“Thank you, Barb, but I can handle this on my own,” Joyce declared, trying to reassure her sister over the phone as she sat in the waiting room. The last thing she needed was for Barbara to come and join her. Sadly, she couldn’t trust her sister to be the source of comfort she needed in her current situation.
“It doesn’t sound like you’re handling it, Joyce. You’re crying.”
“I was crying, I’m fine now. See, you helped from a distance,” Joyce replied, rolling her eyes and hoping the sarcasm wasn’t obvious in her voice.
“I can’t believe you’ve gone ahead and complicated your life with this animal. Now not only are you crying over his broken leg, but that whole little adventure in the park will cost you a fortune. Evelyn would never have let that happen, that’s for sure.”
And there it was: the real reason why Barbara would be useless in comforting her through Dingo’s ordeal. She hated the idea of owning a dog or any kind of pet even more than Evelyn had. Her disdain for animals made it hard to believe they’d been raised in the same home. She’d tried to dissuade Joyce from adopting a dog from the time she’d learned about her plans until the very morning she’d gone to pick up her puppy. What Joyce needed now was someone who would sympathize with the pain and anxiety she was going through because Dingo was injured, not someone who would go on and on about why she should never have burdened herself with a dog in the first place.
“Listen, I really don’t need this right now. Evelyn is dead. She can’t keep me from having a dog anymore and neither can you. I live my own life now. And my life includes a dog named Dingo. I love him and he’s injured and I’ll cry over that as long as I want to, damn it! I’m going to hang up now. Do not come, you hear me?”
Before Barbara could answer, Joyce hung up. She hoped she hadn’t raised her voice too much, but the young woman sitting across from her in the waiting room was staring at her and the Maltese sitting on the woman’s lap growled at her. “Some people don’t get it, do they?” she said to the woman, hoping to elicit her compassion.
“Oh, I know what you mean. This one here is my baby,” the woman replied as she scratched her Maltese’s neck. Joyce smiled at her as her heart broke thinking of how her own sister had been incapable of giving her the support this stranger had managed to offer with one simple comment. She dropped her cell phone into the depths of her purse and got up from her seat to go make herself a second cup of coffee.
She didn’t like the fact that she’d been forced to speak to Barbara that way, but she was proud she’d been able to stand up to her. She’d had a few similar outbursts recently. They were part of the process of taking back control of her own life and letting her true self come out of its shell. It wasn’t easy and it left her exhausted every single time, but it was necessary. She put skim milk in her coffee and with a sigh went back to the chair she’d occupied for over an hour.
As she waited, she tried to focus on the framed art of cats and dogs that tastefully covered the walls of the waiting room and adjacent reception area of the clinic. They brightened the beige walls and proved that she was not the only person in the world who loved animals as much as she did.
She went back to the photo she’d been obsessing over since she’d sat in the waiting room. The image was of a basset hound laying his head on a bandaged front leg. Basset hounds were probably the most pitiful looking of dogs, she mused, with those sad, droopy eyes and those long, floppy ears. The dog in the frame appeared so afflicted by his injured leg. Joyce’s heart tightened again as she imagined Dingo in pain. She took a deep breath and recalled Doctor Carter’s reassuring words. “Let’s take it one step at a time,” she said, repeating the phrase to herself over and over again until she calmed down.
Joyce squirmed in her seat and pressed a hand to her aching back as she focused her thoughts on the woman caring for Dingo. She must be new in town. Doctor Perry had always examined Dingo and administered all of his routine vaccinations until today. She looked so young Joyce thought she might have just graduated from veterinary school. Her youth, however, didn’t keep Joyce from instinctively trusting her with Dingo. Dingo had seemed to trust her as well, keeping still and quiet for her, something he’d never done for Doctor Perry. Doctor Carter’s words had been reassuring, but even more than what she’d said, her presence had been like a soothing, enveloping coat of comfort for both Joyce and Dingo.
Joyce smiled as the image of Doctor Carter flashed in her mind. Under the professional appearance of her crisp white lab coat and dark-framed glasses, her red hair pulled back in a ponytail and the freckles on her round face betrayed the looks of a young, geeky, adorable woman. How could anyone not trust a woman like Doctor Carter? She embodied trustworthiness and credibility better than anyone Joyce had ever met before. She would take good care of Dingo. Joyce had no doubt about it. She only hoped that Dingo could remain under Doctor Carter’s care and wouldn’t need to transfer to Brewer for surgery.
“Ms. Allen?”
Joyce was startled by Isabelle’s voice. She’d been so absorbed in her own thoughts that she hadn’t noticed the vet tech approach her. Isabelle was now standing a few feet from her. Joyce turned to her. “Yes?”
“Doctor Carter will see you now, if you want to follow me.”
Joyce automatically readjusted the silk scarf around her neck, grabbed her purse, and followed Isabelle, her heart racing as they walked to the exam room.