Calmly, Carefully, Completely(92)

“You need to get up,” I say. “I made an appointment for Maggie this morning at nine at the vet.”

“She still acting tired?” she asks. She sits up on the side of the bed, holding the covers up over her breasts.

It’s worse than her being tired. I’m sure of it. “Yeah.”

“Okay,” she says, covering a yawn. She looks at her clothes lying across the room.

“Do you need clothes out of the car?” I ask.

She shakes her head. “I just need to get dressed and brush my teeth.”

“I’ll give you a few minutes,” I say. But what I really want to do is stay and watch her get dressed. And then undress her and do it all over again.

I walk out and Matt’s got Maggie in his lap. She doesn’t look that bad, but she’s tired. I can tell. This is a big deal. She threw up again and again last night, more than Reagan probably is even aware of. Reagan comes out a few minutes later with her hair pulled into a ponytail. She slips into the bathroom, and I hear her brushing her teeth.

She comes out, and I stand up with Maggie in my arms. “I’ll carry her down,” I say.

“She can walk, can’t she?”

I shake my head, and I see Reagan’s features cloud with worry. I start toward the door, and she follows. Matt goes with us. Reagan climbs into the backseat of her Camry, and I put Maggie in her lap. I toss the keys to Matt, and he drives so I can sit with Reagan. Reagan coos at her dog, talking softly to her about how she is going to get some vitamins and then they would go home. But I doubt that’s going to be the case.

We get to the vet’s office, and they put us in a room. The vet comes in and does a quick exam. She takes Maggie to the back for pictures and tests. She doesn’t have Maggie with her when she returns. She has her vet’s face on. “I’m sorry. I don’t have good news,” she says quietly.

Reagan covers her mouth with her hand, and a sound escapes her lips. I pull her into my side. I had a feeling this was coming. “Maggie is fifteen years old. That’s pretty old for her breed.”

“She was fine yesterday,” Reagan protests.

“She wasn’t,” the vet says, shaking her head. “She has a mass in her abdomen. It’s really big, and it’s so big that it has ruptured, so she’s bleeding into her belly. I’m very sorry.”

Reagan looks at me, her eyes gleaming with hope. “So, you take the mass out, right?”

The vet shakes her head. “I’m sorry, but this isn’t something that we can fix. I recommend that you put her to sleep.”

“When?” Reagan asks. She thinks Maggie still has time.

“Now,” she says. “Making her wait isn’t humane.”

A strangled noise comes out of Reagan’s mouth, and I pull her to me, but she shoves me away and walks to stand in the corner of the room. She paces back and forth. Then she stops. “There’s nothing you can do?” she asks, her voice small.

“I’m sorry. There’s nothing.” The vet is being as sympathetic as possible. “Do you want me to go to get her so that you can say good-bye?”

Tears roll down Reagan’s face, and I catch Matt wiping one of his own. He doesn’t even know the f*cking dog and Reagan has him crying over her. But that’s Matt. “Yes, please,” Reagan whispers.

A few minutes later, they bring Maggie back, strapped to a board, and she’s lying there quietly. She doesn’t look unhappy at all, but looks can be deceiving.

“Can I have a minute with her?” Reagan asks.