Page 4 of Heavy Petting

Dear God, she was one of those nuts who dressed up her pets for holidays.

“I never expected her to run away and get stuck in a hedge. She’s usually so well behaved, but that Doberman was a bad influence.”

Focusing on the little dog instead of its owner’s chatter, I checked its vitals before determining the best way to get the princess costume off the dog. I needed to look at the wound on its midsection and then examine its leg, and I couldn’t do that with fabric in the way.

The dog was shaking violently, although I didn’t yet know if it was from pain or anxiety. Mabel stood on the other side of the table, leaning over to stroke the dog’s head, whispering words of comfort. The position gave me a clear view down the neckline of the dress she wore, and I cursed myself for being a pervert even as I noticed she had lovely breasts. Full and lush.

Then I got another surprise. Using a pair of surgical scissors, I carefully cut away the fabric of the princess costume, then stopped to stare at the dog. I’d seen a lot of strange looking mixed breeds during my career, but Esmerelda was one of the strangest.

From the head up, the dog looked like a classic brown chihuahua, but it had the body of one of the terrier breeds. There was a clear demarcation between the brown chihuahua head and the white fur on the rest of its body. It looked like someone had taken the body of Toto from the Wizard of Oz and attached it to the head of the dog from the Taco Bell commercials.

She was either the ugliest or the cutest dog I’d ever seen, I couldn’t quite decide.

I lowered my head, using a pen light to look at the abrasions around the dog’s midsection where the belt had cut her skin.

“The dress tore off the top layer of skin, kind of like a rug burn. This will need to be cleaned up and you’ll have to apply antibiotics so it doesn’t get infected, but it’s not bad enough to need stitches,” I told Mabel.

“Oh good,” she breathed.

I gently palpated the dog’s leg, noting that the kneecap seemed to not be tracking right. “I’d like to get an x-ray of this leg. It doesn’t appear to be broken, but she might have torn her cranial cruciate ligament.”

“Is that bad?” Mabel asked in alarm.

“It’s basically the same as a human tearing their ACL,” I explained. “If it’s torn, Mabel will likely need surgery, but hopefully it’s just a strain and it will resolve on its own.”

I pressed the button on the phone which let the techs know I needed assistance. Erica must have been close by because she entered the room in less than sixty seconds.

“We need to clean the wound up and get an x-ray of the injured leg,” I told Erica.

“Yes, Doctor.”

Turning my attention back to Mabel I said, “I’d like to put Esmerelda on an IV for a little bit. We can give her some pain meds and also something to calm her down while we treat her, is that okay with you? I can have someone come in and give you an estimate, but you’re probably looking at about six hundred dollars with the x-ray and IV, plus the exam.”

I hated this part of the visit. Medical care was expensive and even if people had pet insurance, it covered substantially less than human insurance did. It was heart-breaking when I saw situations where the owners couldn’t afford to get their pets the care they needed. It led to some difficult choices.

“Of course, anything for Esmerelda.” Mabel stretched her arms out towards the dog. “Whatever she needs.”

That’s when I realized that the dog wasn’t the only one who was injured.

Mabel

“You’re bleeding too.”

I followed the doctor’s eyes to see that there was a long, jagged cut running down the inside of my forearm, blood seeping from the edges. I knew I had scratches, but didn’t realize it was that bad.

“It must have happened when I was digging around in the bushes rescuing Esmerelda,” I said. “Those branches were sharp.”

Now that I realized the cut was there, it hurt like a bitch. It was long and deep, but I didn’t think it needed stitches. I examined the rest of my arm, and then the other one, finding multiple cuts and scratches, some bleeding some not. Fortunately none of them were as bad as the one Hot Vet noticed.

Yes, I knew his name was Dr. Martin but in my mind I was calling him Hot Vet because… well, for obvious reasons. He was a few inches taller than me, maybe six one to my five seven, with broad shoulders and well-defined biceps straining against the sleeves of his navy blue scrubs.

Studying his face, I’d guess he was late forties or early fifties. He kind of reminded me of a middle aged Robert Redford. He had threads of silver showing through some of the strands of his thick, dark blonde hair, and fine lines around his eye and mouth. Those lines only made him look hotter of course. It was so unfair that men could look better as they aged.

Hot Vet had large, almond shaped brown eyes, sensuous lips, and a sharp jawline that I wouldn’t mind running my tongue along. He was the kind of guy that if I saw his picture on a dating app I’d definitely swipe right. Or whatever direction you swiped for “hell yeah, that guy is hot!”. I’d never actually used a dating app, although a couple of my friends had suggested it since my divorce.

They didn’t seem to believe me when I told them that I was perfectly happy being single and planning to remain that way. I wouldn’t be swiping on anyone, not for a long time. Maybe ever.

It was Mabel time. I was focused on rebuilding my life and taking care of my pup, although I hadn’t done too great a job of that today.