The rest of the night went by in a blur. I was allowed to stay with Ajax, but only after I’d showered twice with seriously nasty soap and put on scrubs. When I returned to the operating theater, they’d shaved Ajax and done an examination, plus x-rayed him.
He was still unconscious. I bit my lip, trying not to cry. Stupid. I barely knew the dog, and yet he already had a chunk of my heart.
They got him prepped for surgery and went to work. I stroked his head and talked to him, though he was under anesthesia. Lorraine worked quickly. At some point, Ajax had been kicked and a rib had penetrated his lung. That likely happened within the last few hours, Lorraine said. It’s a wonder he hadn’t died. He hadn’t been shot. The wound on his side was from something sharp, though Lorraine didn’t think it was a knife. The wound was more a tear than a cut and it was at least a few days old. The scab had broken open during the night.
He also was covered in bruises, flees, and ticks; had a bad case of ringworm; and underneath the metal collar he wore, his skin was raw and infected.
“He’s been through hell,” Lorraine said when she was through. We sat on the floor and leaned against the wall, sipping coffee as we watched Ajax sleep on a large dog pillow in one of the recovery areas. “He’s tough, though. He should recover just fine, though he’s going to need good food, a lot of rest, and gentle care. Hopefully the county won’t decide he needs to be put down.”
“I’ll take him home with me.” I didn’t even think about it. He and I belonged together. We’d both suffered terribly at the hands of people who were supposed to love us and protect us, and that made us family.
Lorraine looked at me in surprise. “What about your white couch and white carpets?”
“I’ll can buy new stuff if I need to.”
“He’s a big dog. He’s going to need a lot of exercise. He won’t like being cooped up in your apartment all day, and he may not be good with other dogs or people.”
“I’ll figure it out. How much longer before he wakes up?”
“Soon. He’ll be groggy, though.”
“Can I take him home?”
She shook her head and grinned at me. “I always knew you were a soft touch. Yeah, he can go home later today. That should give you time to go shopping for the stuff you’ll need.” She got to her feet and left, returning a few minutes later with a pad of paper and a pen. She sat back down and made a list of things.
“He’s probably never going to take a collar again. That’s going to be a problem if you want to take him somewhere. Leash laws. He might take a harness, but I don’t know. You’ll want to give him a lamb and rice diet for a while—mix of kibble and canned food. Feed him a half cup of each every three hours. He’s been starved, and his stomach and intestines aren’t going to be working properly. We’ve treated his worms, so you may see some ugly things coming out of him in the next week, but getting rid of all that is good. Once we’re sure he’s doing well, we’ll increase his food intake. I’ll want to see him every day, but I’ll come over to check on him.” She finished with writing out the medications and instructions on giving them.
It wasn’t much longer before Ajax woke up. I explained all that had happened to him, where I was going, and that I’d be back to get him. He watched me, his eyes dull from the drugs they’d pumped into him.
“You sleep. I’ll be back soon.”
His eyes never left me as I walked out the door.