My Inherited House Might be Haunted

Six

Rhett

Not going to lie, I was nervous taking Lucy and Myst to the vet. I wanted them to be okay with every fiber of my being, but I just wasn’t sure about that, considering Myst’s obviously neglected condition. My stomach was in knots when I pulled in to the parking lot.

Myst had clearly been someone’s dog at some point in time because he had no issue loading up in a car. I’d need to search lost pet posts online later but I had a feeling no one was looking for this dog. Not with the state he was in. I didn’t really want an owner to show up, mind you. I was already half in love with this dog, but I felt it was my duty to at least check.

Anyway, I had Lucy in a carrier—she had many, many words to say about this, and while I didn’t speak Cat fluently, I assure you none of those words were clean—and Myst on his leash, and we walked into the vet’s office with me trying to open the door with my butt. Not classy, but it got the job done.

A heavy-set person with a beard, the longest purple nails I’d ever seen on a human being, and bright blue hair pulled up into a high bun greeted me with a professional smile. “Hello, who’s this with you?”

“I’m Rhett. I’ve got a checkup for Lucy and Myst?” I didn’t know why I’d phrased that as a question.

“Oh sure. Which one’s Myst?”

“The dog.”

They pulled up something on the computer screen and typed something out. With those nails. Honestly, no idea how they managed, but it was damn impressive. “All right, I’ve got those names logged in. You just go straight to room one. Someone will be in there in a moment.”

“Sure, thanks.”

Myst didn’t look all too keen on being in here and kept walking closer and closer until he was practically glued to my leg. Poor dog. I didn’t like going to the doctor’s either, so I sympathized.

I set Lucy on the table and kept Myst with me. I barely got settled on the chair when the door opened again and a very large woman in blue scrubs and short, curly blonde hair entered.

“Hello, hello,” she said with a charming German accent. “I’m Doctor Gardener, welcome. I understand we have new babies.”

“Very new babies,” I confirmed. “Lucy—the cat—I found her in my house on my staircase a couple days ago.”

She blinked at me, then laughed. “That’s a new one.”

“Tell me about it. I think the front door blew open and she took advantage, but I have no way of proving it. I do know she and Myst are friends. She alerted me when I was at work to open the back door and then escorted him inside.”

“When was this?”

“Three hours ago.”

“Ha! You live interesting life.”

“Truth. Um, since they were both strays, can you check for a microchip?”

“I can, yes.” She opened the door a crack and called out, “Bring me a scanner!”

Then she closed it and said, “Let’s start with dog first. Hi, Myst. Hi, you good dog?”

Myst, as far as I could tell, didn’t know what “stranger” meant and went right up to her to get love and scratches. Which she obliged. She looked him over but glanced at me. “He’s wet?”

“Myst was absolutely filthy when I met him. I gave him a bath but didn’t have a way of drying him.”

“Ah. He just felt damp, so I wondered. Thank you for washing him. Don’t need more work here.”

“I didn’t want more work for me, either.”

She felt him over, looked in his ears, put her scope against his ribs, and listened for a moment. Then frowned as she leaned back. “He is not in great condition. Bony, malnourished, dehydrated. I’m glad you found him when you did. Let’s start with IV. I’ll give him first round of basic shots today too. Good news is, he does not have ear infections or any signs of illness.”

“I’ll take that good news. What should I do to get him back up to weight?”

“Three small meals a day. Help his body adjust to real food again. I’ll send you home with prescription food.”

I was very grateful for that. “Please and thank you.”

She looked Myst over again, this time with a certain weighing of the eyes. Then looked at his teeth again. “Hmm, I wonder if he was tossed out because he got so big? But he’s not done growing.”

I beg your fucking pardon? “Uh, he’s not full grown?”

“No, no, he’s not even full year old yet. See how feet are too big for body? He’s growing into feet still.”

“Holy Mother.” I looked Myst over and had to wonder. “Just how big is he going to get?”

“He’s Shiloh shepherd, from the look of him. Males generally make it to about one hundred and fifty pounds. Here, let me take leash. I want to weigh him on scale outside.”

“Sure.” I handed over the leash obediently.

Then sat there, head kind of spinning. I’d had dogs before in my life, always the family dog, but they were kind of more on the portable scale. Like, fifty pounds or so. A hundred and fifty pounds of dog was a lot to love. I’d read stories before where people were assured by a breeder that a dog would only get such-and-such size, and then when they realized the dog would be much bigger, abandoned it. I didn’t blame Myst for that. It wasn’t like he was in control of his genetics. I did blame the stupid humans, though.

Well. The house I’d just inherited sat on four lots, so I had a little under an acre that was all fenced in. Plenty of room for Myst to run around and play. Maybe I should invest in a doggy door? If he was a puppy still, I didn’t want accidents.

She came back in, the frown deeper now. “He’s only sixty pounds. Way too light.”

“Damn. I thought he was heavier than that. I guess the fur deceived me.”

