Chapter 4: The Dog Whisperer
Even though the clinic didn’t start seeing patients until eight, Kaybri arrived at six a.m. on Tuesday. She loved the quiet of the morning, the dew on the grass, and treating the recuperating dogs even if she didn’t agree with how they had arrived at the clinic.
She entered the rear of the complex, where the dogs that needed extended care or had been abandoned were boarded. There was one blind golden retriever that drew her attention. According to the records, it had been dropped off almost three weeks earlier. It was still very thin and listless despite the care it had been receiving.
Kaybri was about to open the door of its kennel, when Noah shouted from the other side of the yard, “Whoa, whoa, whoa.”
“What am I, a horse?” Kaybri asked with a smile.
“You should be so lucky,” Noah said, chuckling.
“I was hoping to examine this one,” Kaybri said, pointing to the retriever.
“Not yet. She’s aggressive. Why don’t you put on some protective gear?”
“That bad? Should we sedate her?”
“I don’t think so.”
Noah brought out a protective padded sleeve for her arm and helped her position it correctly.
“From the look of her, I wouldn’t expect she’d have the energy to be aggressive,” Kaybri said.
“In her twenty days here,” Noah said as he checked the chart, “she’s had good food. Clean water. Medicine for her infections. Physical therapy and cold laser treatments. Warm human contact. It all adds up. Dogs are no different than children. Give them a little care, kiss their wounds, and they usually bounce back.”
“You’ve done good work, Noah,” Kaybri said earnestly.
“Thank you. However, we're far from finished. If we can’t socialize her, we can’t place her in a foster home.” Noah came closer to the cage, but not so close as to scare the blind dog. Slowly, he opened the door. “Stay in front of her. Let her bite the padding and then soothe her with your other arm. She’ll let go. It takes her a few minutes to learn she isn’t being assaulted. A warm, caring touch is something she’s never known.”
Exactly as Noah had predicted, the dog clamped down on the padded arm, which gave Kaybri a chance to see the few teeth the dog had left.
“Any sign of infection?” Noah asked.
“A little. She’s reacting well to the antibiotics. She will, however, need thousands of dollars in dental work.” Kaybri stroked the dog’s head and back and examined her torso. The golden was dramatically underweight, and what should have been a radiant coat had been shaved away.
“Why was she shaved so thoroughly?” Kaybri asked. “There’s barely any fur on her.””
“There’s only so much that can be done when they haven’t had a bath their entire lives. You don’t want me to tell you what was living in her coat,” Noah replied.
“Yeah, I’d rather not hear about it right now.” Kaybri knew it was best to pace herself when it came to hearing unpleasant things that would only upset her.
“Okay, now, reach underneath her and slowly lift. She can hold herself steady and walk ten or twenty steps before she needs to rest.”
Kaybri reached under the dog’s torso. The process was awkward for the dog and difficult for Kaybri to watch. Within a few seconds, the dog was standing upright and let go of the padded arm. Kaybri and Noah gave each other a satisfied nod.
“Should we let her go for a walk in the yard?” Kaybri asked. She suddenly felt a surge of optimism that the dog would make it after all, that there was a happy future in store for her.
“Can’t hurt,” Noah said.
In the yard, the dog’s first few steps were tentative. Eventually, she lowered her head and began to sniff, no doubt getting lots of information about the other creatures who had walked the grounds and left their mark. To Noah and Kaybri’s surprise, the golden began wagging her tail. When she lifted one eyebrow, then the other, an endearing gesture of this breed, Kaybri couldn’t help but let out a whoop of delight.
“We should give her a name,” she said, smiling.
“Don’t get too attached, doc. It’s too early,” Noah said. “I’ve had some experience with abused dogs.”
“Whether I’m too attached or not, she’s a dog and she needs a name,” Kaybri said. “How about Pumpkin?”
“Pumpkin is a fine name for a golden with an orange coat.”
Kaybri couldn’t tell if Noah approved or if he was poking fun at her lack of originality.
Together, they led the newly christened Pumpkin back to her kennel and coaxed her inside, telling her again and again what a good dog she was.
When Pumpkin was settled, Kaybri turned to Noah, intending to thank him. It was at that second, as she looked into his eyes, that she noticed his curly dark lashes and big brown eyes. Somehow that made her forget what she was going to say, so she turned away.
“Kaybri. Dr. Lynn. Is it okay if I go check on some of our other patients now?”
Kaybri was startled to hear him address her as Dr. Lynn. She was not sure if it was in jest. Just then she remembered she had a question for him that she had been thinking about most of the night. “What do you know about the Amish and their puppy mills?”
His reaction took her by surprise. His smile disappeared and his whole body seemed to contract. Without a word, he turned and walked to the rear portion of the complex that housed dogs. The good feelings that had built up between them as they’d cared for Pumpkin evaporated in seconds. While she didn’t know why her question had so offended him, she knew she couldn’t afford to lose him. She couldn’t expect to find someone with his talents in a hundred years. She didn’t have any idea what to do next to make it all okay.
And then it occurred to her that Frank would probably be able to shed some light on the situation. She’d need to make another visit to his and Dorothy’s home. Dorothy had said she was family now. She pictured the children and animals in the yard and the warmth exuded by Frank and Dorothy, and it gave her a gooey kind of feeling inside.
She texted Frank:
Can I stop by for a visit at 6?
This time she would be sure to accept the whiskey.