My Sunshine by Catherine Anderson

Author:Catherine Anderson [Anderson, Catherine]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Group USA, Inc.
Published: 2011-10-20T08:12:46+00:00

Before driving home, Isaiah dropped by the clinic to fill Laura in on his meeting with Tucker. When he entered the kennels she was nowhere to be seen. He moved up the center aisle, glancing into each cage to be sure she wasn’t inside with a canine that needed a cuddle. All he saw was dogs, some happily eating from freshly filled bowls, others asleep on clean bedding. Not even Laura could clean a kennel well enough for someone to eat off the floors, but she came damn close. The cement gleamed in the fluorescent light. The whole place smelled primarily of lemon cleaning solution. The lady was a wonder.

When Tucker reached the Chesapeake’s cage, he reeled to a stop and stared. The big red dog was on his feet. That morning and again this evening, when Isaiah had administered the injections of testosterone, the Chesapeake had been almost comatose.

“I’ll be damned.”

Visibly shaky and weak, Rocky tried to wag his plumed tail and wobbled forward to poke his nose through the wire mesh.

“Hey, buddy.” Delight swept through Isaiah. He opened the cage and went inside. As he settled his hands on the animal’s silky fur, Rocky sank exhausted to the floor and whined. “You’re still a mighty sick boy.” Isaiah checked the canine’s gums. “You’re getting some color back, though. I can’t believe it. I thought you were a goner.”

“Isaiah?”

Laura’s voice startled him. He glanced over his shoulder and smiled. “Hey.” He looked back at the dog. “It worked, Laura. He was dying. Now look at him.”

She entered the cage and crouched down to join him in petting the weak animal. “I noticed how sick he seemed. What’s wrong with him?”

“Autoimmune. None of the usual treatments worked. A colleague of mine suggested that I try testosterone injections. He says spayed and neutered animals are deprived of their natural hormones, and that it can affect their health and immune systems.” Isaiah remembered he was talking to a woman with brain damage and broke off. “Sorry. I don’t mean to bore you.”

Her eyes shone with interest. “I’m not bored. I’ve thought for a long time that fixing dogs and cats might be bad for them. They get so fat and lazy. That can’t be very fun.”

“It’s not a popular theory in veterinary medi-cine,” Isaiah replied. “I sure as hell wasn’t taught that at vet school, and no vet I interned with ever mentioned it, either. Just the opposite.”

Laura sat beside the Chesapeake. In the spill of light she looked beautiful and cute, both at once. Over a pink knit top she wore an old flannel shirt that was so oversize it nearly swallowed her. Her hair lay in tousled disarray, the shiny wisps tempting his fingertips to touch them. Her mouth, a delicate rose pink, curved sweetly in a Madonna smile.

“That doesn’t mean all those vets were right.” She sent him an impish grin that dimpled her cheeks. “When they spayed my mom, she had an awful time.”

Isaiah had never heard anyone refer to a hysterectomy as a spay, and he almost laughed.

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