BLUE WAS walking down Main with Chewie when it happened. Without warning, the labradoodle dashed out into the street, and before Blue could even open his mouth to call out his dog’s name, it was over.
A car hit him.
Blue screamed louder than Chewie was howling, ran into the traffic, and was barely missed by a truck himself.
“Chewie! Oh my God, Chewie!” By the time he reached his dog, he was crying, and then he screamed again. Like a girl. Like a girl running from a slasher in a horror movie. He was so hysterical he nearly fainted.
The driver was out of the car himself now and a total mess. “Oh, dear Christ, I’m so sorry! He just ran out into the street! I couldn’t stop!”
Blue was crying, and Chewie was crying and shuddering, and in his mind’s eye Blue could see his dog—lifeless.
But. No.
Chewie couldn’t die. They had been on their way to get him some dog food! He. Could. Not. Die.
Blue looked around. A lot of cars had stopped now, and people were out of their vehicles. The world was blurry through his constant tears, his nose was already clogged with snot, and he didn’t know—what—to—do.
Then it hit him. He had been on the way to Four-Footed Friends! And heedless of what might happen, he carefully started to pick the trembling dog up—and was immediately bitten. Blue barely felt it, and ignoring growled warnings, he managed to get the dog into his arms—a labradoodle wasn’t a small dog—and then ran across the street and down Westport Road. The shelter was only a half block or so away.
He couldn’t open the door. His arms were too full. There was a doorknob, and not the handle kind. He couldn’t shift Chewie without hurting him more.
Snot running down his face, Blue began to kick at it, hysteria returning, and thankfully on the fourth kick, the door opened to reveal a large woman with shoulder-length graying hair.
“What the—” Her eyes went wide. She took everything in immediately and declared, “Get him in here. Right away. Back. Follow me.”
Chewie was panting deeply and shaking and whimpering, and Blue began to cry again. “Don’t die, Chewie. Please, please, please don’t die.”
He followed the woman through the lobby, past a counter where a startled black-and-white cat arched its back at them, and into the back. She guided him to a room with an examination table, and after Blue placed Chewie carefully upon it, she began to cautiously look him over.
“What happened?” she asked. She withdrew her hand as Chewie weakly snapped at her when she touched his left rear leg. Then before Blue could answer: “Car?”
“Y-yes,” Blue sobbed. “He just ran out in the street!” And then the only reason he didn’t faint dead away was that Chewie looked up into his face with big pleading eyes.
“Is there any reason you didn’t have him on a leash?” she asked, and Blue flinched with hideous guilt and looked up at her and saw… no blame.
“I found him. He’s my new friend. I’ve been taking care of him. Mom gave me money, and we were on our way here to get food and stuff.” He pulled the fifty-dollar bill from his pocket, wrinkled and damp, and held it out to her as proof.
She nodded. “Can you hold him?” she asked.
“Yes,” he answered, trembling himself.
“This is going to hurt, but I need you to be strong for him, okay?”
“Y-yes,” he said, and then the world started to go gray.
“Young man!”
The world snapped back into focus.
“Chewie needs you.” Her expression was as serious as a heart attack.
That’s what Blue had needed to hear, for now at least, and he leaned in and gathered Chewie’s upper body carefully into his arms with his muzzle tight against his shoulder so the dog couldn’t bite him.
Blue couldn’t see what the lady did next, but Chewie cried mournfully, and Blue gathered all his reserves not to start bawling like a child. He had to be strong for his dog!
“Yes, it’s his leg. It’s broken in at least one place and—”
“Elaine! What’s going on?”
They both turned to see a slim young man with a mane of blond dreadlocks, and Blue was flooded with relief. He knew this man. Intimately. This was his friend H.D. Or as he was usually called… “Oh, Hound Dog,” Blue cried. “My dog got hit by a car!”
“Blue,” said H.D. “Let me see.”
Blue couldn’t move.
“Come on, babe.” H.D. nodded, and there was something about his blue eyes that helped with the pain and fear in Blue’s heart. Hesitantly, carefully, he slipped away from Chewie, gently letting his head rest on the metal table. He hated that his sweet doggie face was against that cold metal, and before H.D. could move, Blue pulled his shirt off over his head and turned it into a bundle to pillow his dog’s head.
