All Shots

development of “hot spots,” as they are known, patches of irritation that the dog feels compelled to scratch and lick. Ugh. Enough said. And the dog looks lousy, too. The point is that not every owner of a double-coated breed knows how to remove the dead hair. If you simply run a brush over the dog, you are brushing only the surface, that is, the guard coat. Ideally, you blast with a powerful dryer while brushing against the direction of growth, but you can also use an undercoat rake, and you can “line brush” and “line comb,” that is, part the coat and work on one small section at a time to brush or comb from the skin out. Miss Blue was fortunate to lack the layer of dead undercoat. Therefore, her owner had either had her groomed by a diligent professional or had done a good job at home. Furthermore, although her nails hadn’t been trimmed within the last week or two, they weren’t overgrown.
    The door to the exam room swung open, and a vet tech named Alvin stuck his head in. “Kimi’s rabies tag,” he said. “Her old one.”
    “Thank you,” I said. “Zoe, could we scan for a microchip?” Leaving momentous pauses between her words, Zoe said, “Who... are... you... Miss Blue?”
    The scanner failed to answer the question. Microchips, which are, of course, tiny ID devices, are usually injected at the base of the neck, about where the neck meets the back, but microchips can migrate. Zoe checked Miss Blue’s throat and chest and kept looking, but no number appeared on the scanner. In searching for a spay scar, she’d already looked for a tattoo and found none. The absence of permanent ID meant nothing. It’s not all that easy to find someone to do a really clear tattoo on a dog. Some owners don’t trust microchip technology. A lot of people intend to have dogs chipped and never get around to it. And Miss Blue did, after all, have a collar and tags, albeit tags that didn’t belong on her. I’d hoped that a close examination of her collar might yield information, but the collar was not, to my disappointment, a luxurious and expensive one that I might have been able to trace to a particular retailer. It was nothing but a plain rolled-leather collar that I suspected was Miss Blue’s own. It wasn’t brand new, and the leather showed no marks to indicate that it had been used on a dog with a neck larger or smaller than Miss Blue’s.
    “Zoe, do you think there’s any chance that she’s pregnant?” I asked.
    “Hey, there’s always a chance. You been up to anything, young lady? No, seriously, I’m not finding anything.”
    “Good.” A few years earlier, my rescue group had sent an adopter directly to a shelter in Maine where there’d been a female malamute in need of a home, a spayed female, or so everyone had believed. Soon after the adopter got home with her dog, she found herself in possession of twice what she’d intended: one adult malamute and one newborn puppy. Fortunately, she’d been overjoyed as well as surprised. Good sportsmanship is highly valued in all spheres of the dog world, including rescue. “Let’s hold off on an ultrasound. And on her shots,” I said. “It’s possible that I’ll find out where she belongs and get her vet records.”
    “You leaving her here?”
    “Kimi wouldn’t give her a warm welcome. And let’s check a stool sample and keep an eye on her. She could be incubating something. But I’ll be back tomorrow and give her some play time. Okay, Miss Blue? You’re safe here. I know you’ll be a good girl.”
    After I’d led Miss Blue to the waiting room, as I was hanging around to find a vet tech to take her, I reached into my pocket for a treat and tried baiting her as I’d have done in the show ring. She had no idea what I wanted. On the other hand, she sat on command, albeit slowly. In the conformation ring, it’s undesirable to have a dog sit, so dogs intended only for the show ring sometimes don’t know the command. When I returned, I’d try a few obedience commands, but the world of malamute obedience was so small that if she’d been actively shown in that sport, I’d probably have heard of her. But she’d had some pet training. So far, she seemed to be housebroken. She walked quite well on leash. She hadn’t jumped on anyone.
    So, although she was show quality, she wasn’t an experienced show dog. The observation meant nothing. I’d heard experts say that the very best dogs weren’t in the show ring but in pet owners’