Chapter 6: Shadow, Grace, Jack & Fairbanks
As Kaybri walked under the enormous sycamore tree and spotted Frank on his rocker on the porch, she wondered if he had spent the night right there with a tumbler of whiskey in his hand. Fairbanks was still at his feet. There were even more children and pets running across his lawn than there had been the previous day.
“You came here to talk about Kipper’s passing,” Frank said as she stepped onto the porch.
He motioned for her to sit next to him. This time, he poured her a glass of whiskey without asking. The one thing that was different about him was his demeanor. His smile had disappeared, and he looked like he was about to cry.
“I did. It’s awful the way that puppy suffered,” Kaybri responded bitterly. “How did you know he died today?”
Frank ignored her question and continued to rock back and forth. “You know, there’s only one sure way to keep track of time,” he began. “I remember when notable events took place by the dog that was part of my life. My memories can be divided into four wonderful sections named Shadow, Grace, Jack, and Fairbanks. I got married, had kids, and started practicing. Those were the Shadow and Grace years. The practice grew, and then the grandchildren arrived. Those were the Jack and Fairbanks years. Don’t get me wrong, my family is important to me, but for the life of me, I can’t tell you the dates when things happened other than birthdays and my wedding to Dorothy. Each section of my life began when I got my dog and ended when the dog died. You’ll understand one day.”
Kaybri wasn’t sure how to respond. She already understood. Most of her deepest connections had been with the dogs she had tended to at the residence. Marshmallow had been her primary companion, but there had been various strays as well that she had gotten attached to. When Kaybri moved out of the residential home to attend college on a scholarship, she was allowed to take Marshmallow with her. He was quite old by that time. He died just before she started vet school. It was the most painful loss she had experienced since her mother left.
“Finn Atkins called me,” Frank said, now that he was finished with his reflections. “He was understandably upset. Tell me what happened.”
Kaybri took a sip of whiskey. “Dehydrated, respiratory distress, renal failure, anemia, and brittle bones. There is no conceivable way that a puppy should have those issues. Hell, when I was in school, I rarely saw even a senior dog display that combination of symptoms.”
“There might be another reason he was upset. I believe you told him that Kipper might be better off dead.”
“I didn’t use those words.
‘What did you say?”
“I think I said that there was no hope.”
“This is a good lesson. The grief owners feel when they lose a dog is profound. You must be careful what you say. You can’t afford to alienate your customers, especially at the time when they need empathy. I’d like you to reflect on what I’m saying. Autumn pulled you out of the fire. I calmed Finn down even more when he called me.”
“But I didn’t mean to…”
“I know. What makes our profession rewarding and horrifying is when our customers’ emotions are raw. We can’t fix everything, but we have to be the friend they need when their companion is dying and the owner is at their most vulnerable. We are both veterinarian and counselor. It’s a tough profession.”
Kaybri was rattled. Dealing with people was her weakness. She walked away and wandered around on the lawn by one of the flower gardens to consider what Frank had said and to think about the information Autumn and Noah had collected. During the last three years, sixteen dogs had died before they had turned a year old, an average of about five per year. Nothing was clear-cut when it came to why young dogs died or needed to be euthanized. Even reputable breeders faced uncertain outcomes. Cancer, hip dysplasia, and thyroid conditions were common in retrievers. Mastiffs, Kaybri knew, were prone to neurological disorders. Some smaller breeds, like pugs, suffered from breathing issues. Regardless of these statistical trends, those conditions rarely emerged in dogs younger than one. To have sixteen fatalities during a three-year span was extraordinary.
When Kaybri returned to the porch, Frank was waiting for her with a question. “What did Noah say?”
“He said that Kipper is what Amish puppy mills produce.” Kaybri could see the anguish in Frank’s eyes.
“He would know better than anyone.”
“Why is that?”
“Noah has a fascinating story. He was born Amish, and his family operates a puppy mill,” Frank said without judgment.
“What? Are you serious?” Noah had shown the dogs and their owners nothing but compassion. When her shock dissipated, she pushed Frank for more information. “How did he end up working for you? Doesn’t his family history disqualify him from working with dogs?”
“First of all, Noah was born into that life. It wasn’t like he had a choice,” Frank said evenly. “He was a teenager when he fled his family farm. It takes a lot of courage to leave your religion, your community, your parents, and your brothers and sisters. He came to me because he wanted to atone for what his family was doing and because he loves animals. He has devoted his life to healing sick and injured dogs. You should talk to him. He’ll tell you his story.”
Kaybri’s tone softened. “Why would he trust me with his story?”
“Because he’s watched you for the last two days. He knows you’re as passionate about saving dogs as he is.”
“How do you know that?”
“He lives here,” Frank said with a laugh. “This has been his home for ten years. He’s like a son to Dorothy and me. We have dinner every night, and we talk.”
“About me?” Kaybri eyed Frank warily.
“Don’t be so self-absorbed. Mostly we talk about current cases. His experiences on his family’s farm have made him invaluable. He’s seen some horrific crap that we seldom witness.” Frank poured another two fingers of bourbon into his glass. “Tell me how the staff cared for the Atkins family.”
“They’ve only had the puppy for a few months. Their twin girls are devastated.” Kaybri paused and thought about what had transpired in her office and what she had read in the dog’s file. “You knew.”