“Let me in now?” H.D. asked.
Blue nodded reluctantly and stepped away. At least far enough to let H.D. step in.
Chewie bared his teeth, and H.D. made soothing noises. Assuring sounds that he was here only to take care of him. The labradoodle dropped his head down and began to pant. H.D. laid hands on him, and Chewie showed those teeth for only a second more. His panting began to slow down. H.D. glanced at Elaine, who ever so slightly shook her head.
“No!” Blue wailed. “Please! Oh, please.”
They both turned to him. Elaine smiled, even though Blue thought it looked rather forced. “Don’t worry. No animal left behind. Not if we can help it. H.D., call Dr. Lee.”
Hound Dog smiled and held up his cell. “Got it,” he said and began to punch a number into his phone.
“It’s Saturday,” she said, and Blue heard the caution in her voice.
“He’ll come. You know he will.”
“Elaine,” Blue said, looking back down over his dog. He reached out tentatively, and Chewie lifted his head and licked Blue’s hand before dropping it back down weakly a few seconds later. Blue sighed. “Can’t you give him something for the pain?” He laid a hand on Chewie’s side.
She shook her head. “I don’t want to do that, honey. It might interfere with the anesthesia Dr. Lee’s going to have to give him. That’s something interesting about dogs. By now a natural numbness has set in. He’s going to be okay. Dr. Lee is amazing. He’ll wave his wand and help Chewie… as long as there are no internal injuries, and I don’t think that’s the case.”
“Then what’s that look on your face?” he asked. He knew he saw something.
She sighed. “It’s a good thing you brought him here. I bet most shelters would have put him down. This is going to be expensive. But if we’re lucky, Dr. Lee will do it pro bono. If not…. God, Blue. That’s your name? Blue?”
“Yes,” he whispered.
“Christ. We’ll do what we can do.”
“I’ll find some way to pay,” he cried. “I will. I’ll do whatever I have to. Chewie is my responsibility. You don’t take on a dog if you aren’t willing to be there for them, for better or for worse!”
“If only most people felt that way,” she said. She stepped forward and opened her arms, and he all but fell into them. Never taking his hand off Chewie, he rested his head on her shoulder, and she hugged him and rocked him like a baby.
Then H.D. was saying that Dr. Lee was on his way—Oh thank you, thank you, thank you—and the three of them stayed there with Chewie until Dr. Lee—what a sweet-looking man; he had to be good!—arrived. Then Hound Dog took Blue back out to the lobby. Elaine came out for an instant and gave Blue his shirt and assured him Chewie didn’t need it. H.D. sat down with him. Slung an arm around his shoulder and told him all would be fine. Told him that Dr. Lee was the best.
They sat there for an hour, and Blue managed not to cry—mostly. He rambled on about one subject after another, and H.D. let him. He was just worried, and his thoughts led him to blather on like a drunken monkey—the latest Star Wars movie, his disappointment that Thai Place in Westport had closed, if in a crossover movie war the Walking Dead zombies would win or the pod people from Invasion of the Body Snatchers, why were the honeybees disappearing, and did H.D. think feet could be sexy? And God, he was just sooooo tired. He had too little energy for his rambling words to be swept up into one of those tornadoes.
But then Hound Dog got a call, and he needed to leave right away. Another shelter was going to put an old Labrador down now unless he could come get it. “You want to go with?”
Blue shook his head. He couldn’t.
“It’ll help get your mind off—”
“I couldn’t possibly get my mind off Chewie,” he said. “I don’t want to.”
“I don’t like the idea of leaving you here alone,” H.D. said.
“I’ll be okay,” Blue said. He’d made it through a lot of tough shit in his life.
H.D. nodded. Smiled weakly. “I know you will. And Chewie will too.”
“You think?”
“I think,” H.D. said. “I know.”
Blue put on a brave smile and then made it his mantra.
Chewie will be okay, and so will I. Chewie will be okay, and so will I. Chewie will be okay, and so will I….