“As opposed to not? She’s a lovely dog and I don’t mind.”Is that the right thing to say? Did Gideon have Tiffany sit in on his sessions? Did he bring Lucky?
“Come along, Tiffany.” Justin clicked his tongue.
The lovely lab trotted behind us as we made our way into his office.
First to strike me were the bright-yellow walls. Soothing and yet sunny at the same time. His desk was off to one side. In the middle of the space was a long couch with two high-backed chairs across from it.
Justin gestured for me to sit.
I shrugged, uncertain of protocol.
“Wherever you’re comfortable.”
“That’s not really possible.”God, did I just say that out loud?
He smiled. “The couch is marginally more comfortable, and this isn’t a shrink’s office. I’m not going to ask you to lie back and list your troubles while I psychoanalyze you.”
That made me laugh because clearly he understood the hesitancy. “I had to do a psych rotation in med school.”
“Ah.”
I sat on the couch, then put my mug on the coffee table so I could consume my bun while the thing was still warm.
Justin sat on a chair across from me. He also put his mug on a side table and dug into his bun.
We ate in silence for a few moments, but then I noticed Tiffany. I swallowed. “Are we supposed to give her some? I’ve never had a dog and so don’t know protocol.”
“Nah. Tiffany doesn’t eat when she’s working unless, for example, a young patient wants to feed her. Kids can be empathetic, and if they feel the need to give treats, and it’s appropriate, we might allow it.”
The dog’s ears didn’t even flicker at the wordtreats. I was impressed.
“So she just sits here?” I gestured to where she sat—by the coffee table midway between Justin and myself.
“She can. Or, if you’re comfortable, she can lie by your feet. Some clients prefer she have her chin on their knees. Some even ask permission for her to jump on the couch and join them.”
“Really?” I eyed the beautiful dog. “And she doesn’t shed?”
“We vacuum the couch when necessary. We are a working ranch, though. We encourage informality. When possible. For some people, they’re just not able to let go like that.”
I eyed my wool pants. “These are going to the dry cleaners anyway.” I met the dog’s gaze. “Would you like to come up?”
She shot her gaze to Justin.
“If you pat the spot next to you and sayup,then she knows it’s okay.”
With more confidence than I felt, I patted the spot next to me and said, “Up.”
She leapt gracefully into the air and landed next to me. She curled up and laid her chin on my thigh.
“Oh.”
“If you’re not comfortable—”
“No. This is fine.” I met Justin’s gaze. “Truly. My, uh…” Tentatively, I stroked her snout. “My ex-husband has a dog who my kids adore. When I was younger, I wanted a dog. Now, with my job as demanding as it is, dogs simply aren’t a possibility. But I want to be more comfortable around them. So I can show my kids that I can be…less stuffy.”
“You’re worried about your children thinking you’re toostuffy?”
I shrugged. “My ex and his partner are easygoing. I haven’t always been. I worry so much about the kids that sometimes I forget to just let go and to let them have fun being kids. I’ve worked in the ER. I’ve done a rotation in orthopedic surgery. I know how easily little ones can get hurt. Well, everyone, in fact. Humans are amazingly frail, and it’s a wonder we stay alive.”
