The Dog That Saved Stewart Coolidge (20 page)

This kiss was more delicate, more chaste, more refined, more meaningful than any kiss Stewart had ever seen on TV or at the movies.

It was a perfect kiss.

An absolutely perfect kiss.

It did not last for multiple moments. There was no groaning or murmuring.

It was simply the most perfect kiss that Stewart could ever imagine sharing with another person.

And when the kiss stopped, and they both returned to their normal heights and positions, that's when Hubert barked loudly, three times, almost shouting with joy, and then bouncing, like a kangaroo, in the moonlit darkness before them, as happy as an animal could ever expect to be.

And that's when Lisa hugged Stewart, and that's when Hubert barked again, and that's when two porch lights snapped on, from opposite sides of the street, and that's when Lisa whispered loudly, “Run!” and that's when the three of them took off, two of them giggling and laughing and one of them woofing with great canine joy, through the dark neighborhood south of town.

Stewart had read somewhere that a gentleman remains a gentleman at all times. He wasn't sure what that entailed, but when he said good night to Lisa, instead of another kiss, which perhaps would have been anticlimactic, at least for this one particular evening, he hugged her. It was a soft hug, tender and gentle, and as Lisa closed the door she kept her eyes on Stewart until the last moment. And he read that as her reluctance to say good night and that she had had a good time on their walk.

This is all so confusing,
he thought to himself.
Happy, but really confusing. For a novice. I guess I'm doing okay. Despite what Grams said. Despite my mother.

Stewart did not see the small sliver of apprehension in Lisa's eyes as she closed the door, thinking that this night had been magical, and wonderful, and memorable, if only the word “Pittsburgh” hadn't kept popping into her thoughts.

And for Stewart, all that emotion times two, but he also worried as he closed his own door behind him.

What now? I mean, I'm a bag boy at a supermarket. That can't be what girls dream about, can it? Meeting some guy whose most important daily task is asking “Paper or plastic?”

While the two human players in this drama were happy but confused, the canine player seemed beside himself with joy. He continued to head-butt against Stewart's leg, demanding to be petted and paid attention to, grinning wildly, grinning as if everything he had hoped had come to some sort of fruition.

But dogs can't see ahead. I read that somewhere. Their sense of the future is just not there. He's happy now. So am I, actually. But I'm worried about what's going to happen.

He scratched behind Hubert's ears.

And he doesn't know what's going to happen.

And, unknown to both more advanced players in this evening's activities, Hubert did understand what the future meant. And while he could not foresee what was about to happen, it was also obvious that he had perfect peace in the path that their lives, or loves, would take.

He grinned up at Stewart.

Just be patient. We will help Stewart see.

T
HE FOLLOWING
MORNING
, just a few minutes before seven, Stewart stumbled out of bed, responding to a soft tapping at the door.

It was Lisa.

He did a quick body scan. He was wearing athletic running shorts and a Penn State T-shirt. That was enough coverage for company.

“Listen, I can't stay since I'm already almost late. But I needed to tell you something.”

Uh-oh. I did do something wrong.

“Hubert has to see a vet. All this time, and I haven't even considered that. He needs to be checked. He could have some sort of disease or parasite or something. And he needs a rabies shot. What if he accidentally bites someone? He's got to be protected. We have to get him to a vet. Like right away.”

Stewart thought about trying to smooth his hair into a less wild style but thought it would only draw attention to it. Lisa seemed too preoccupied to notice.

“Okay,” he said.

“What time do you get off work?”

“Two.”

“Okay. Meet me back here as soon as you can. I heard about a vet in Coudersport that's really good. And she's open until six. I checked.”

“Coudersport? That's like an hour away.”

Lisa nodded, as if in a hurry.

“Yep. But if we go to a vet in town—well, they've all seen the posters and the
Gazette
. They'll turn us in. We have to go out of town for this.”

“Oh. Yeah. You're right.”

“Good. Then I'll see you back here at two.”

“Okay.”

Lisa stood in the doorway for just a second, then turned back.

“And last night, Stewart, was really, really special.”

“Oh.”

“I mean fireworks sort of special.”

What do I say now?

“Well…for me, too. Really special.”

She smiled, a sort of knowing smile.

“Good.”

And that was when Hubert barked, not loudly, but loud enough, and Lisa hunched over, shut the door quickly, and hurried down the steps. And Stewart turned to Hubert, put his finger to his lips and hissed, “Shhhh.”

Lisa drove faster than Stewart remembered her driving. Not excessively fast, not like a speed demon, but around ten miles an hour faster than whatever posted speed limit there was. Hubert did not seem to mind, but Stewart was nervous. Speeding tickets, or the possibility of speeding tickets, made him nervous. And his old Nissan, now dead, seldom managed to go fast enough to break any rural speed limit.

Despite her speed, Lisa was also a very good driver, always looking at the road, even when talking, and always keeping her hands in the “nine and three position” on the steering wheel.

“So, how do you know this vet?” Stewart asked.

“A customer at the Rooster talked about her. There's not that many lady vets in the area and when I was little, I wanted to be a vet.”

“Why didn't you? You're smart enough.”

Stewart winced after he said that, thinking that it may be not only an obtuse compliment, but perhaps some sort of backhanded comment on female intelligence.

But Lisa did not appear to be offended.

