Say Good-bye (4 page)

“What?” She frowns, puzzled by the tissue I’m holding up.

“Do you think Yum-Yum hurt his mouth chasing that ball?” I ask.

“Maybe…” She lifts Yum-Yum’s chin with her finger. “Look here, little guy,” she says, playfully stern. “What have you done to yourself?” She peers closely at him.

Someone behind us beeps. The light has turned green. Jane turns back to the road. A light frown creases her brow as she drives through the intersection. “I’m sure it’s nothing.”

“Yeah,” I say, feeling a little nervous. I crumple the tissue and throw it away in the tiny trash bag Jane keeps on the floor.

“Yum-Yum’s due for a checkup anyway,” Jane goes on. “When we get back to the clinic, I’ll see if the doc can take a look at the old boy.”

•  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •

A
s soon as we get back to the clinic, Jane and Yum-Yum wait for Gran while I take Sneakers outside. But he won’t, you know, do his business.

“Go ahead, Sneakers. Be a good boy.” My voice drops to a whisper. “Come on. Just do it … Please?”

I stand over him, my fists on my hips. “What are you waiting for?” I hate to rush the poor dog, but I’m in a hurry. I want to go find out about Yum-Yum. I want to make sure he’s all right. How long should it take to go to the bathroom? “Come on, Sneakers. Go! I don’t have all day.”

David comes out of the clinic and stops to watch me. Nothing like having an audience. “Hey, how’s it going?” he asks.

“It’s not,” I say grumpily.

David laughs and shakes his long bangs out of his eyes. “What’s wrong?”

I feel kind of embarrassed talking about this with a boy. But Gran always says there’s no need to be squeamish about the bodily functions of animals. “I… I’m having trouble training him,” I finally say. “You know, to go outside. Do you have any ideas?”

David chuckles. “Not me. All I know about is training horses. And housebreaking is one thing you don’t have to worry about with them!” David is totally crazy about horses. Whenever Gran has to make a visit to a stable to treat a sick horse, David’s the first to volunteer.

Sneakers barks happily. He runs a circle around me, then flops down on the ground. He sniffs something in the grass and starts to paw at it.

This is so embarrassing! How are you supposed to
make
a dog go to the bathroom anyway? I’m totally clueless.

“Maybe you should take him behind some
bushes or something,” David jokes. “Maybe he’s too embarrassed to go in front of you.”

“Thanks a lot, David.”

“No problem!” He laughs and heads across the street, toward his house.

“How come you’re leaving?” I call after him. I know David loves this place. He says he’s been pestering Gran for years to let him volunteer.

“I’ve got to go baby-sit my little sister, Ashley, because my big brother, Brian, has more important things to do,” he says with a scowl. “Can you believe it? Instead of staying here and saving lives all afternoon, I’ll be playing Let’s Go to the Mall. There ought to be a law against forcing boys to play Barbies with five-year-old girls!”

I laugh, and for once I think that maybe it’s better to be an only child than the middle of three.

“Hey, about Sneakers,” he calls back over his shoulder. “Maybe you should ask Maggie. She knows a lot about dogs.”

I frown at David’s back as he hurries across the street to his house. Go ask Maggie?
Hmmph!
The last thing I want to do is admit to her what a failure I am at training Sneakers. Maybe I should check Gran’s library for a book …

I look toward the clinic. I love Sneakers and want to do a good job with him, but I’m dying to go inside to see what’s up with Yum-Yum. “Okay, Sneakers,” I say, trying to sound firm. “A couple more minutes. Tops. Then I’m taking you back in.”

I tap my foot on the ground and glare at him.

Nothing.

“Come on, Sneak. I have to check on Yum-Yum!”

Maybe he is nervous with me watching. I turn around and pretend to ignore him for a minute, then I turn back around.

Still nothing.

I give up. Maybe he just doesn’t have to go. I take him back inside the house. I check to see that he has fresh water and give him a little doggie treat. “Now, be a good dog,” I say. He looks up at me with his adorable brown eyes, and all my crabbiness melts away. I bend down and give him a hug. “Don’t worry,” I say softly. “We’re
both
new at this! We’ll get better soon, I promise!

Then I hurry over to the clinic. I find Gran and Jane in the Dolittle Room with Yum-Yum.
Both of Gran’s examining rooms are named after famous animal doctors from books: Dr. Dolittle from the book by Hugh Lofting, and Herriot from James Herriot, the pen name of an English veterinarian who wrote fiction based on his experiences. I just read one of his most famous books,
All Creatures Great and Small.