“That Kipper would eventually die? Not as fast as he did. But I was sure he would. Finn came to the clinic to talk to me about getting the family a dog. I asked him to seek out reputable breeders. I know Autumn gave him a list. Their situation is too common. The family goes to a pet shop or to a shelter and they fall in love with the first dog they see. The parents don’t want to say no to their kids even if the dog doesn’t look well.” Frank took another sip and stroked Fairbanks’s head before returning his attention to Kaybri. “Tell me what happened this afternoon.”
“Kipper couldn’t hold on until the family arrived. Fred, Hillary, and the girls came to the clinic after school. Autumn took them on a tour of the facility so they could see recovering dogs. Noah met them in the kennel, and he let the girls hold some dogs so that they could feel the warmth and energy of healthy ones. Then we brought them into the treatment room to say goodbye to Kipper. They had wrapped him in a special towel embroidered with his name.”
“Nice touch. It’s something that Autumn started doing a few years ago.”
“They shed a lot of tears, and Noah and Autumn did a lot of hand holding. Noah invited the girls to do volunteer work next week under his supervision. You’ve trained the staff well. They did everything they could to make the family and Kipper’s passing feel special.”
“Thank you. I appreciate you saying that. Did the girls agree to come back?”
“Yes.”
“Don’t ever underestimate the importance of closure. Even though they only had Kipper for a brief time, he colored their lives. The memory of Kipper and what he endured will change them as people. As much as we are repulsed by what happened, at least we can rest assured there will be two young people who will now be advocates for dogs.”
“You make it sound like there’s something good to be learned from Kipper’s death. You should have told Finn Atkins that Kipper came from a puppy mill.”
“I can’t.” Frank’s face saddened. “I made a pact with the devil.”
“What are you talking about?”
Kaybri reflexively reached for Fairbanks.
“I decided thirty years ago to take the damaged dogs when they couldn’t breed anymore. Some of the Amish breeders agreed to give me the dogs so that I could treat and rehabilitate them. If I told Finn Atkins, or anyone else, that their puppy came from a puppy mill, the Amish would suspect that I was the source. Then they would stop sending me the dogs. I made a choice. I chose to save the elderly damaged dogs at the expense of the puppies. I feared what the farmers would do with the older dogs when they could no longer breed. They agreed to send them to me.”
As Kaybri took all of this in, she didn’t know if she was disappointed in Frank or proud of him. “Some people might suggest you made the wrong decision,” she said tentatively. “That you should have tried to shut the mills down.”
Frank shook his head. “I would have if I thought there was a chance they’d stop. Organizations such as the Humane Society and ASPCA have tried. They found that the Amish would simply move their operations to another farm. As I told you yesterday, there are thousands of farms. Trying to find the ones that are breeding dogs is like finding a needle in a haystack. If one is discovered, it won’t be there a day or two later when the state authorities arrive.”
“You could have at least tried.”
“We all must atone for something in our lives. Letting families bring poorly bred dogs into their lives with all the sadness that follows is my cross to bear.” Frank emptied his glass, closed his eyes, and leaned his head against the back of his chair. “This job will burn you out. You need to find ways to channel your anger. My relief comes in a bottle. I don’t suggest you follow my lead. You won’t have puppies born at the clinic every day to lighten the mood.”
“How do you know…”
“Autumn called me. She thought I’d like to hear the good news.”
"I don’t think Autumn likes me anymore,” Kaybri said. “It had to happen sooner or later. I guess it happened sooner.”
“No. She is my friend, and she is your friend too. They all will be your dearest friends within a few months if you let them.” Frank paused to let the full meaning sink in. “What do Tandy and Ethan plan to do with Linny’s puppies?”
“I think they’re going to put them up for sale.”
“Would you mind if I give Ethan a call? Maybe I can talk him into having two of the puppies find their way to the Atkins home.”
“He can get a lot of money for those puppies.”
“He doesn’t need the money. When I tell him what those girls went through, he’ll race right over with those puppies to their house. Finn Atkins will appreciate the kindness, and it will ease the pain he’s feeling at having to pay the bill you gave him today. I think I’ll tell him it was your idea.”
"Oh, so you’re going to give me a makeover into the kind, saintly person that I most certainly am not!”
Frank laughed uproariously. “Not quite. Lancaster has grown a lot since I first moved here, but it’s still a small town. You’re now part of that fabric. The Atkinses and the Danzigs will remember what you and I did for them. And speaking of community relations, you’ll want to have a booth at the county fair in the fall. It’s become a tradition for people to bring their dogs to the fair for everyone to see and for the dogs to interact.”
“Will you help me at the booth?”
“I’ll be here to help you for as long as I can.”
What Kaybri did next seemed to come from someone other than her. She gave Frank a kiss on the cheek. She surprised herself as she wasn’t at all inclined toward displays of affection. Her first thought was that it might have been unprofessional or inappropriate. But the man had opened his heart and his practice to her. She also recognized an ominous note in the way he had said, “for as long as I can.”
But Frank did not seem to think the gentle kiss inappropriate. He took her hand in his and looked into her eyes. He appeared both happy and sad at the same time. “There is some good that comes from a dog’s death,” he said softly, almost in a whisper. “The immense sadness we experience when they die teaches us humility. It also reminds us of our own mortality. Their deaths also remind us as professionals that there is a lot we do that isn’t scientific. Next time, make sure it’s you who is holding the owners’ hands.”