Ladies' Night by Andrews, Kay (find a book to read TXT) 📗

Grace looked down at the little brown dog, huddled under the swaddling of beach towel. “But you’re a good girl, aren’t you, sweetie?”

The girl had been typing on the computer. She looked up. “That’s her name, Sweetie?”

“Uh, sure,” Grace agreed. It was as good a name as any.

“It’s slow right now,” the girl said, clicking over to another page of her computer. “I think Dr. Katz can see her pretty soon. Can you wait?”

“The vet’s name is Dr. Katz?” Grace suppressed a giggle. “Really?”

The girl rolled her eyes. She’d heard it all before. “Really. How did you want to pay today?”

Grace hesitated. “Cash, I guess.”

“You can sit over there,” the receptionist said, pointing to a chair. She held out her arms and Grace handed the dog over, towel and all. “It’s okay now, Sweetie,” the girl said softly. She reached into a glass jar on the counter and gave the dog a biscuit, which she eagerly snapped up. Then she disappeared behind a swinging door.

Grace sat in a hard vinyl chair and read a magazine about schnauzers. She hadn’t realized there was so much to say about schnauzers, but apparently there was. On the opposite side of the waiting room, an elderly lady cradled a pet carrier in her lap. A huge tabby cat nearly filled the thing, its tail sticking out through the wire-mesh door.

Thirty minutes later, the receptionist was back at the desk. “Sweetie Davenport?” she called.

Grace suppressed a giggle. It was as though she’d acquired a new baby sister. “Yes?” she said, standing.

“Dr. Katz is back with Sweetie, in examining room one,” she said. “You can go back and talk to her.”

The veterinarian was a compact blond woman, in her late forties. She wore a short white lab coat that had silk-screened cartoon images of dogs and cats on it.

Sweetie was lying on a stainless steel examining table, and the vet held one hand on her back, slowly stroking her fur. When the dog spotted Grace, her stubby brown tail beat a tattoo on the table.

“Hi there,” the vet said, nodding at Grace. “You’ve got a very good little girl here. She let me examine her, and she didn’t make as much as a squeak.”

“Is she okay?” Grace asked.

“A little deyhydrated,” Dr. Katz said. “And she’s got an intestinal parasite, and some wounds on her paws, which are infected.”

Grace felt her throat tighten with anger. “The people who owned her, they just left her, locked in a bedroom of the house they’d been renting, and took off. She’d apparently been trying to dig her way out. We don’t know how long she’d been there when the landlord found her today.”

“It happens,” Dr. Katz said, ruffling Sweetie’s fur. “I’m sorry to tell you we see all kinds of cruelty to animals. It’s upsetting, but not unusual.”

“What can you do for her?”

“I’d like to keep her overnight. Put her on some IV fluids and get her started on antibiotics,” the vet said. “We don’t have any idea of her medical history, but given the fact that she was abandoned in this condition, I think we should assume she’s never had any shots. We’ll give her parvo and rabies shots, and start her on worm meds. And,” she added, “give her a good flea dip.”

“Right,” Grace said. She hesitated. “Look,” she said, her cheeks flaming with shame. “I’m in the middle of a divorce, and right now I just don’t have a lot of money. I’m living with my mother, and getting a dog was the last thing I’d planned. How much will all this cost?”

Dr. Katz put a hand on her sleeve. “Don’t worry too much about that. Let us work on Sweetie a couple days. We’ll call you Wednesday and let you know what time you can pick her up. We do have a special rate for people rescuing strays, and we can always work out a payment plan, if need be. Does that sound all right?”

“Yes,” Grace said. “Thank you! I’ll be honest with you. I’ve never owned a dog, and wasn’t looking for one. But I couldn’t just leave her there and let her be dropped off at the dog pound.”

“Good for you,” Dr. Katz said.

“Can you tell me anything about her?” Grace asked. “Like what breed she is, or how old?”

Dr. Katz continued to stroke Sweetie’s head. “She’s no puppy. Judging by her teeth, I’d say she’s probably at least four years old. It’s hard to tell without doing DNA testing, but I feel confident that she’s got a good bit of toy poodle in her, maybe some cocker spaniel, too. Considering what she’s been through, she’s surprisingly calm and docile. Once we get her feeling better, she’ll make you a loyal, adoring little buddy.”

Grace’s eyes rested on Sweetie’s big brown ones. She could have sworn the dog was grinning at her.

“And Grace?”

“Yes?”

“I think she’s housebroken! I was examining her, and she started to whimper, so we took her out to the dog run, and she did her business right away.”

Now Grace returned Sweetie’s smile. “Thanks, Dr. Katz. That’s the first good news I’ve heard today.”

22

She spent Tuesday working in the bar and fuming over Ben’s sabotage of her blog. But early Wednesday morning, Grace bounded down the stairs to the bar, her camera bag in hand.

Rochelle had the blender going, whipping up an evil-looking green concoction. She shut it off, poured the sludge in a glass, and sipped, all the while taking in Grace’s work ensemble, which consisted of a pair of thrift-store jeans, oversized T-shirt, and cheap tennis shoes. “No run this morning?”

“Nope,” Grace said, unable to suppress a grin. “I’ve got an actual job.” She poured herself a mug of coffee and snagged a banana from the fruit bowl on the bar back.

“Is that so?”

“Yup.”

“How’d you get this job? Where is it? What’s it pay?”

Grace couldn’t remember when she’d been this excited at the prospect of working for free.

“You won’t believe it, Mom,” she said. “When I