The Money Man. Carolyn McSparren
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They prefer dogs when there’s one available. Just hold her, while I take some blood and fecal samples for a workup.”
The dog cowered deeper against him. He put a hand protectively around her head.
Sarah sighed. “I won’t hurt her, I promise. But we need to see whether or not she has heartworm.”
She picked up a needle and syringe. Mark tensed.
“Oh, come on,” Sarah said as she stuck the needle into the flesh of the dog’s neck and drew a vial of dark blood. “See, that wasn’t so bad, was it?” She disappeared from the room for a moment with the vial.
When she came back, she said, “We can get quick results on the heartworm test. In the meantime, give me a hand bathing her. She trusts you. After that, we’ll get the vermin off, trim off all that hair, then we’ll give her another bath—and by that time we may see what kind of a pup we’ve got here.”
“Pup?”
“Probably less than a year old. Mostly Jack Russell terrier would be my guess, but with something furry mixed in. Maybe Lhasa apso or shih tzu. Whatever gave her all this hair, it’s got to go.”
“So do I,” Mark said. “She’s in good hands.”
“No, you don’t,” Sarah said. “She’s your responsibility. Some idiot abandoned her or lost her, and she’s found you. You try to walk out that door, buster, and I will personally lock it and throw away the key.”
“All I did was find her.”
“That’s all it takes. Give me those scissors—we need to cut this collar off her and start cutting some of the worst stuff off before we stick her in the washtub.”
“If she’s lost, we can call her owners.”
“No address on the collar. I’ve got Mabel checking the want ads we keep on the computer—but the dog doesn’t have a registration tag, and I can’t feel a microchip under her skin. There may not be owners looking for her. Somebody may have simply tossed her out with the garbage. People do it all the time.” Sarah’s voice was suddenly hard.
Over the next hour, the pup had a flea and tick bath, and was personally deloused by Sarah—and Mark, at Sarah’s insistence. Then the matted hair was snipped, clipped and shaved. Finally the little dog had another bath, but this time the bathwater was clean and not crimson from her blood.
Jack Renfro stuck his head in the door, as they were toweling the dog off for the second time. “The test says no heartworm. Lucky.”
“Thank God,” Sarah said. “But we’ll give her her shots and start her on dewormer and flea stuff and everything else she needs. Bring me a couple of cans of dog food and a water dish. She’s been damn patient with us, but I suspect she’s starving, and I know she’s dehydrated.”
“Shouldn’t we have fed her first?” Mark asked, rubbing the small head with the towel.
“Judgment call. I wanted to see what we had to work with.”
Mark guessed that Sarah wanted to see whether the little dog was too sick to be saved. He gave a small prayer of thanks that apparently the tiny dog wasn’t.
She was, however, hungry. She devoured a can of food and drank half a bowl of water, while Sarah and Mark looked on, smiling like happy parents.
“She’s really a precious little thing,” Sarah said as she stroked the newly fluffy white head, with its black circles around the eyes and over one ear. “How could anyone toss her out to die like that?”
She glanced up at Mark, who saw tears in her eyes.
“She would have died, you know. If not tonight, then tomorrow or the next day. Run over by a car, eaten by a coyote or a bigger dog. Or she’d have starved to death eventually. It makes me so angry!” Sarah said.
“If the people who owned her couldn’t look after her any longer and couldn’t find a home for her, why wouldn’t they take her to the Humane Society?”
“Because people have this crazy idea that letting an animal, a pet animal like this, out into the world to fend for itself is all right. I would love to throw those people out into a totally unfamiliar environment and see how well they do.”
“Harsh.”
“Not really. We understand what we’re doing. They—” she touched the pup “—don’t.”
“So what happens now? You put her up for adoption?”
Sarah stared at him. “Why? She already has an owner—you.”
“Oh—no, you don’t. I do not have time or room in my life for a dog. She’s probably not housebroken, she’s probably sick, and I’m away all the time.”
“Take her with you. She can stay here during the day if you like, then you take her home at night.”
“Why not let her stay here all the time, and find somebody else to take her?”
As though she understood that her fate was being discussed, the pup wriggled over, sighed, and laid her head on Mark’s gloved hand. Her ragged little rear wagged gently as she closed her eyes.
“There, you see—” Sarah said. “She is your dog. Besides, somebody has to pay for all the treatment we’ve given her—isn’t that what you say, Mr. Scott? If she’s your dog, she’s your responsibility, and you get the bills.”
“Whoa.”
“No whoa. You brought her, you worked with me, you saw what we did. It all costs money—isn’t that what you say? That we have to make money? Well, Mark, you have just spent about two hundred bucks, and by the time I get through loading you up with all the things you’re going to need for her when she goes home with you tonight, you will have spent a bunch more.” She rubbed the pup’s ears. “Sweet baby, Mommy loves a paying client.”
Sarah raised her blue eyes, and batted her eyelashes at him in a parody of sweet innocence.
For a moment he hesitated, then he began to laugh. The pup woke up for a moment to stare at him, then obviously assumed everything was fine and went back to sleep.
“Okay, Doc, I’ll pay the freight. But I still can’t manage a dog.”
“Didn’t you ever have a dog?”
He glanced away. “Yeah, once.”
“I’ll make you a deal. I’m off in about—” Sarah glanced at her watch “—twenty minutes. Good thing it’s been quiet tonight. Dr. Grayson can take over from here. If she needs me, she can page me. I think it’s stopped raining, so we’ll get the pup a new collar and leash. You can take her out to go to the bathroom, while I collect what you’ll need for her. Then I’ll follow you home and help you get set up.”
“What about food? I just realized I haven’t had anything to eat.”
“Me, neither. We can order a pizza. Deal?”
“You, Doctor, are a monster, you know that?”
“Where animals are concerned, you bet. Deal?”
“Yeah, at least for tonight. Deal. And you can order your clippers. After tonight, I realize you do need them. But I’m not agreeing to keep this thing.”
“Thanks. Stay here. I’ll send Mabel in with a collar and leash.” Sarah walked out of the examining room and softly shut the door behind her. “But you will, Mr. Mark Scott,” she murmured to herself smugly. “You will. You’re the proud owner of a dog.” She pumped her arm up and down. “Yes!”
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