“He needs the shots if I’m going to keep walking him, and he’s legally required to get the rabies shot,” she informs me from the counter, her arm being pulled by the dog.
I put my hand out under the chairs. He sniffs it and gives me a tiny lick. His ears lift for a second but then flatten back down when another dog barks. His fur is soft between my fingers, but I can feel his entire body vibrating and his racing heart. How fast do dogs’ hearts beat? Is he going to die of fear?
A tech in hospital scrubs comes around the counter and leads us into a waiting room. It’s small with a metal table in the center, and the whole room smells too clean. It’s unsettling. The tech oohs and ahhs over how sweet and cute he is. At this point she’s stating facts.
“Is he going to be okay?” I ask
The tech opens her mouth, but Jenny puts her hand on mine and replies.. I don’t hear the answer because I’m struck by how warm and soft her hand is. And there’s absolutely no burning feeling in my belly as a result. Nope. I’ll ignore that. It’s not real.
But she keeps her hand on mine while the tech continues to check on the dog, who keeps whimpering and shaking. His whole body is still but quivering at the same time. She’s whispering sweet words to him, but it’s not getting through. He keeps looking between Jenny and me, like we’re the only ones who can save him.
A door on the other side of the room opens, and the vet walks in. He has the most punchable face I’ve ever seen—puffy blond hair, green eyes, kinda looks like a rejected superhero, but in real life. Worst of all, he lights up when he sees Jenny. Not the dog. And he doesn’t even look at me.
His lips curl into a smug grin. “Hey, Jenny. I like the new hair.”
She swallows but keeps her focus on Kingston. “Thanks.” There’s an iciness to her voice I heard yesterday when she was yelling at me. But this isn’t anger—more like she’s keeping a protective barrier up between them.
He reaches for Kingston, and the dog scrambles away, slipping off the metal table. The fuckboy doctor grabs my dog before he hits the ground, but a loud, blood-curdling scream escapes from Kingston. It sounds like a woman being murdered, and it’s the worst sound I’ve ever heard.
“What the fuck did you do to my dog!”
And it isn’t a one and done scream but constant and louder than the last. There’s pain and fear in each cry.
Completely ignoring me, the vet puts Kingston on the table. I’m about to reach for my gun and blow this motherfucker’s head off, but my dog lifts his head toward me and won’t put down his back leg.
Instead of killing the vet, which I should, I scoop my little twenty-pound dog in my arm, rubbing the leg that he won’t put down.
Jenny wraps her arm under mine. “Klee Kai’s have a hip that sometimes pops out of place. It’s painful and scary, but if you can push it back into place, he’ll be fine.”
Kingston struggles against my chest, and I bury my head in his fur, making soft circles on his hip. The joint clicks, but he’s still shrieking. “Shh. You’re scared and hurt, but it’s going to be ok,” I whisper to him, holding him close. When I was ten, some neighborhood guys kicked the shit out of me, for reasons I still don’t understand. But Nonna found me, pressed an ice cube wrapped in cloth against my forehead and let me cry. She told me I was a good kid my mom would be proud of and didn’t deserve this pain. Twenty years later I’m telling my dog, “You’re such a good boy. Best boy, it’s okay to be scared, I’m right here.”
His shrieks slow, with longer breaks before the next one starts. He tries to lower his foot down on the table but doesn’t trust it. It hovers over the surface before gently touching the ground and lifting back up again. He tests it a few more times; his screeching slows down.
“I’m proud of you.” Words I wish I had heard growing up but feel honest.
He finally puts his foot down completely, and the howling stops. His ears perk, and his mouth opens—he’s smiling. That’s my little guy.
“I’m sorry about that.” Fuckboy Vet looks like he’s seen death come within inches of him. Then I realize he sees my gun, and yeah, his assumptions are correct. I haven’t taken a trip out to the pig farm recently, but for this asshole, it might be worth it.
There’s a squeeze on my arm, and I remember Jenny and the tech are there. I point my finger in the vet’s face. “You never fucking touch my dog again.”
The tech steps beside the vet. “We need to take him in the back and give him his shots and finish the checkup.” She pets his head, and his tail is still flat, but not wrapped under his body like it was a moment ago. “I’ll take him back.” At least she didn’t try to kill my dog. I loosen my grip on Kingston.
Jenny squeezes my arm again and steps forward. “Thank you.”
The nurse lifts Kingston, who whines, and carries him in the back, leaving me, Jenny, and the vet, who opens his mouth to speak.
“No. You don’t get to talk. Not to me, not to her, and never to my dog again.” In a low growl, I utter, “Go.”
The vet swallows and nods before heading into the back.
Jenny takes in a big breath and continues to hold my arm. “The thing about Klee Kais is, they are very melodramatic like Huskies. He was scared, and you did everything right.” She rests her head on my shoulder and my stomach flips. “You’re a good boy, I’m proud of you.”
“Are you making fun of me?” The emotions are far too raw.
“No. I am proud of you.” Her voice is sweet and honest.
Kingston barks from the back office, and finally he returns, but something is wrong. A stench of shit and death and concentrated evil fills the room. “Klee Kais also release their anal glands when they're scared or angry,” Jenny whispers.
