22. Joshua

Joshua

A s long as I lived, I would never get the sound of Mabel’s anguished scream out of my mind. Dropping my hand, she lunged forward and punched Stephen right in the face. My girl had an impressive right hook.

“You asshole!”

Stephen brought his arm around like he was going to hit her back. I rushed forward and grabbed him, stopping him from retaliating.

“You touch her, and you’ll be eating out of a straw!” I growled. “Mabel, call 911 while I look at Esmerelda. Tell them I’m reporting felonious animal cruelty.”

Ignoring a sputtering Stephen, I hurried towards Esmerelda’s prone form. She’d been knocked unconscious, but she was breathing.

“Mabel, get something we can immobilize her with, like a wooden board. And some cloth we can use to strap her down so she doesn’t hurt herself if she wakes up.”

Mabel raced into the house, the sound of her sobs following her.

“I didn’t mean to hurt the mutt,” Stephen muttered, clearly lying. I didn’t spare him a glance.

“I know you didn’t, dear,” Mabel’s mother said soothingly. “It’s all a big misunderstanding. Maybelline has always been overly dramatic, especially when it comes to that damned dog.”

I looked up and pinned her with a glare.

“Are you seriously taking the side of the man who was emotionally abusive to your daughter and then tried to kill her dog twice now?” I asked incredulously. “What the fuck is wrong with you, lady?”

Just then we heard the sirens. Stephen looked around frantically like he was planning to make a run for it.

“Don’t even try it,” I said. “I know everyone in this town. You will not get far, I promise you that.”

Mabel came back with a board, a sheet, and a pair of scissors just as two of Starlight Bay’s finest entered her yard.

“What happened, Doc?”

I summarized events while I gently slid Esmerelda onto the makeshift backboard and tied her down with the long strips of fabric that Mabel cut.

“She hit me!” Stephen whined. “That’s assault. Are you going to arrest her? I’m a lawyer you know.”

“It was self-defense,” I said quickly. “He hurt her dog and she was in fear for her own safety. I saw the whole thing.”

“You’re under arrest,” one of the cops said, starting to read Stephen his Miranda rights.

“How can we help?” the other cop said.

“I’m going to take Esmerelda to the clinic,” I said, “Can you give us an escort so we don’t get stopped?”

“Absolutely.”

I carefully set Esmerelda on the back seat, pulling a seatbelt over the unconscious dog, and Mabel got in next to her, holding on to the backboard to keep it still on the seat. Taking a deep breath, I got into the driver’s seat and backed out of Mabel’s driveway. The cops had gotten Stephen into the back of the squad car by then, and they turned on their lights and escorted us to the vet hospital, rushing through all the intersections.

As I drove I asked Mabel to call the clinic.

“Tell them we have an emergency coming in,” I said, waiting for her to call. “We need them to clear the x-ray machine and the OR.”

I waited for her to explain what happened, then I added, “Tell them we need oxygen, IV anesthetic, and they should have some blood ready in case there’s internal bleeding and she needs a transfusion.”

Mabel made a choking sound but relayed the information.

I tore into the parking lot, glad to see Erica was there as well as Steve Jacobs, another doctor at the practice. They ran towards my car with a gurney, and we worked together to move Esmerelda out of the backseat.

We all race walked towards the entrance and I grabbed Mabel’s hand, pulling her along.

“Mabel honey, this could take a while. I don’t know how serious this is. If there’s internal bleeding or a spinal cord injury we will need to do emergency surgery, do you understand?”

“Of course,” she said. Her voice was shaky.

“I promise I will do my best to save Esmerelda. We all will.”

I looked up at Elaine who was watching us rush in the door.

“Elaine will set you up in the lounge and take care of you,” I said loud enough for Elaine to hear. “I’ll try to send out updates, but don’t freak out if you don’t hear anything for a while, okay? I need to focus on Esmerelda right now.”

“Okay.”

I met her gaze, then brought my hand up to cup her cheek for just a few seconds.

“Stay strong.”

Once I entered the treatment area, my entire focus was on Esmerelda. After I scrubbed my hands and pulled on some scrubs, Steve and I began our exam.

“There are contusions on the left hind leg,” Steve called to Erica, who input the information into the computer. “Based on the angle of the leg, there’s a fracture.”

“Let’s get a full body x-ray,” I ordered. “I want to check the spine and neck too. She hit that fence pretty hard.”

Just then Esmerelda started having a seizure. We sprang into action, administering the drug to stop the seizure, then slid her into the x-ray machine to get some pictures. She woke up just as we were bringing her out, immediately vomiting.

“Definite concussion,” I called to Erica.

“Noted.”

I looked down at the terrified dog, hoping she would recognize me in her current state.

“Esmerelda,” I said softly.

The dog’s eyes swung to mine and I thought I saw recognition in them.

“We’re going to take good care of you, don’t worry, girl. Your mom is outside waiting for you.”

She made a low whining noise.

“Let’s get some pain meds on board while we look at the x-rays.”

An hour later we wheeled an unconscious Esmerelda into a recovery kennel, hooking her IV to the chain link door. Usually we would put a smaller dog into a smaller cage, but I knew without asking that Mabel would insist on staying here with her pup.

“Thanks, nice work, both of you,” I told Steve and Erica. “I’m going to go update Mabel.”

“I’ll keep an eye on Miss Esmerelda,” Erica assured me. “I’ll let you know if anything changes.”

I headed to the room that we called the lounge. Unlike our usual treatment rooms, this one had a loveseat and a more homey feel. It was where we took the pet parents to give them bad news, or to let them be present while we administered euthanasia drugs for those who were ready to cross over.

Like that first day I met her, Mabel was sitting cross-legged, her hands on her knees while she stared into space. When she heard me enter the room she turned her head, her eyes wide and devastated.

“Is she…?”

“Mabel is going to be fine,” I told her.

She jumped up and grabbed my forearms, digging her fingernails into my skin. “Did you say she’s going to be fine?” she asked.

I led her to the loveseat and sat next to her, turning so I could make eye contact.

“Mabel has a concussion,” I said. “Her back right leg is broken, and she has contusions – bruises – all up her right side. But the good news is that she is able to move, which means her spine isn’t injured, and there doesn’t appear to be any internal bleeding that we can see at this time. We will need to monitor her carefully for at least the next twenty-four hours, but barring an infection or something we didn’t find yet, I expect her to make a full recovery.”

Mabel burst into tears and slid off the love seat onto the floor.