After school Mom and Cupcake are supposed to pick us up and take us to Cupcake’s vet appointment.
We wait in the car line for Mom’s little red car. Instead, Dad’s blue car roars up. Dad’s car is loud because he needs a new muffler.
Dad cranks down his window. Cupcake is in the car on top of the cardboard that covers the broken seat. Dad’s car is clean because Dakota and Izzy and I washed it last weekend.
I like Dad’s car because it’s old, so no airbags, which means I get to sit in the front.
“I got dibs on the front on the way back,” Dakota says as she and Izzy pile in.
“Is Mom okay?” I ask as I buckle in.
“She’s fine. She had to work. Two waitresses called in sick. I’m helping her out,” Dad says.
“Do you know we have Cupcake’s vet appointment today?” I ask.
“Why do you think I brought the dog?”
Dakota nods. “What about the pee samples. Did you bring them?”
“Say what?”
“The pee samples. The vet is going to need them. I have before Cupcake got sick and after.”
“Your mother didn’t say anything about that. Did the vet request these samples?” Dad asks.
“It’s a new vet. She doesn’t know she needs them yet,” Dakota says.
“Ahh,” Dad says. “Don’t you think we better let the veterinarian do her job? That’s what you’re paying her for, Dakota.”
Dakota leans forward. “It’s important. We won’t get another chance.”
“It’s way out of our way, honey.”
Dakota scowls. She wraps her arms tightly around herself. Then she perks up again. “Did you hear how we made the money for this?”
“Your mom told me all about it. Look, give us a minute, Dakota. Liam is eager to hear about the latest changes to insurance policy.”
I peek over, hoping he’s being sarcastic.
He isn’t.
But he can’t get a word in because Dakota is telling him all about how we made money. Then she waits for him to say how brilliant she is.
He looks over at me. “Mr. Torpse said you couldn’t have a dog.”
“Unless she stops peeing in the house,” Dakota jumps in.
“I’ve got a buddy who has ten acres up in Sonoma. Cupcake could have her run of the place. And you three could spend all that money you made on a new TV.”
“No!” Dakota shouts. “Mom said we had another chance!”
I try to stay calm. Dad likes it better when we don’t shout.
Dad keeps going. “I know Liam wants a new tennis racket. And there’s probably something you and Izzy want.”
“No he doesn’t,” Dakota butts in.
I think about a new racket. Would I have won that tiebreaker with Moses if I’d had a better racket?
Then I try to imagine Cupcake running free on a farm. No. She loves us. She wants to be with us all the time. She wouldn’t be happy without us, and we would be miserable without her.
No one to greet us when we get home. No one to pet when things go wrong. No thank-you visits after we feed her. No morning wake-up nose in our faces. It’s bad enough not living with Dad, but not having a dog…That is just too sad.
“Mom said we could take her to the vet,” I say.
Dad nods. “I know, Liam. I’ve got the dog and your bag of money. I’m just presenting another alternative here.”
When we get to the vet, we all pile out of the car. Dakota snatches the money bag, and we head for the waiting room. Then the veterinarian’s assistant, who has dogs tattooed on both arms, lets us into a room with a metal table and glass jars full of dog biscuits. When Dr. Judy comes in, Dakota starts talking right in her face, so close that a drop of spit flies onto the vet’s glasses.
“I took her samples before and after she became incontinent. I have Cupcake’s pee marked before and Cupcake’s pee marked after. But Dad wouldn’t let me bring them. Will you charge extra if we have to come again?”
The vet takes a step back. She takes off her glasses and cleans them.
“What’s inconanent?” Izzy asks.
“It means when Cupcake pees everywhere,” I explain.
“A cupcake made of pee. Yucky,” she says.
Dakota doesn’t even hear this, she’s so intent on the vet. “I did not know exactly what to test,” she says, “but I observed differences. Before was slightly cloudy. After was clearer.”
Dr. Judy raises her eyebrows at Dad and then turns back to Dakota. “I like the way you’re approaching the problem. But there are a lot of factors that may have come into play here. Were the jars clean? How old are the samples? Was she fed the same thing on both days? Then, too, if she’s drinking a lot of water, her urine is likely to be clearer.”
Dakota nods, taking this in.
“Actually…” The vet opens the manila folder labeled Cupcake Rose and runs her finger down the notes. “Your previous vet sent her records. The medicine Cupcake was on has significant side effects. Increased urination is one of them.”
Dakota and I look at each other. “That’s what we thought,” I say.
“Have you noticed her panting more than usual?”
We nod.
“There’s another medication, which doesn’t have those side effects.”
“Why’d they give her medicine that makes her pee all the time?” Dakota asks.
“Not every dog experiences this. And not everybody knows about the new meds. Besides, the old medicine is cheaper than the alternative, so we generally recommend it first.”
“How much more expensive is the new one?” I ask.
“It costs ninety-eight dollars,” she says. “For six months. Till her digestion stabilizes.”
“And today’s visit is?” Dad asks.
“One hundred dollars.”
“We have enough!” Dakota swings the big plastic bag of quarters and dollar bills in Dad’s face.
“I don’t think we’ve ever received payment in quarters before. Quite the kids you have,” Dr. Judy whispers to my father.
Dad laughs. “Don’t I know it.”
Cupcake is curled up in the back, stinking up the car we just washed. Dakota is so excited she forgets she had dibs on the front seat. Dad drives us to the special doggy pharmacy. Dakota counts out more quarters and Dad goes in to get the medicine.
“Dakota?” Izzy asks. “Am I smart enough to be a nerd?”
Dakota rolls the window down and I take a deep breath of fresh, non-doggy-smelling air.
Dakota reaches over to touch Cupcake. “You get automatic membership because you’re my sister.”
“Me.” Izzy pats her chest. “Am I a nerd?”
Dakota takes a deep breath. Her eyes flash on mine. “We wouldn’t even be here without you, Izzy. You’re the one who said we should get a second opinion.”
“I did?”
“You did.”
I nod. “She’s definitely a full member.”
Izzy grins. “What about Dad?”
“Dad?” Dakota asks.
“He a nerd or a Greek?”
“Am I a what or a what?” Dad looks in the window. He has the medicine and a bowl of water.
“I don’t think we know for sure yet,” Dakota says.
Cupcake gets out to take her medicine. As the dog laps up water, Izzy says, “I hope.” She uses her left hand to cross the fingers of her right hand. Then she holds her crossed fingers in the air.
“What did she say?” Dad asks me.
“We need French fries.”
Dakota laughs as Cupcake scrambles back into the car.
I think Dad’s going to ignore me, but a few minutes later he pulls up to the burger drive-through.
“French fries!” Dakota and Izzy yell.
“Didn’t get a chance to cook today.” He winks at me.
