Finding Isadora(50)

“Looks like it.”

“I didn’t know what to do. Just picked her up and brought her to you.”

I glanced up, noting the blood that coated his denim shirt and jeans as well as his hands. “She didn’t bite you, did she?”

He gave his head a quick shake. “Cringed when she first saw me, but then I guess she realized I only wanted to help.”

Or she couldn’t run, or even crawl away. “How did you know where to come?” I asked him.

“At the fundraiser, you told me where you worked.”

And he remembered?

“Is she going to be okay?” he asked.

I carried on with my examination, hoping against hope I was wrong.

“I think she’s a stray,” he said. “I’ve seen her before, rooting for scraps around the dumpsters. Friendly little creature. Miki—my assistant—and I give her leftovers from our lunch.”

“No collar,” I commented. An abandoned animal, a friendly animal, and now… I drew in a shaky breath.

“I can’t take her myself,” he said. “I’m never home, but Miki might. She has a little boy and—”

He broke off as I straightened to look at him.

He straightened, too, met my gaze, and swallowed hard. “She’s not going to make it, is she?”

I rested my hand on the dog’s head and stroked her gently. Her whimpering stopped, as if my touch soothed her. “Her spine was severed. The good news is, it’s helped her from feeling too much pain.” I fought to keep my voice steady. This was the worst part of my job. “I’ll have to euthanize her, Gabriel.”

“Damn.” He punched one fist into the other. “There’s no other option?”

“We could keep her alive, but she’d have virtually no quality of life.”

“Fuck. Did I do it? Break her spine when I lifted her?”

I shook my head. “The car did it. And the driver left her to die.”

“It was pointless what I did. Bringing the dog here.”

“No, not at all. She’s suffering and I can end it. Besides, she would have died all alone in an alley. This way, she knows someone tried. Someone cared enough to try.”

I stroked the dog’s head once more, then gathered my strength. “Would you pet her like this for a minute or two while I get what I need? Just touch her head. It’s the only place she has any sensation.”

Gabriel’s throat moved in another hard swallow, then he came closer and reached out his bloody hand.

I hated euthanizing animals, even when it was the humane thing to do. As quickly as I could, I unlocked the drug cabinet and got everything ready. “You can leave now, if you want. There’s a restroom down the hall where you can wash up.”

His eyes met mine. Bleak, wounded eyes. He shook his head.

I held his gaze for a moment. “You don’t know her name?”

“No. Why?”

“No animal dies nameless here. What shall we call her?”

“You pick.”

He probably thought I was foolish and sentimental, but this was important to me. Later, it might be important to Gabriel, too. I squatted down and peered into the dog’s brown eyes, trying to think of an appropriate name.

“Valente,” Gabriel said.

Surprised, I glanced up. “For a name?”

He cleared his throat. “It means brave in Portuguese.”

I touched the back of my hand to the dog’s hot, dry nose. “Hi, Valente.”

To Gabriel, I said, “I do this in two steps. First, I sedate her. She’ll be at peace and we’ll keep stroking her. Then I’ll inject the drug that will euthanize her. She may go quietly, but it’s possible she’ll cry out, her head may move. She won’t be feeling anything, it’s just a reflex, but it can be disturbing to watch. If you don’t want to stay for that part…”

He didn’t say anything, just kept stroking Valente’s head. I glanced away from both the man and the dog, trying to compose myself.

I touched the dog’s face briefly, then murmured, “Go to sleep now, Valente. Dream of running along the beach, chasing seagulls.” Then I injected the sedative, just a little pinch like with a vaccination. Together, Gabriel and I waited as her head relaxed.

“I’ll give her the other injection now,” I warned him.

He nodded and kept gently stroking her head.

I injected the drug and again we waited. Fortunately, the poor creature went peacefully. After checking for vital signs, I murmured, “She’s gone.”

“Her eyes are still open.” His voice sounded choked.

“That’s common.” I smoothed down her eyelids.

Gabriel didn’t move for a while, then he gave Valente’s head one last, lingering pat and slowly removed his hand. “What now?”

“Don’t worry, we’ll take care of her.”

He nodded. “Thank you, Isadora. I’ll pay for everything.”

“There’s no need. She’s not your dog.”

“Nor yours. I’d like to, okay?”

“Okay. Thanks.”

He lifted his hand and I saw it was trembling. He reached up and, before I could stop him, ran it across his cheek and jaw, leaving a smear of red.