The Dog Days of Summer - Lucy
“Dr. McVeigh.”
I look up from my research and realize I’m late for my afternoon appointments. After referring a tough case to the oncology specialist, I still couldn’t let it go.
Someone once told me I would never remember all of my patients. But I do. These cases keep me up at night. More than is healthy. This German Shepherd came into this same clinic as a nine-week-old puppy, before vet school, when I was a vet tech. I sigh. Full circle, but still painful to see.
“Hey, Grace. Sorry, I’ll be in there in a second.”
“Oh. That’s not it. Remember the hot guy? The one with the 14-year-old golden we put down two weeks ago?”
Of course, I remember him. That man is the reason my vibrator needed to be replaced. Yes, terrible of me. After losing his pet, I chose to objectify him.
“Vaguely,” I lie.
“You lie.”
“You know me too well.” Grace is one of the techs who worked with me when I started at the clinic. “Why is he here today?”
“Another senior dog.”
“Oof. Scheduled euthanasia?” I ask.
“Yes.”
Euthanasia is probably the kindest thing we can do for our pets, but even knowing that, the owner goes home alone. I imagine the loss of two senior pets back-to-back—poor guy.
“Are you assisting on this one?” Grace is the tech with the best bedside manner through euthanasia. It’s strange to say it’s a skill, but many owners send her personal thank-yous.
“I’ll be right there with you, Doc.”
“Let’s go.”
I knock at the door.
“Come in.”
“Mr. Stone?” I ask, taking in the energy of the room. A large dog lies on the floor, giving a limp wag of its tail.
“Charlie, please.”
“Charlie. What’s going on with Bones?”
“He stopped eating, and I couldn’t get his pain meds in him. To be honest, I think he’s ready.”
My assessment of Bones is in line with Charlie’s. I watch as Bones tries to greet me. “It’s okay, boy. I can come to you.”
“Is there any special treat you want to give Bones for his last meal? Something he’s always tried to steal off the counters?”
“Hmm. I’m not sure. I adopted him only last week.”
Grace and I both stare. “Last week?” Grace squeaks.
“Yes. I’m on speed dial at the shelter. Bones came to them when his owner passed away. I take all the senior dogs, as long as I have space.”
Before he says that, I thought he was the most attractive man on the planet. I am now low-key in love. As he strokes Bones’ head and talks softly to him, I melt. I have a reputation for being able to wall off emotions, but something about a man who purposely adopts senior dogs—it does me in.
“Well, we have some treats available if you want to try. Everything from peanut butter to whipped cream. We even have chocolate.”
“Dogs can’t have chocolate,” he says, and then after a pause, “Oh, never mind. Let him have chocolate.”
“I’ll make him a plate of goodies.” Grace exits the exam room, leaving me to handle a final exam and draw up the medications.
“Do you have any other pets at home?” I ask.
“Just Bones right now. You were with me a couple of weeks ago when I said goodbye to Goofy.”
“How long did you have Goofy?”
“Six months. He was an owner surrender when they got a new puppy.”
I fucking hate people.
“Hey, Bones, we’re going to give you the best treats you’ve ever had, and then we’re going to give you medicine that makes all the pain go away.” I look at Charlie when I say the last part. “Once he’s asleep, we will give him the medicine that stops his heart.”
Tears form in the corners of Charlie’s eyes and drip down his cheeks.
“You know, I know the drill. I’ve done this a few times, but man—it never gets easier.”
When Grace arrives back in the exam room, we focus on Bones and give him one hell of a send-off party. The dog that wouldn’t eat this morning ate chocolate cake and my leftover burger from lunchtime.
Grace walks Charlie to the front door, and I watch as he sighs heavily before leaving the clinic on foot.
Later, I make one more call to check in on Buddy the Labrador to see how he made out after consuming two pounds of butter.
“How’s Buddy?”
“He’s absolutely fine. You wouldn’t know he’s supposed to feel terrible,” his owner says with a wry laugh. Buddy is a frequent flyer, and I’ve induced vomiting in him a few times before. He was also on a watch after he ate a sock or two.
Labradors—one of the best dogs out there, if only they could resist eating shit that is potentially lethal.
“That’s good to hear. If anything changes, please let us know. We’ll be gone for the night. Do you have the information for the emergency clinic?”
“I do. Thank you, Doc.”
Hanging up the phone, I look through any last-minute calls and clear my messages before the weekend. While we had someone on-call, we mostly triage to emergency clinics on the weekend.
“Any big weekend plans?” Grace asks as we close the clinic for the night. As the last doctor on duty, I had to wait until all surgical patients had gone home for the night. With one of the pet owners stuck in traffic, Grace and I sit and wait.
“Maybe try the new Thai place. But outside that, I plan to bring a book to the beach and rot. How about you?”
“The new guy I’m seeing invited me to his lake house in New Hampshire.”
Grace went through a nasty divorce the year before, and so far, this guy is making up for everything she went through. “Excuse me. Hopefully, this means you won’t have time to read.”
“Hopefully it means I’ll be sore on Monday.”
When was the last time I had a weekend that excited me? Oh, never mind, everything with Cole had been fake. I shake off the memory; the last thing I need is to wallow in the past or live with regrets.