“The what now?” Skinny Guy’s friend asked.
“The bill,” I said. “For the surgery.”
“And the boarding,” Kayla added from the reception desk. “And the shots. We’ll have to give him those before we can release him.”
“Those too,” I said. “What does that come out to, Kayla?”
And maybe these guys weren’t as broke as they looked. People could surprise you like that. But they sure as shit hadn’t given a damn about the dog’s welfare to begin with, and I really hoped that a hefty bill would remind them of that now.
Kayla tapped at her keyboard for a moment, then sucked air between her teeth like a mechanic about to deliver bad news. “Nine hundred and twelve dollars,” she said.
Apparently boarding costs had really gone up in the last five minutes, and Kayla had applied that change retroactively. I nodded gravely, unable to meet her gaze, and said, “So, whenever you’re ready. We take cash and cards.”
“Fucking,” Skinny Guy said, but whether he meant fucking dogs, fucking vets, or fucking anything in between, I had no idea because his brain bluescreened right at that point and he just stared at me.
“That’s a lot,” his friend said.
“Mmm.” I nodded. “Unfortunately there’s nothing I can do about that, so I’m afraid you’ll have to pay it.” I gave it a beat, to let it really sink in, before I said, “If you’re certain it’s your dog, that is.”
They exchanged a glance, and Skinny Guy said, “Can we see it?”
His friend elbowed him hard and whispered something in an urgent tone. Probably something about nine hundred and twelve dollars.
Skinny Guy had a rethink. “Uh, maybe it ain’t Stupid after all. The photo doesn’t really look the same as the one on your Facebook, I guess.”
“You sure about that?” I wasn’t going to give them the chance to change their story later.
Skinny Guy rubbed his forehead and gave his phone screen a cursory glance. “No, it ain’t ours.”
Bobby Merritt unfolded himself from his seat. “Well, hell, that’s a damn shame, boys. I hope you find your dog. Still, Lucille and I have an appointment, and we’d sure appreciate it if you didn’t keep the good doc too much longer. Clayton, how’s your granddaddy? His sciatica still giving him hell?”
Skinny Guy’s friend wrinkled his nose. “Uh, yes, sir.”
“Well, you tell him I said hi,” Bobby said. “And tell him to take some turmeric. You can buy it in capsules, you know? Might be a lot of nonsense, but can’t make it any worse, I reckon.”
Somehow he ushered them both to the door, still talking, and had them through it before either of them could even complain about it. He closed the door on them and then turned back, eyes narrowed, and said, “What sort of backwoods shit-for-brains asswipe calls their dog something like that? They don’t deserve to own a dog. Lucille, don’t eat that!”
The pamphlet on dog arthritis was a pulpy mess, and Lucille had spat bits of it all over the floor.
“So,” Bobby said, nodding toward the corridor, “I think you’d better get in there and tell Cash the news before he hightails it over the back fence with that dog, don’t you?”
How the hell was such a ludicrous man so perceptive?
He was, and I couldn’t stress this enough, wearing cowboy boots, short shorts with bright blue suspenders, a stars-and-striped-patterned tee that stretched over his biceps and hugged his ample middle, and a battered Stetson. A man who made the choice to dress like that had no right to be insightful.
I hustled back toward the kennel room anyway, thinking of how the guys had been adamant the dog had been chained up and how I had no reason to doubt them. They seemed exactly like the kind of people who would keep a dog chained. And there was a very good chance that Bobby was right and Cash was about to steal the dog for a second time to stop him from going back to that kind of situation.
But when I got to the kennel room, they were both still there. The dog’s cage was open. Cash was sitting on the floor, hunched over, with the squirming dog in his lap. His shoulders were shaking.
“They’re gone,” I blurted.
Cash lifted his tear-stained face, eyes wide, caught between hope and disbelief.
“They’re gone,” I repeated. “I told them how much the bill was, and they decided that he wasn’t theirs after all. He’s not going back to them.”
Cash’s face twisted in confusion. “They didn’t even want to see him?” he whispered.
“Nope.” I sat down on the floor beside him and leaned back against the wall. Stared at the ceiling for a moment. “Want to tell me about it?”