“Can I come in?” I ask.

Gran looks up at her friend. “Okay, Jane?”

Jane smiles. “Sure, come on in, Zoe. Yum-Yum’s always glad to have you around.”

Yum-Yum wags his tail when he sees me, and I smile at him, but I stay back so I won’t get in Gran’s way. Yum-Yum looks so tiny on Gran’s big examining table.

First she checks Yum-Yum’s heart and lungs with a stethoscope. Then she moves her strong, gentle hands over the little dog’s body, feeling here and there.

Yum-Yum pants happily and wags his tail. He thinks Dr. Mac is petting him, but I know Gran is giving him a thorough examination.

Next Gran shines a little light into Yum-Yum’s eyes. Then she gently opens his mouth and shines a light inside. Yum-Yum’s mouth is so tiny, I’m surprised she can see anything.

Gran’s brows knit as she feels Yum-Yum’s teeth—like she’s checking for a loose tooth. Do dogs this age still lose teeth?

Then she shines her light all around the inside of Yum-Yum’s mouth. She pauses when she looks at the roof of his mouth, like she’s trying to see something more clearly.

“Have you noticed anything unusual in his behavior lately?” she asks Jane.

Jane shakes her head. “No. I mean, I don’t think so. Not really…”

Gran keeps looking at the roof of Yum-Yum’s mouth. You might not notice if you hadn’t been around Gran much, but I see something change in her expression.

Jane notices, too. She frowns and starts to fiddle with her hands. “Well, I have noticed Yum-Yum’s not eating quite as much as he usually does. And he’s started taking more naps. But I guess I just thought it was this summer heat—and his age. Kind of like me!” She’s trying to joke, but I can tell she’s suddenly worried. She bites her lip. “Nothing to be concerned about, is it, J.J.?”

I look at Gran, expecting her to say, “No, just a routine question.” But she doesn’t say that.
She lets go of Yum-Yum’s mouth and moves on to his ears. She just keeps looking, checking, and I know something’s up, even though her face is calm as she continues to feel Yum-Yum with experienced hands. It’s almost as if her fingers have sight, looking for things beneath the surface. “How many of these therapy visits has he been doing?”

“A lot,” Jane admits. “Maybe too many. It’s just, there’s a lot of demand for therapy dogs. More than we can handle. The kids are so crazy about Yum-Yum that I hate to say no.”

Gran nods. She is gently feeling along Yum-Yum’s neck, checking for lymph glands.

“Um, also…” Jane looks nervous, but she tries to chuckle. “I’ve noticed he’s had pretty bad breath lately, even though I brush his teeth and have them cleaned regularly. Is that old age, too?”

Gran smirks. “Maybe a little.”

Jane and I watch silently as Gran’s hands go over Yum-Yum’s neck and ears again. I study her face closely. It stays calm and cool, yet friendly—but then … there’s a tiny change in her expression again. Like she’s noticed something.
What?

I bite my thumbnail and wait.

“J.J.,” Jane says, forcing a bright laugh, “say something. You’re making me nervous.”

Gran seems to have finished her examination. She rubs her forehead a moment, sighs, and runs a hand through her short white hair. When she looks up, I see it in her eyes. Something’s wrong.

“Jane, I’ve found a few things,” she says simply.

Things? What does that mean?

“What kind of things?” Jane asks anxiously.

Gran smiles kindly at her as she gives Yum-Yum’s head a good rub. “Yum-Yum’s lymph glands are swollen. And I’ve found a black tumor on the roof of Yum-Yum’s mouth—”

“A tumor!” Jane exclaims. “You mean …”

Gran lays a calming hand on her friend’s arm. “I think we should keep Yum-Yum here overnight and do a few tests. I’d like to take some chest X-rays and do a biopsy.”

“A biopsy!” I gasp.

Mom’s character on the soap had to get a biopsy once. That’s how I know what it is. It’s what they do to find out if a lump is cancerous.

“You mean … like in cancer?” I ask.

Tears well up in Jane’s eyes. “Oh, my gosh!
He’s going to be all right, though, isn’t he, J.J.?
Isn’t
he?”

I can see Gran cringe a little as she hands Jane a tissue. “It might be nothing,” she says, nodding. “But I need to do some tests to make a diagnosis.”

“Sure, J.J.” Jane’s voice softens, and she seems to go limp. It’s so strange. Jane is always so bubbly and cheerful—Gran says she was probably born smiling. So it’s even weirder to see her face now. I can tell—she knows something’s wrong, too.

