There were cars in the parking lot when we arrived at the clinic, which was a relief. Shane led Foxy to the locked door while I went ahead, knocking on the glass.
A tall, slim Black man in blue scrubs appeared on the other side, pointing at the hours painted on the door. I pointed at the dog, dripping ick on his sidewalk. He hesitated, then opened the door. “What’s going on?”
“She’s in labor,” Shane said. “For hours and hours.”
“How many actually?”
“More than seven, maybe eight. And this guy who knows dogs didn’t think she would be having them so soon.”
The man’s expression stayed kind and calm. “That could be okay, but if she’s had discharge all those hours, we should check her out. Come on in.” He held the door wide.
I followed Shane and Foxy into the dimly lit lobby. The guy in scrubs flipped a switch to brighten the room. “Hang on a second.” He disappeared toward the back and I heard him calling, “Louisa?”
A minute later, a woman also wearing scrubs strode out. “I’m Dr. Louisa Blair.” She gave us a nod but immediately knelt by Foxy. “Who’s this pretty girl?” She eased a hand toward Foxy’s face, focused on the dog’s reaction.
“Foxy,” Shane said. “She’s friendly. She’s pregnant.”
“And in labor. I see that.” Dr. Blair lifted Foxy’s lip, pressed on her gums, slid a hand to the inside of her thigh. “She seems pretty stable,” she went on after a moment. “But Oscar said she’s been in labor for hours? Has there been discharge all that time?”
“Like, eight. And yeah.”
“Do you know how big the father dog was?”
“No. The guy who brought her to Arthur said no one knew.”
The vet raised her eyebrows. “She’s one of Arthur’s rescues?”
“Yeah.” Shane nodded. “I’m watching her because he didn’t have room.”
Dr. Blair chuckled. “I’m not surprised. Well, the good news is, that gets her a nice discount. The bad news is, she might need a cesarean. Not for sure, but once there’s discharge like she has, I like to see puppies a bit quicker than eight hours. If it’s okay with you, I’ll take her in back, and we’ll start with an X-ray. It’s lucky you got here before the first surgeries so we have time to check her out. Should she go under your name or Arthur’s?”
Shane looked at me.
I asked, “For payment?”
“For that, yeah, but mainly for authorizing things like surgery.”
“I guess Arthur’s,” Shane said. “He signed the papers.”
“That makes it easy.” Dr. Blair stood and smiled at Shane. “We have all his contact info. We’ll add Foxy to his long, long list of pets. Do you know anything else about her? Age? Vaccines? Food or any medications?”
Shane frowned down at Foxy, jaw tense as if he might’ve done something wrong. “Not really? The guy said she was at least a year old. Arthur had me feeding puppy chow. She didn’t come with any medications.”
The tall man came through from the hallway, stopped beside Shane, and patted his arm. “If she’s a young dog, odds are she’s not on any. We’ll take good care of her.”
The vet turned to him, her tone no-nonsense. “Take her on back. One lateral rad. Let’s have a look at those puppies. Then draw for a wellness panel and heartworm. I’ll join you in a minute.”
The man held out a hand for Foxy’s leash. When Shane hesitated, the guy said, “I’m Oscar and I’ll be Foxy’s nurse today. She’ll be fine. We’re just going to count the puppies and see how big they are.”
“Oh. Okay.” Shane passed over the leash. “You’ll be gentle, right? She’s gone through a lot of shit— I mean, stuff— in the last couple of days.”
Dr. Blair said, “She’s in good hands with Oscar. He’s my best technician.”
I watched Oscar lead the dog off to the back. “I can pay,” I told the doctor. “I want her to have the best. Whatever she needs. Don’t ask Arthur about his budget.”
Beside me, Shane said, “Fuck,” and strode out the doors. Through the front windows, I saw him stop on the sidewalk with his hands clamped to his head.
“Is he okay?” Dr. Blair asked.