“I ran into high school chemistry. None of it made sense. Atomic numbers. And I sort of figured that to be a vet you might have to know something about chemistry. And besides, I liked writing more. I was better at writing. I love animals, but writing is who I am.”

Stewart nodded.

He wondered, for the next three miles, why he had chosen political science as his major at Penn State. He wasn't political, didn't really like politics, and had no patience with layers upon layers of bureaucracy and systems organization.

He wished he had a passion, like Lisa.

Maybe it's not too late to find a passion.

“We're almost here,” Lisa announced, bringing him out of his reverie.

He stared out his window.

“Not much of a town, is it?”

“It's about the same size as Wellsboro.”

Stewart smiled.

“Like I said, not much of a town.”

Lisa broke her safe-driving record by letting go of the wheel with her right hand and playfully punching Stewart in the arm, giggling as she did.

“Look for Broad Street.”

They drove on for just another minute.

“One of us should get a GPS unit in their car,” Lisa said.

“I've got a map thing on my phone, but this place is like two pixels wide.”

Stewart was pretty sure Lisa would have punched him again, but she was too intent on finding the address.

“Next street,” Stewart said.

“Good eyes.”

And they pulled up in front of the large Victorian House with the sign
EMMA GRAINGER DVM
in front.

“Looks like our house,” Lisa remarked.

“But in better repair.”

Hubert was up now, sniffing loudly. If Stewart had to guess, he would have said that the sniffs were nervous in nature.

The three of them got out, and Hubert had to be urged to accompany them to the porch. Stewart actually had to grab his collar to get him through the front door. Once inside, the dog huddled behind Stewart's legs as Lisa went to the counter.

“Hi,” she said, in a most innocent manner, “I called earlier. Lisa Goodly. We're bringing Hubert in. He's a stray, so we don't know if he's had any shots or not.”

The young woman at the counter nodded.

“You can go into examination room number 2. We actually only have one exam room, but saying we have a number two sounds better, don't you think?”

Stewart hoisted Hubert onto the stainless-steel table in room number 2. The dog was trembling, just a little.

“I know, Hubert. It smells funny in here.”

The vet, a most attractive younger woman, came in wearing a white lab coat and carrying a stethoscope. She introduced herself and Lisa gave a quick, though somewhat misleading, history of how Hubert came to be with them.

“He just showed up one day. And he's such a nice dog. We asked all around, but no one seemed to be missing a dog. And we'd like to make sure he's healthy and get all his shots and stuff.”

Dr. Grainer nodded and began an examination, listening to his heart and lungs, taking his temperature, which Hubert did not like one bit. She brought out a small unit that looked like a fat magnifying glass without the glass, and slowly ran it over his body, focusing on the shoulder blades and neck. Then she felt that area, carefully and thoroughly.

Hubert did not mind that as much as his temperature check.

“No microchips that I can read or feel.”

“Good,” Lisa said. “I mean, good that no one thinks he's lost. Well, maybe they do—but you know what I mean.”

“I do,” the vet said.

She looked very carefully at Hubert's face.

If Stewart had been asked, he might have said that there was an unasked question in her eyes. She checked his eyes and ears and teeth.

“He looks to be in good shape. The scars he has are old—but they healed nicely. There must have been some serious abuse in his past. But besides that, he does need a shot—a combination vaccine.”

“Rabies, right?” Lisa said.

“Rabies, yes, and parvovirus, distemper, and hepatitis as well. I like to give all at once. Some vets do one at a time, but his will save you some money. And it's just as effective.”

“Good,” Stewart said.

She slipped out and returned with a syringe, tapping at it with her finger, just like real doctors do when they give injections. The shot itself took Hubert by surprise, and he yelped and twisted when she injected him.

“Good boy,” she said, petting his head.

Hubert did not look like he was buying her pleasantries—not after what she had just done.

The vet turned to write something down on Hubert's chart.

Lisa leaned to Stewart and whispered into his ear.

“She's wearing a cross. I bet she's a Christian.”

Stewart was not certain that wearing a cross implied belief, but it seemed to make Lisa very happy and he nodded back at her.

“Well, you're good to go. The young lady at the front desk will have your bill and your rabies tags. And good luck. Hubert seems like a very nice dog.”

“He is,” Lisa said. “Thanks.”

Stewart took out his checkbook and paid for the injections and exam—more than he expected, and more than he usually spent on his own health care. But Lisa was right. He needed to be sure that Hubert was healthy and posed no health risk to them or anyone else.

Above the reception area, Stewart pointed to a framed poster.

I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me. Philippians 4:13.

“You were right. She probably does go to church.”

The young woman behind the counter smiled.

“You're right, sort of. I mean, she does go to church. She has to. She's dating a pastor in town.”

As the three of them piled into Lisa's car and drove off, Emma, the veterinarian, sat behind her desk, thinking, and worrying.

This sort of thing used to be easy. Before I met Jake.

She sighed deeply and picked up the phone. On her desk was a faxed copy of Hubert's picture—sent from the Wellsboro Police Department to all veterinarians in the tri-county area.

It's the bandit dog. For certain. A very good-looking animal.

The phone call connected and she heard the buzz of the first ring.

I just can't lie anymore. He's managed to complicate one more aspect of my life.

And just before the police picked up, she looked at Pastor Jake's picture on her desk and smiled.

But he makes it all worth it. He does.