Fight for Life
Chapter Two
The dogs dash to the front edge of the fence, ears pricked, with Maggie following behind. A frantic woman steps out of her car holding a limp puppy against her chest. She runs into the clinic, her voice shaking as she calls for help. Maggie calls the dogs back. Sherlock comes straight away, but Mitzy just plops her tail to the ground. Maggie tells her to lie down, and she runs to the door instead. Maybe she’s not stupid at all, just confused.
Maggie herds the dogs inside and they’re greeted by friendly barks from the boarding kennels. Mitzy is placed in her cage while Sherlock ambles to the door, tail wagging. Maggie can hear Gran inside the Dolittle Room, one of two exam rooms named by veterinarians in her favorite books. Maggie sticks her head inside the exam room.
Gran is a big woman. She’s taller than Maggie, has strong hands and arms, and wears bright colors that seem to fill the room. Her hair is short enough to dry with a towel, and she doesn’t bother with makeup. Their patient is a black Labrador retriever, about maybe two months old. This little guy is way too thin for a puppy of his age, his ribs visible beneath his coat. He’s lying on the table, unmoving, his dark eyes sunk into his head. His coat is a dull black, dusted with white flakes, and he barely lifts his head when Maggie leans closer.
Gran uses a stethoscope to listen to his heart and lungs, then feels his abdomen with her hands. Her expression grows more serious. When she tries to stand him up, he collapses on the table, too weak to hold his own weight. The owner explains that she bought him at the farmer’s market on Penn Street two days ago. His name is Shelby. He was skinny and acted sleepy, but she thought he just needed some love and a warm home. An hour ago, she came home to find him lying motionless on the floor.
Gran says he’s malnourished and probably has worms in his intestines. She’s going to run some tests on him. He’ll have to spend the night at the clinic for observation. The owner worriedly runs her hands over Shelby’s back one last time. She writes down her phone number and leaves, glancing back at him before the door swings shut.
As she does, the door bursts open again. This time it’s a man clutching a cardboard box, twin toddler boys clutching his pants on either side of him. Two identical black Lab puppies, looking exactly like Shelby, are sitting on a blanket in the box, whimpering softly. He says something is terribly wrong.