Gaits of Heaven

you,” he said. “I love you with all my heart.”
     

CHAPTER 32
     
    On that same Monday evening, Ted Green is congratulating himself on his success in the matter of limits and boundaries. Ted is pleased that over a wild mushroom fricassee delivered by his new cook and heated up according to her written directions, he calmly yet firmly refused to grant Wyeth’s irate demand for a new computer. Ted is now in the backyard with Dolfo, who is sniffing a shrub and beginning to raise his left leg. Clicker and treats in hand, Ted is prepared to reinforce a behavior heartily desired outdoors and outdoors only. He enjoys, I suspect, a sense of manly control over his environment. In my opinion, there’s nothing intrinsically masculine about his situation or his behavior, but if a gratifying illusion motivates him to train his dog, who am I to nitpick? As to Ted’s parenting, it’s outside my field of expertise, and when I think about what happens next, I’m glad of that.
    What happens is that Wyeth opens his bedroom window all the way and, without even glancing down to the backyard beneath, hurls his desktop computer, his monitor, and his printer, one right after the other, through the open window, which he then slams shut. As wood bangs against wood, howls and screams erupt from below, and Wyeth belatedly looks down to see Ted and Dolfo, both of whom have been struck. Wyeth grabs cash and his cell phone, races downstairs and out the front door, and runs away.
    Ted has had the bad luck to be hit by the computer itself, the heavy CPU, but the good luck to have been struck on his right leg and foot rather than on his head. Dolfo is racing around in mad figure eights. It is clear to Ted that something, either the monitor or the printer, hit Dolfo, who howled in pain; perhaps the damage is internal. Fortunately, Ted’s cell phone escaped injury. After hauling himself to a sitting position, he unhesitatingly calls Dr. Tortorello. He is, however, disappointed to reach his psychiatrist’s answering machine and not the man himself. Still, he leaves a message.
     

CHAPTER 33
     
    If my dogs and I ever suffer the misfortune of being injured by heavy objects descending from above, I’ll have the sense not to call a mental-health professional, even Rita. These people have no common sense. I won’t call a dog trainer, either, but that’s exactly what Ted did. When I’d finally elicited a few facts from him, I realized that calling our number had actually been sensible, if unintentionally so: Dolfo needed an immediate veterinary exam. Consequently, Steve and I got into his van, where he always kept basic veterinary instruments and supplies. By then, Leah and Caprice had returned. Leah insisted on accompanying us, mainly in case Steve needed help with Dolfo, and Caprice tagged along, too, perhaps because of an unexpected sense of loyalty to a family that wasn’t quite one.
    When we arrived at Ted’s, he and Dolfo were still in the yard, but Barbara Leibowitz and George McBane were with them. As psychiatrists, they’d both gone to medical school, but I doubted that either one had treated a nonpsychiatric problem in decades. Even so, George was trying to examine Ted’s right leg and foot. Ted was lying on a teak bench, and someone had cut the fabric of his trousers and removed his shoe and sock. His foot and ankle were purple and swollen, but instead of groaning about physical pain, he was barrag-ing George with complaints about his anxiety and pleading for Valium.
    Barbara had taken charge of Dolfo. “Steve, thank God you’re here,” she said. “I can’t find anything wrong, but Ted says something must’ve hit Dolfo. I heard some yelping and howling. As far as I can tell, Ted had Dolfo out here, and Wyeth threw this stuff out the window.”
    “Not intentionally,” said Ted.
    “Of course not,” Caprice said. “Wyeth merely opened a window, and then his computer flew out all on its own.“
    “Has anyone called an ambulance?” I asked.
    Ted was vehement. “No! Don’t call anyone! If you call nine-one-one, the police will come, and Wyeth didn’t mean any harm. It was an accident.”
    “Ted,” George said, "I’m rusty, but I think your ankle’s fractured and probably some of the bones in your foot. I can’t treat you.”
    Meanwhile, Steve was kneeling next to Dolfo and running his hands over the dog. Dolfo’s ridiculously long tail was waving in the air, and his oversized tongue was hanging merrily out of