The next thing he was aware of was the back seat of a car. It smelled like a car. Not a new car with a peppermint tree air freshener hanging on the rearview mirror but an old used car. One that had been used by a family with kids for several years. One with ripped seats that had gum stuck under them and candy wrappers on the floor. One that was most definitely used.
It took him a few moments before he realized what he was doing there. He was groggy. The world was a blurry black and white mess and none of it made sense. He wasn't supposed to be here, he knew that much, but where he was supposed to be he wasn't sure.
He searched his memory, trying to figure out how he'd gotten here. He remembered an explosion, he remembered pain, and he remembered the boy. A curly-haired boy with a soft and soothing voice. He wondered where he was.
The pain was partly a memory and partly a reality. He felt a dull ache in his head, which was lesser than it was before. He whimpered slightly, and heard a voice. A soothing touch lightly going over his head. The boy's voice!
The car must have come to a stop, because he heard the doors open and felt himself being raised in the air and moving forward. Carried, he assumed. He wondered where he was being carried.
Theresa Robinson stepped into the examining room where the family was, glancing at the file in her hand. The name was Peterson. She'd never heard that name before, which meant that they were new clients. Most of the animals she'd treated in this hospital were repeat customers.
With long red hair and green eyes, Theresa was one of the suburb's more glamorous residents. She'd had to fight hard for acceptance in her career because of that. Quite a few one-dimensional people she had met thought that because she was beautiful she would have made a better model. Or they thought that she was pretty and therefore lacking in the brains department. But she wasn't and she'd made her way to this thriving practice in a small Californian suburb without a problem.
The dog that lay on the examining table, on the other hand, had quite a few problems. Theresa took a deep breath and greeted the family.
"Hello," she said warmly, trying to be as pleasant as possible as she greeted both the family and the dog. "What seems to be the problem with your dog?"
The mother, who appeared to be about thirty-five or so, answered the question. "He's not our dog," she replied. "The boys found him." She gestured to her two sons as she spoke.
"Where did you find him?" Theresa asked as she took her stethoscope out of the pocket of her lab coat and placed it on the dog's stomach.
The smaller, blond, boy with big blue eyes answered. "We found him when a factory exploded." At Theresa's look of surprise, he continued. "We were walking by and there was a loud bang. Mark went in to investigate, and found him."
"A factory exploded?"
"That's the theory," he replied with a slight frown. "Is he gonna be alright?"
Theresa put the stethoscope away and frowned. "I'm not sure," she replied as pleasantly as possible. "I'll have to do some tests. X-rays and blood samples. But I think he'll live."
"I think he's lucky," the brown haired boy spoke up. She nodded. Theresa left the family and headed for the radiation room. She frowned. Something about that dog's heartbeat hadn't sounded right. Not wrong, but at the same time not right.
"Buddy, sit down for once and stop pacing," Margaret scolded. "You're making me dizzy." Buddy glanced at his mother and nodded. He sat down in one of the hard plastic waiting room chairs and swung his feet back and forth, fidgeting endlessly.
He wondered how Mark could be so calm. He sat there, staring into space, appearing to look at nothing. Buddy had once asked him that, shortly after their father had left. He and his mother had been so hectic and lost, but Mark had seemed fine; serene, and calm.
"I'm not really calm," Mark had explained. "Inside, I'm going crazy. But I deal with it. I don't let anyone see it."
Buddy had wondered about that. He'd even tried that for awhile, but it hadn't worked. Mark told him it only worked for some people, and apparently it was true. It wasn't working for him.
"Mrs. Peterson?" a voice called. Buddy looked up. The veterinarian was standing in the doorway. Mark stood up, and Buddy did, too. The brothers followed their mother and Dr. Robinson back to the examination room.
"He seems to be fine except for a few minor scratches and bruises," Theresa reported cheerfully to the family. "No internal injuries, thank God," she added.
Mark nodded. Buddy looked excited. "Can we keep him, Mom, can we keep him?" he asked, practically jumping out of his shoes.
His mother frowned in thought. Theresa smiled.
"He seems to be about 4 years in age," she reported to the family. "I'm not sure of the breed exactly, but he's probably part golden retriever. Strangest dog I've ever met."
"Strange how?" Mark asked. He turned his brown eyes to her. She looked at him. His eyes seemed sad somehow but at the same time wise. She blinked to clear her thoughts.
"I don't know," she replied. "Just strange."
Mark nodded as though he knew exactly what she was talking about, but didn't elaborate. Buddy spoke up.
"Well, he's healthy, right?" he asked. "So we can keep him."
"Buddy, I don't know," his mother hesitated. "Dogs are a lot of work. And money," she added practically.
"He won't be too much trouble," Buddy promised. "Honest he won't. He's been good the whole time since we found him."
She sighed. Theresa smiled. Personally, she hoped the family took the dog. He would be just right for these boys. But she didn't want to interfere in the family argument and sway the mother's decision.
"All right," she replied finally. "I know if I don't you'll never stop bugging me about it."
Buddy grinned and cheered, and Mark even managed a smile, a sign of emotion for the first time since Theresa had seen him. His eyes lit up and lost a bit of their sadness. She smiled.
"Terrific," she cheered. "I'll have my assistant give you some information and some free samples of dog food. I'll give you my number," she added, taking a business card out of her pocket, "So you can call me any time." She scribbled something on the back of the card and handed it to Mrs. Peterson. "That's a place which sells some pet care items cheaply. I go there all the time." She smiled.
Mrs. Peterson smiled, but looked overwhelmed. "I wonder what I'm getting into," she commented on. Theresa chuckled.
"Don't worry," she told her. "I'm sure you'll love him." She ushered them into the waiting room and led them to her receptionist.
"What about the dog?" Buddy asked.
"Don't worry, I'll bring him out in a minute," she consoled him. "I'll even throw in the leash and collar," she added with a grin. Buddy was jumping up and down with excitement.
She turned towards the man sitting at the desk. "Joel, these are the Peterson's. They've never had a dog before. Give them some advice, will ya?"
Joel grinned a boyish smile, and nodded. "Sure, no problem," he replied and turned to the boys. She could hear him explaining the proper procedure for feeding a dog as she headed down the hallway where the animal was waiting, and smiled, glad that another animal had found a home.
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