The Obsession(44)

“He could use another ten. Definitely undernourished. Clean, though.”

“He wasn’t. We bathed him. Twice.”

“Xander helped you out with him, right?” And to Naomi’s astonishment, Alice hefted seventy-one pounds of trembling dog onto the exam table.

“Yes, he came along a couple minutes after I found the dog.”

“Put Milo’s collar on him, I see.”

“Milo? Was that his dog?”

“Mmm-hmmm.” Like her eyes, her voice was soft and calm as she ran her hands over the dog. “Great dog, Milo. Cancer came on fast and hard. We did everything we could, but . . . He had fifteen good, happy years, and that’s what counts. This one here, he’s about two, and he’s been on the road awhile from the looks of his paws.”

She got out her light, slipped him a small treat before examining his ears. “I’m going to give you some drops for his ears.”

“Drops?”

“He’s got an infection brewing in the left one. And I’ve got some meds you’ll need to give him for worms.”

“Worms?”

“Stool sample you brought in. He’s got worms, but the meds should clear that up quick enough. I’m going to give him a test for heartworm, and I’d like to do a titer to gauge if he needs shots. Seeing as he’s a stray, I’m going to discount all this for you.”

“I appreciate it. He’s got to belong to somebody, right?”

“Hasn’t been neutered.” Alice stepped away, got a syringe. “As he’s a mixed breed, it’s not likely he has all his works because someone intends to breed him. He’s seriously underweight. Go on and stroke his head, distract him a little. He’s got intestinal worms,” Alice continued, as she drew blood. “The pads of all four paws are raw. I’m going to be able to tell in about twenty minutes or so if he’s had shots for rabies and distemper, if he has heartworm. But he’s got a little mange, and ticks and fleas have been at him.”

“Fleas.”

“Dead now, from the flea bath you gave him. I’m the only vet in town, and he hasn’t been in here before. Wouldn’t be the first time somebody dumped a dog they decided they didn’t want.”

“Oh.” Naomi looked down to where, despite the needles, the tests, the dog stared into her eyes with absolute trust.

“I’ll call the vets I know in the area, and we’ll put up your flyer, contact the shelters. It’s possible he got lost, and someone’s been looking for him.”

Naomi clung to the possibility.

It took more than an hour altogether, an unfortunate round of shots, though the dog handled them without more than a look of puzzlement. She left with a bag of pills, drops, pamphlets, written instructions, and a dog-sized hole in her credit card.

Reeling, she hunted up Xander’s garage.

It was bigger than she’d imagined. Cars and trucks scattered around a lot, some of them—such as the hatchback with the crunched front fender—obviously waiting for repairs.

One building about the size of a Quonset hut looked like it held offices. Another spread in a long backward L with the front bay doors open wide. The dog still didn’t like the leash, but she was onto him now, and shortened up her grip on it.

She intended to try the offices, but the dog pulled and bulled his way toward the open doors and the noise.

She heard the whoosh-thump of an air compressor, a steady banging, and Walk the Moon advising everyone to shut up and dance.

She’d spent a lot of time on the road, so she’d been in her share of garages. The sounds, the smells (grease, oil), the sights (tools, machines, car guts) seemed fairly usual. But they apparently fascinated the dog, who strained on the leash until he got inside.

Then his tail wagged like a flag in the breeze.

He’d obviously scented Xander over the motor oil, gas, lubes, and grease guns, and let out a happy, greeting bark.

Xander stood under a sedan on a lift doing whatever mechanics do to underbellies, Naomi decided. He wore scarred motorcycle boots and faded jeans with a hole in the knee and a dirty red rag hanging out of the back pocket. She couldn’t figure out how he made the look sexy.

“Hey, big guy.” He stuck the tool he’d used in his other back pocket, then crouched to greet the delighted dog. “You look better than you did yesterday.” He glanced up at Naomi. “You always look good.”

“We just came from the vet.”

“How’d he do?”

“He tried to crawl inside me in the waiting room because he was terrified of a Pomeranian. But she did have attitude. He has an ear infection and worms, and I have a bag full of pills and drops and instructions. He had to have a half million tests, followed by shots as the whatever-the-hell-it-is was low and he probably hasn’t had the shots before. He doesn’t have heartworm, so yay. And he needs to gain weight. I have dog vitamins, for God’s sake.

“Plus.”

She dug in her purse, took out the vet bill, held it out.

Xander said, “Ouch.”

“And this is the discounted, Good Samaritan rate.”

“Well, it’s his first, and he needed it. I’m good for half.”

“It’s not the money, though okay yeah, ouch; it’s the very strong sense I get that in her opinion nobody’s looking for him. What am I supposed to do with him?”