“What exactly do you have to do to him?” Jane asks hesitantly.

“I’ll put him to sleep for fifteen minutes,” Gran says. “And I’ll make a very small incision in the tumor in his mouth so that I can remove a tiny amount of skin tissue. Then I’ll look at it under a microscope.”

“And?” Jane asks.

“Any black pigment in the cells would indicate a malignancy.”

“Cancer,” Jane says. She picks up Yum-Yum and buries her face in the small dog’s fur.

After a moment, she tells Yum-Yum, “You know, sweetie, I’ve got to get back to the shop,
and I’m going to be so busy. Dr. Mac says you can stay here tonight. Won’t that be fun? What do you say? Want to have a sleepover with Dr. Mac and Zoe?”

Yum-Yum barks and wags his tail, and I smile in spite of my worried feelings.

“You’ll take good care of him?” she asks.

“Of course,” Gran says. “And I’m sure Zoe wouldn’t mind looking after him, would you?”

“I’d be glad to.” I flash Jane one of my brightest smiles, hoping I’ve inherited some of Mom’s acting genes, because right now I feel like bursting into tears. Cancer! Yum-Yum? It can’t be true!

Jane writes down a lot of instructions for me. What to feed Yum-Yum. When to feed him. What his favorite TV show is. A lot of little things. It seems to make her feel better.

Then she gives Yum-Yum a kiss on the top of his head. “You be a good boy, and I’ll see you soon,” she says. She wipes her eyes with the tissue and hurries out.

I wait for Jane to leave. Then I whirl around to face Gran and blurt out, “Does he really have cancer? I didn’t know dogs could get that.”

Gran nods. “A lot of dogs get cancer, just like
people do. Especially as they get older. But come on, now. Yum-Yum’s a tough little dog. So let’s think positive. Maybe it’s nothing. Nothing at all.”

Gran is trying to make me feel better, but she can’t fool me. I can tell Gran is worried. And so am I.

•  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •

H
i, honey! Did you get my message?”

It’s my mom on the phone, calling from California. I’m sitting at the receptionist’s desk in the clinic, sorting through a pile of files.

“No!” I exclaim. “When did you call? Are you coming to get me?”

Silence on the other end of the phone.

“Uh, well—” Mom’s enthusiasm fades a little. “Not exactly, sweetie. What I meant was, I’ve been working on my ability to communicate with people mentally—ESP, telepathy, that kind of stuff. I thought it might help me get some work.”
She laughs at her joke. “So I tried sending you a mental message.”

“I guess my line was busy.”

Mom laughs. “Zoe! That’s very funny!”

“So… what was your message?” I ask.

“I think I’ve got a part in a sitcom!” she almost squeals.

“What? I thought you already had a part.”

“Oh, didn’t Gran tell you?” she asks. “That show is on hold. I don’t know if it will ever go back into production. And it really wasn’t a very good part anyway. But this one—it’s a real winner!

“That’s great!” I say. My hopes swell like a birthday balloon.

“Well, it’s not for sure or anything,” Mom goes on, “but it looks really good—”

“Oh, Mom! Tell me all about it!”

“Well, it’s a callback for a pilot,” she begins.

A little air seeps out of my balloon. “A callback?”

“Yeah. I went to an audition, and now they’re calling me back for a second read. That means they’re seriously considering me for the role!”

“Oh.”

I guess I sound disappointed, because Mom insists,
“No, Zoe, that’s really good! That means I’ve almost got the part.” She takes a deep breath. “Oh, Zoe, doll, this part was made for me—it
is
me!

“That’s great, Mom. So now what happens?”

“I’ll read again tomorrow, and then I should hear something next week, maybe. But I gotta tell you, sweetheart, it’s looking like a sure thing.”

“Great!” I say. Then I try to send her a psychic message of my own.

She doesn’t get it.

So I try the direct route. “So when can I come…” I start to say “home,” but “home” to me is New York. I’ve never even been to California. So I just say “…out there?”

Again, silence on the other end. Not good.

“Mom?”

“Soon, honey. I promise.”

Soon.
One of the vaguest words in the English language.
Soon
can mean anything. Seconds, minutes, days… years!

“How soon is soon?” I ask in a small voice.

“Well, you see, like I said, the part is for a pilot,” she explains. “For a midseason replacement.”

This “sure thing” is sounding more unsure every second.

“So if I get the part—” She laughs. “I mean, when I get the part, we’ll shoot a pilot episode. Then they’ll use that to try to sell the series. And if one of the major networks picks it up, well go into full production and be on the air by January.”