Carolina Moon

baby goat who’d managed to eat the best part of Malibu Barbie until her arm became lodged in his throat, and Fluffy’s vile temper, and he’d had a pisser of a morning.
    He was cursing, sweating, bleeding, when Faith rushed in through the back. “Wade, honey, can you take a look at Bee for me? I think she’s feeling poorly.”
    “Take a number.”
    “It’ll only take a minute.”
    “I haven’t got a minute.”
    “Oh now … goodness, what happened to your hands?” Faith watched as Wade narrowly avoided another swipe and tucked the cat firmly under his arm. “Did that mean old pussycat scratch you, darling?”
    “Kiss my ass” was his best response.
    “Did she get you there, too?” Faith called out as he marched into the waiting area. “It’s all right, baby.” She nuzzled the puppy. “Daddy’s going to take good care of you in just a minute.”
    He came back in to scrub up and dug out antiseptic.
    “She’s been whimpering and sort of moaning all morning. And her nose is a little warm. She doesn’t want to play. Just lies there. See?”
    Faith set Bee down, and the pup squatted by Wade’s feet, looked up at him pitifully, then proceeded to throw up on his shoes.
    “Oh! Oh! For goodness sake. Must’ve been something she ate. Lilah said I shouldn’t give her all those cookies.” Faith bit her lip but couldn’t quite hold in the giggle. Wade simply stood staring at her, antiseptic in one hand, a thin trickle of blood on the other, and puppy vomit on his shoes.
    “We’re awfully sorry. Bee, don’t you eat that. That’s just nasty.” She scooped up the puppy. “I bet you feel so much better now, don’t you, sweetheart? There, see that, Wade? She’s wagging her tail again. I just knew if I brought her in to you, everything would be fine.”
    “Is that how it looks to you? Like everything’s fine?”
    “Well, Bee’s sicked up what was worrying her, and I don’t imagine it’s the first time you’ve had a little doggie puke on you.”
    “I’ve got a waiting room full of patients, my hands are scratched to shit, and now my shoes are going to stink for the rest of the day.”
    “Well, go on up and change them then.” She stepped back when he made one of his hands into a claw. She loved the light that came into his eyes when his dander was up. “Now, Wade.”
    He bunched the claw into a fist, then punched it lightly between his own eyes. “I’m going to go ditch these shoes, and when I come back, I want you to have cleaned this up.”
    “Clean it up? Myself?”
    “That’s right. Put your dog back in surgery, get a mop and bucket, and deal with it. I don’t have time for this.” He reached down, pulled off the ruined shoes at the heels. “And make it fast. I’m behind schedule.”
    “Daddy’s a little cross this morning,” she murmured to Bee, as Wade strode out to the garbage. She looked at the floor, grimaced. “Well, at least you got the best part of it on his shoes. It’s not so bad.”
    When he came back she was dutifully if inexpertly mopping. There were suds gliding across the linoleum on little waves of water. It almost seemed to him they had a current. But he didn’t have the heart to complain.
    “Almost done here. Bee’s in the back playing with her squeaky bone. She’s bright-eyed and frisky again.” Faith dumped the mop in the bucket, sloshed more water. “I guess this needs to dry off some.”
    As an alternative to screaming, he rubbed his hands over his face and laughed. “Faith, you are unique.”
    “Of course I am.”
    She stepped back as he picked up the bucket, emptied it, rinsed off the mop, then began to slop up suds and water.
    “Oh. Well, I suppose that works, too.”
    “Do me a favor. Go on out there and tell Mrs. Jenkins to bring Mitch on back. That’s the beagle who’s been howling the last half hour. And if you can find a way to maintain some sort of order out there for the next twenty minutes, I’ll buy you a fancy dinner at your choice of restaurants.”
    “Champagne?”
    “A magnum.”
    “Let’s just see what I can do.”
    He got his twenty minutes, barely, when he heard the urgent cry.
    “Wade! Wade, come quick!”
    He bolted out, saw Piney Cobb staggering under the weight of Mongo.
    “Ran out into the road, right in front of me. God almighty. He’s bleeding pretty bad.”
    “Bring him in the back.”
    He moved fast. The dog’s breathing was labored, his pupils fixed and dilated. His thick fur was matted with