Lexi
By the time we pulled into the emergency vet clinic, you could just imagine the faintest brightening of the eastern sky. The building looked the same as it had the night we’d stumbled in half-panicked, except now I was apparently responsible for Ginger, and that felt like a much bigger choice than I’d had time to process.
Dusty was at the front desk, exactly where he’d been the last time we’d visited. He blinked at us as we strolled in the door with Ginger. “Whoa. You guys again.”
“Yep,” Basia said. “But we didn’t bring any bad guys this time.”
Dusty leaned over the counter and grinned at Ginger. “Hey, girl. You look way better than last time.”
Ginger wagged like she remembered him personally.
Dusty pointed a finger at Barbie, who was holding Tootsie in her arms. “But you two are new.”
“We’re just tagging along for the fun of it,” Barbie said cheerfully, and we all smiled.
Dr. Partridge appeared from the back a minute later, coffee in hand, expression calm and kind in a way that immediately lowered my blood pressure by several points.
“You’re back,” she said gently. “That’s a good sign. Come fill me in.”
We all squeezed into an examination room, and I gave her a sanitized, brief version of the lab story, minus the hacking and the Barbie-breaking-in part. Her expressions ranged from disbelief to anger.
“Well, then, let’s take a look at her,” she said when I finished. “Come on, Ginger. Time to get you an X-ray.”
Ginger trotted out of the room after the vet, completely at ease. We followed, standing in the doorway while Dusty helped Dr. Partridge lift and position Ginger on the table. Once Ginger was comfortably lying down, Dr. Partridge angled the X-ray machine where she wanted it.
“What a good girl you are,” she said, patting Ginger gently. “I’ve never met a dog so calm and sweet.”
Dr. Partridge took the image, and it popped onto the screen a few minutes later. The chips were easily visible. Two small shapes. There were also faint wires running into parts of Ginger’s brain.
Dr. Partridge pointed at the smaller chip. “That one’s a standard identification microchip. Totally normal placement. Standard microchips aren’t often removed. There’s simply no medical reason to do so. We simply update the owner’s information in the software on the manufacturer’s website. It’s safer and less invasive for the dog.”
I brightened at that. “Software? Can you tell me which manufacturer is on Ginger’s chip?”
“Sure.” Dr. Partridge walked over to her computer, pulling up the site for me. “Usually, the manufacturer requires proof of voluntary surrender or imposes a waiting period. If the original owner doesn’t respond after notification, ownership automatically transfers.” She wrote down the manufacturer’s name on a piece of paper and handed me. “That part may be tricky for you given the circumstances. The lab might not be willing to give her up or may try to drag things out.”
I smiled. “Trust me, transferring Ginger’s ownership will be the easy part. That second chip and those wires…that’s what worries me.”
She blew out a breath and pointed to it on the X-ray. “I understand why. I’ve never seen anything like this. Surgically, I could remove this chip. But, honestly, I don’t know what it is. I don’t know how it’s anchored, or what it’s connected to, or even what it does. Furthermore, see all these wires in her brain? Again, I don’t know their purpose. Removing unknown hardware carries a huge risk to Ginger. Nerve damage, bleeding, complications under anesthesia, and other things I might not have considered. It might be fine, but it might not. Right now, it doesn’t appear to be harming her. My recommendation as a vet is to leave it be.”
I looked over at Ginger, still peacefully lying on the X-ray table, trusting me to make the right decision. The idea of putting her through a surgery we didn’t fully understand made my stomach twist. Fortunately, I’d already fixed the GPS issue, so that the lab, investors, or anyone else would never be able to track her again.
“I accept your recommendation. We don’t remove it,” I said. “Not right now, anyway.”
The vet nodded. “I think that’s a very wise decision.” She walked over to Ginger and patted her gently on the head. “Well,” she said softly into Ginger’s fur, “you’re a very lucky girl.”
Ginger wagged like she knew.
Dr. Partridge straightened and looked at all of us. “You guys should know, I haven’t had this much excitement in years. If this is what your visits are like, you’re welcome back anytime. Or at least keep me updated on this sweet girl. I’d like to know how this story turns out.”
“We’ll send pictures,” Gwen promised.
I squeezed the vet’s hand. “Thank you, Dr. Partridge. For everything.”
“That’s what we’re here for,” she said simply.
We all loaded back into Gray’s SUV. Ginger circled twice in my lap and collapsed with a satisfied sigh like she’d reached the final level of comfort. The engine turned over and we rolled out of the parking lot.
Gray glanced at me in the rearview mirror. “Lexi, I’m surprised you let that second GPS chip go so easily.”
