I cringe, take a deep breath to steel my nerves and open the door. Brooklyn is standing in the middle of the room wearing a skin tight bright pink tank top, black shorts that could double as a pair of swimsuit bottoms because of how small they are, and a wide smile. She’s holding her tiny Yorkie, Matilda, in her arms looking healthy as ever. “Good morning, Brooklyn. What seems to be the problem with Matilda today?”
“Oh it’s probably nothing but you know me. I worry because I just love animals sooooo much,” she gushes.
I suppose it would be rude to roll my eyes in front of her.
Instead, I simply nod my head, resisting the urge to just walk out the door. I raise my eyebrows at her and she turns her head to the side, her dark ponytail brushing the tops of her shoulder when she does so. “Matilda?” I ask by way of reminding her of what fake reason she’s in my clinic this morning.”
“Oh, right! Yes. Um, this is kind of embarrassing but you know, I pay really close attention to her because I care for her like she’s my baby and yeah, she,” Brooklyn leans close to me, no doubt in part so that her cleavage is on full display and drops her voice to a whisper, “pooped twice yesterday.”
“Okay?”
“Well, she normally just goes once. She’s very regular. I just know her cycles so well and this isn’t like her! I think she’s got the flu or a virus or something.”
Yes. You’re a regular Dr. Pol. I get it.
I take a calming breath. “Brooklyn, dogs poop. A lot. Some dogs poop multiple times a day. Just like you and me.”
She sputters and her cheeks turn pink. Like she doesn’t poop.
“Walker,” she whisper shouts and playfully nudges me, then drags a hand from my shoulder down my bicep. It’s not lost on me that she squeezes it lightly before I take a step back.
“Listen. It’s not abnormal for my dog Brutus to poop different amounts every day.”
“Really?”
I take Matilda out of her hands and look her over, just to give her peace of mind—as if she was even worried anyway.
I check the dog over, look into her eyes and feel her stomach and bowel area. I even go as far as checking her temperature, to which Matilda turns accusing eyes to me. I know, girl. Your mama is a nutcase. Not surprisingly, I find nothing wrong.
“She’s perfectly healthy, aren’t you girl?” I say, cradling the dog in my arms and scratching her ear. She licks my hand and I grab her a treat from the plastic container on the counter. Something she’s unfortunately all too familiar with.
After she scarfs down her treat I hand her back to Brooklyn.
“Maybe we should get Brutus together with Matilda. I bet that would make me feel better. To see how healthy he is.”
“We’ll see.” I avert my eyes quickly. “Like usual, check in with Linda before you leave.”
“That’s it? We’re done?”
“She’s perfectly healthy, Brooklyn. You’re doing great with her. Relax.”
She preens at my praise and I immediately wish I hadn’t said anything to begin with.
“Thank you, Walker. That means so much to me,” she gushes and squeezes Matilda close and I’m pretty sure I hear her emit a tiny growl.
“You’re welcome,” I say and rush out the door, not wanting to prolong the appointment.
I glance down the hall and see Linda beaming a smile my way. I narrow my eyes and point at her. “See what you’re going to miss out on?”
“I’m having the cameras installed tomorrow so I don’t miss it,” she teases.
I shake my head and move into the next exam room, and for the next several hours I do what I love to do; working with animals and their owners. As long as they’re not trying to hit on me.
After my last patient, I shoo Linda out the door so she can get home to Roger. I wave to her then lock the door behind her and hit the lights before retreating to my office. After taking care of some paperwork and checking my email, I check my cell for the first time in a few hours.
Miss Polly called. Five times.
In a panic, I hit her number. I rush out of the office, my heart beating wildly as I wait for her to pick up.