Page 46 of Let It Breathe
Clay could relate, but he didn’t say so.
The sound of tires crunching over gravel drew their attention toward the driveway. They watched as a blue Subaru pulled into the circular parking area at the front of the winery barn and eased to a halt in front of them. The brake lights flickered and a dark-haired, thirty-something man in a green fleece jacket hopped out and extended his right hand, gripping a medical bag in the left.
“You must be Clay,” he said. “Patrick called just as I was leaving a sheep farm five miles down the road. I’m Wallace O’Brien—you can call me Wally. Is this our patient?”
Clay nodded. “Thanks so much for coming out like this. Leon here ate some, uh?—”
“Medical marijuana,” piped Axl. “Perfectly legal. We’ve got the permits and everything.”
“Er, right,” Clay said. “This is Axl, and Reese here is Leon’s owner. She’s understandably worried.”
“Reese,” the man repeated, his eyes coming to rest on her face. He studied her with undisguised appreciation, and Clay stood up a little straighter.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” said Dr. Wally. “Tell me, have you noticed any disorientation or behavioral changes?”
“Well, his normal behavior whenever a man is around is to?—”
Leon chose that moment to display his normal behavior. He lowered his head and nailed Wally squarely in the groin.
“Ooof!” said Wally and doubled over.
“Oh no! I’m so sorry,” Reese said. “Are you okay?”
Wally nodded but didn’t say anything beyond a squeak as he clutched his crotch with one hand. Reese winced and rested a hand on Leon’s back, while Clay did his best to feel sympathetic.
“I can’t believe he just did that,” Reese said. “I should have warned you that’s what he always does, but I thought after he didn’t hit Clay in the—um—the?—”
“Nutsack,” Axl supplied.
“Right,” Reese said. “I thought maybe the marijuana made him not want to do that, but I guess I’m glad he’s being his normal self. I mean, I’m not glad you got hit, but—I mean—can I get you some ice?”
“I’m fine, fine.” Dr. Wally groaned, straightening up and pasting on a strained smile. “Let me just do a quick exam here, if you don’t mind.”
“Absolutely,” Reese said, stepping aside as Dr. Wally opened his medical bag and pulled out a stethoscope.
Clay watched as the vet tucked the earpieces into place and held the flat metal end against Leon’s furry chest, listening intently. The name had left Clay expecting a much older man, but Dr. Wally couldn’t be more than a year or two older than he was.
The vet nodded to himself after a minute, then put the stethoscope away and pulled out a little penlight. He put a hand on the side of Leon’s face and shined it in the animal’s eyes.
Leon curled his lips back and spat.
Clay tried not to laugh. “At least his aim isn’t affected.”
Dr. Wally grimaced and wiped the alpaca slime off his cheek. “No worries. He does seem to be in high spirits, doesn’t he?”
Axl snorted. “High. You could say that.”
Dr. Wally gave a faint smile and pulled out a thermometer. “Um, would one of you mind holding him steady?”
“Of course,” said Reese, and wrapped her arms around the alpaca’s neck.
Dr. Wally moved around in back and tried to lift Leon’s tail. Leon hooted with alarm and pulled his tail down.
“Come on, buddy,” the vet murmured. “Just cooperate.”
Clay scratched one of Leon’s fuzzy ears, the one with a heart-shaped splotch on it, and tried to think of something comforting to say. “Sorry, man,” he murmured to Leon, trying not to notice the heat coming from Reese’s hand as she stroked the alpaca’s neck. “He didn’t even buy you a beer first.”
At last, the vet released Leon’s tail and returned to pull an alcohol wipe from his medical bag. He nodded at Reese as he began cleaning the thermometer.