“Feed him,” she ordered me. “Three meals a day, plus snacks.”

“You got it.”

The nurse tech came in with a scanner. I held my breath as the scanner was waved all over his head, legs, and neck but there was no beep. Phew. He was my dog now.

Dr. Gardener pulled a treat from her front pocket and gave it to him. “You good boy, Myst. Very good boy. Amanda, take him back for IV and first round of puppy shots. Test for heartworms. Clip his nails, too.”

“Sure.” Amanda the vet tech took the leash and said in a happy voice, “Come on, puppy, come with me. That’s right, come with me.”

Myst hesitated at the door, looking back at me. I urged him on. “Go on, boy. You’ll be back to me in a few minutes.”

Again, I swear the dog understood me as he huffed but went.

“All right, now kitty.” With practiced motions, Dr. Gardener unlatched the top of the carrier and lifted Lucy out.

Lucy did not like this. Lucy hissed at her.

“Oooh, spicy kitty.”

Feeling like I should help, I stood as well and laid a gentle hand on Lucy. “Don’t live up to your name, please. She needs to check you out.”

Lucy gave me a look that said she did not agree.

Dr. Gardener managed to look at her teeth, scan her for a chip—also a negative—and do a general check. She didn’t look happy when Lucy was put on the scale, and I wasn’t really, either. Lucy was seven pounds. That was a little light for an adult cat.

“She, too, needs to eat. Same deal as Myst, okay? I’ll send you home with food.” Dr. Gardener gave her a pet and offered a treat. “You’re a very beautiful kitty.”

Accepting the praise as her due, Lucy took the treat and stopped eyeing the vet like she was contemplating criminal action.

“Overall, she’s in better shape than dog. You said she went to the door to let Myst in? I bet she adopted him. She recognized he’s a puppy. Cats adopt everything.”

“Oh, yeah, I know. I’ve had cats before.”

“Good that you’re experienced owner. I trim nails for you?”

“Please.” I sucked at that. I always trimmed them too short. “Uh, how old would you put her?”

“I say about three years old. Maybe two. But she’s fully adult.”

“Good to know.”

By the time we wrestled Lucy into submission and got her nails trimmed—and trust me, it was a wrestling match, and we scrawny humans barely won—Myst returned. He looked better and worse, with the IV leaving fluid humps in his back. I knew from experience with a past dog that those humps would go down as his body absorbed the fluid.

“He’s an angel,” Amanda assured me. “The calmest dog I’ve ever worked on. He was so good for me, even with all the shots. I did find two ticks on him that I removed, and we shaved some mats under his armpits for free. We’ve got a professional grooming salon attached to the office if you’d like to book an appointment.”

“That sounds great. I bathed him as best I could, but he really needs a pro.”

“Sure thing. You can do that at checkout.”

“Can you microchip them both today?” I didn’t want to put Myst and Lucy through yet another thing, but I also didn’t want to make multiple trips to the vet’s office. Or risk them being lost.

“Sure, sure.”

The microchip was a fat needle, a quick in and out, then I was handed paperwork. Lucy was taken back for shots and tests, returning in a very unhappy mood. I had a feeling she’d be getting her revenge on me over this treatment later. We went over feeding schedules, when they should both be back for round two of the shots, and all of that. I felt much better now that I knew both of them would be fine with a little TLC.

Myst was a puppy still. Wow. I was still trying to wrap my head around that.

I checked out, picked up some locally crafted toys for both dog and cat, accepted the foods given to me, then loaded everyone into the car with one of the vet tech’s help. Thanking her, I loaded in myself and felt like I took the first real breath all day. Not that it had been a bad day, far from it, just hectic.

Although it looked like I scored a dinner date with Calix because of it, so no complaints. I felt cautiously optimistic we might work out and actually date. I hadn’t had a boyfriend in ages, and damn, that man was fine. Anyone would want him.

My phone chimed and I pulled it out. Speak of the devil, it was Calix.

How did vet visit go ?

Awww, he was so sweet to check in on us. I typed back, Mostly healthy, everyone’s okay, just underweight. Myst is a puppy.

Calix: Get out.

Me: I’m not even kidding. Vet said he’s less than a year old and still growing into his feet.

Calix: OMG. How big is he supposed to get ?

Me: Basically twice the size ?

Calix: Shiiiiit.

Me: Yeah, tell me about it. It’s not a bad thing, he’s just going to be a big boy.

Calix: Home security system.

I laughed at that. He wasn’t wrong. No one sane would cross this dog even now, much less when he was fully grown into those large paws of his.

Lucy, sitting in the passenger seat, hissed at me.

“Yes, yes, I’m sorry for dawdling and not taking you home. Forgive me, Princess. I’ll repent and get you home ASAP.” I rolled my eyes at the dramatics. Cats, man.

Still, I had a smile on my face as I started up the car. It had been a very busy day, but you know what? I wouldn’t change a single thing.