I close down the screams in my head and try to stay calm. ‘Okay, Cress, your pants are nowhere to be found in the flat, Diesel’s flat out and moaning, what’s thelogicalconclusion?’ One thing’s for sure, Clemmie didn’t cover this in her manual of instructions.
I’m breaking out in a sweat as I perch on the sofa arm and pull out my phone. I open Google and type ‘dog eating panties’. There’s are loads of opinions, all coming to similar conclusions:
Dogs that ingest underwear are at risk of blockage of their digestive tract or intestines.
The groan I let out as I read that is louder than Diesel’s. I skim further down the page.
If in doubt, call your veterinarian.
Wouldn’t it just say that? But I can’t afford to put my personal preferences in front of Diesel’s health and wellbeing. He’s not as young as he was and gastric blockages aren’t great at any age. My chest constricts as I follow that thought.What if he dies?
I mustn’t get ahead of myself. All I have to do is ring Ross. As I press call, and wait for a connection, I’m staring out of the French windows into the darkness, counting the string of lights around the bay, praying that he answers. I get to three when I hear his voice.
‘Cressy?’
I’m so relieved, the words come tumbling out. ‘It’s Diesel, he’s eaten my lacy Brazilian knickers…’
There’s a beat of silence. ‘Since when have you had lacy knickers? I thought you wore…’ He stops and coughs. ‘Sorry, remind me, what size are Brazilians?’
I’m shaking my head that I’m having to explain. ‘They’re bigger than a thong, but smaller than granny pants, cut back on the bum so you don’t get a VPL.’
I hear him sigh. ‘How long ago did it happen and how does Diesel seem in himself?’
Saying it out loud I’m cringing with guilt. ‘A couple of hours ago maybe, but I only realised now.’ As I look down at poor Diesel, I’m swallowing back a sob. ‘He’s groaning and he won’t get up.’ Then another awful thought hits me like a juggernaut. ‘I can’t get him downstairs.’
There’s a second of hesitation, then he says the words I realise I’ve been longing to hear. ‘I’ll come straight over.’
‘Thank you.’ Then a different wave of guilt sweeps over me for forcing him to do what he isn’t comfortable with. ‘I’m sorry, truly, I didn’t mean this to happen.’
His voice is quiet. ‘I know you better than to think that, Cressy. Keep him quiet, and don’t worry. I’ll bring the portable scanning machine, and we’ll see what’s going on.’
And it’s a measure of how grave the situation is that Ross didn’t mention baked goods once.
41
At Clemmie’s flat
Lost causes and helicopter rescue
Thursday
‘There isn’t any obvious obstruction I can see at the moment.’
Ross is kneeling on the rug at Diesel’s side where he’s been for the last half-hour, and he wipes off his scanning pad and puts it next to the portable screen he set up on the coffee table. ‘I’ll stay here and keep an eye on him and we’ll see how he is in the morning.’
I’m crouching next to Ross, stroking Diesel’s flank with one palm, still holding the dustpan I’ve been using to brush up the wisps of grey fluff Ross clipped off Diesel’s tummy earlier. ‘Are you okay with that?’
Ross’s mouth tightens. ‘I wasn’t ever going to get much sleep. There’s more I haven’t told you yet; they phoned from Kittiwake just after you called, to say Walter isn’t well. All I know so far is he had some kind of funny turn, and they’ve taken him to A&E.’
‘Oh no.’ Hearing that makes my stomach spasm all over again. ‘Should you be with him?’
The shadows on Ross’s cheeks darken as his jaw clenches. ‘Jen’s there, and Joanie too. They promised to ring as soon as they know more.’ A gust from the open French windows lifts the hair from the dustpan. ‘All we can do now is wait and hope for the best for both patients.’
I can’t bear to say the words out loud. But Walter’s come so far, it would be tragic for him to be snatched away now when he’s found another chance at happiness. As I’m willing him with all my strength to be okay, I feel guilty for finding the space to think how much more like home the flat feels with Ross on the rug, tidying the kit back into the holdall he brought with him. At least the stethoscope around his neck is there to remind me this is a duty call and not one he’d have made of his own free will. When two such precious characters are suddenly in danger, it’s hard to imagine the trivial worries that were filling my head a couple of hours ago.
Ross slides his bag in beside the chair and the bookcase and sinks onto the sofa. ‘Is that another new dress?’
If he’s resorting to small talk to pass the time, I may as well join in. ‘Maudie Maudie have gone mad this last week. It’s their new collection.’ I pull a face. ‘You know me, I have to test-drive them before I wear them out in public.’ The print of this one is lovely. As I remember how much it reminds me of the buttercups and dandelions up in Walter’s meadow, I’m swallowing hard. The wrap-over top will definitely need a pin or I’ll be showing my boobs every time I bend over.
