummaging through it. It took her a minute to locate what she was searching for.
“Dr. Whitman wants me to give you this.”
“This” turned out to be not one thing but two things. One item was a small, bright blue braided collar made to fit the neck of a dog just about the puppy’s size and the other was a matching bright blue braided leash.
Erika placed both on the counter in front of Jonathan’s keeper.
“It’s a collar and leash,” Erika prompted when the woman with Jonathan continued just to look at the two items. “Dr. Whitman has a ‘thing’ against ropes. He’s afraid that a pet might wind up choking itself,” she confided.
Given the Labrador’s propensity for dashing practically in two directions at the same time, getting a sturdy leash that wouldn’t bite into his tender throat did make sense to her, Lily thought. She certainly wasn’t about to refuse to accept the collar and leash.
“Okay, so what do I owe you for the collar and leash?” she asked.
The answer turned out to be the same. “Nothing,” Erika replied.
She’d heard of nonprofit, but this was ridiculous. “They have to cost something,” Lily insisted.
All of her life, she’d had to pay, and sometimes pay dearly, for everything she had ever needed or used. Taking something, whether it involved a service that was rendered or an item that was given to her, without the benefit of payment just didn’t seem right to Lily. It also offended her sense of independence.
“Just pennies,” Erika told her. When she looked at the young woman skeptically, the receptionist explained, “Dr. Whitman orders them practically by the crate full. He likes to give them out. Just think of it as a gesture of goodwill,” Erika advised.
What she thought of it as was a gesture of charity placing her in debt, however minor the act seemed to the vet.
Lily tried one last time. “You’re sure I can’t pay you, make a contribution to your needy-dog fund, something?”
“I’m sure,” Erika replied. She pointed to her monitor as if to drive the point home. “It says right here, ‘no charge.’” The woman hit two keys and the printer on the stand behind her came to life, spitting out a hard copy of what was on her monitor. She handed what amounted to a nonreceipt to the puppy’s keeper. “See?” Erika asked with a smile.
Lily took the single sheet of paper. Unable to pay for either the office visit or the two items now in her possession, all she could do was say thank you—which she did.
“No problem,” Erika replied. She got up from her desk and came around to the other side, where the Labrador stood fiercely yanking against the rope.
“Why don’t I put the collar on him while you try to hold him in place?” Erika suggested. “This way, he won’t make a break for it.”
“You’re a godsend,” Lily said with a relieved sigh. She’d been wondering just how to manage to exchange the rope for the collar and leash she’d just been given without having the puppy make a mad dash for freedom.
“No, just an animal clinic receptionist who’s been at it for a while,” Erika corrected modestly.
She had the collar on the puppy and the leash connected to it within a couple of minutes. Only at that point did she undo the rope. The next moment, the rope hung limp and useless in Lily’s hand.
Lily was quick to leave it on the desk.
Standing up, Erika told her, “You’re ready to go.” The words were no sooner out of her mouth than Jonathan made an urgent, insistent beeline for the front door. “I think Jonathan agrees,” Erika said with a laugh. “Here, I’ll hold the door open for you,” she offered, striding quickly over to it.
The instant the door was opened and no longer presented an obstacle, the dog made a break for the outside world and freedom. Lily was nearly thrown off balance as he took her with him.
“Bye!” she called out, tossing the words over her shoulder as she trotted quickly in the dog’s wake, trying hard to keep up and even harder to keep from falling. Jonathan seemed oblivious to any and all attempts to rein him in.
Erika shook her head as she closed the door and went back to her desk. “I give them two weeks. A month, tops,” she murmured to herself.
* * *
The second she and her energetic, furry companion returned to Theresa’s catering shop, Lily found herself surrounded by everyone she worked with. They were all firing questions at her regarding Jonathan’s visit to the new animal hospital. He was the center of attention and appeared to be enjoying himself, barking and licking the hands that were reaching out to pet him.
To her amazement, Lily discovered that of the small band of people who worked for Theresa’s catering company, she was the only one who had never had a pet—if she discounted the two-day period, twenty years ago, during which time she had a live goldfish.
Consequently, while keeping Jonathan out of the kitchen area for practical reasons that in no small way involved the Board of Health’s regulations, the puppy was allowed to roam freely about the rest of the storefront office. As a result, Jonathan was petted, played with, cooed over and fed unsparingly by everyone, including Theresa. He became the company’s mascot in a matter of minutes.
Because