The Good, the Bad & the Beagle (13 page)

“I make sense to myself,” Mrs. Morgan said.

Logically Veronica understood what her father was saying. But her mother was the one who made sense.

*   *   *

The December wind whipped through the trees so fiercely that Veronica wondered if there would be any leaves left on the branches by the time she and Cadbury got back from their afternoon walk. Although
walk
was a stretch. Lately Cadbury refused to move after his leash was on and Veronica had to carry him in and out of the elevator.

“He’s on strike, huh?” Charlie said. He had on his winter uniform, which included gold shoulder tassels. Veronica wondered if he liked it. It sure was fancy. She offered Cadbury a slow-baked sweet potato chip, hoping to lure him out of the elevator. Mary had invented that particular treat on one of the many days she’d forgotten she didn’t like dogs.

“Where is his other half?” Charlie said.

“Florida until April, remember? Fitzy always goes right before the holidays,” Veronica said.

“Right you are. Right you are. Maybe you need to get your fellow on the first flight. Looks like he misses his lady. Let me get the door for you, my dear,” Charlie said.

A burst of cool air rushed at her and Veronica wondered what it was like being Charlie. Having a job that made you stay in your coat all day long, inside. Veronica imagined she would be uncomfortable, but it never seemed to bother him.

Poor Cadbury shivered. She was a negligent owner. Fitzy had a coat, a sweater, and sometimes Mrs. Ferguson even put Fitzy in little shoes. Fitzy probably had a new coat just for Miami. A monogrammed windbreaker.

“I am ordering you a coat, Cadbury. Something very fashionable. Maybe with toggles.” The thought of him in a toggle coat made her happy. “Fitzy will be jealous when she comes back.”

The wind went right through her open hoodie, so she pulled both sides together in an attempt to keep it closed. Cadbury had chewed out the zipper. She should have worn a real coat, but the cold weather had come out of nowhere and she refused to dress for it.

The leaves blew high and in flurries and she felt like she was in a snow globe. Soon the air would smell like fireplaces and pine needles and toasted marshmallows, like real winter. Veronica didn’t mind winter. The only thing she couldn’t manage was how early it got dark. Night at four o’clock in the afternoon always felt like the beginning of the end.

“Why are you being so poky?” Veronica asked her dog. Cadbury replied by sighing loudly.

“Are you crabby about daylight saving time too? I don’t blame you but the slower you walk, the longer it will take us to get to the park and the less daylight we’ll have.”

Her argument did not convince Cadbury. He was practically nailed to the sidewalk.

Veronica reminded herself of what Mrs. Harrison said yesterday, that moods are formed in the mind. If that was true, she’d better form a new mood before she got mad at Cadbury. They weren’t really in a hurry. She’d already finished her homework. The leaves crunched under Veronica’s feet.

She thought of the chestnut poem from the first week at Randolf. Where did things begin and end? Leaves fell and became part of the ground they landed on. The ground nourished another tree, which produced nuts, which were then eaten by a bird or a squirrel who would poop and fertilize another tree and so on and so forth.

Nature, Veronica concluded for about the hundredth time since getting Cadbury, was helpful to all living things.
Maybe that’s why I used to rub my fingers up and down my green carpet so much. I just needed a little patch of Central Park
. She wrapped the soft lining of her sweatshirt gently around her finger as if she could protect it from all the years of rug burn.

“Look!” Veronica said. She picked up what was obviously the world’s best stick. But when she threw it, Cadbury lay down.

“Did you forget how it’s done? Here, let me show you. Watch.”

Cadbury tried to get comfortable in the leaves as Veronica fetched the stick herself. She returned with it, but Cadbury just looked at her.

“You’re not going to play with me?” she asked.

When it was clear that he wasn’t, Veronica played fetch by herself. She ran back and forth until she collapsed next to Cadbury.

For years Mary had told Veronica she would make another friend besides Cricket Cohen and Veronica hadn’t believed her. But that was because the friend Veronica had tried to imagine was human, not canine. She gently covered her new friend Cadbury with a blanket of leaves. She lay next to him, staring up at the sky with its last little bit of daylight.

Doctor-in-Training Esme Weiner

Ten minutes later, Veronica pushed through the front door of Paws and Claws carrying Cadbury, who was wrapped in her sweatshirt.

“Ohhhh, Cadbury! Come to Esme. I missed you,” Esme said, rushing out from behind the counter. She nearly mowed them down in her excitement. “Oh. You are so sweet. You are so sweet. You are so sweet.” She tickled Cadbury under his chin and massaged his glorious ears. Cadbury licked Esme all over.

“Hey, Veronica,” Ray muttered.

“Hi,” Veronica answered. It still surprised her that she and Ray were now on speaking terms. Being a verified dog owner gave her credibility. She was no longer just a desperate child begging her parents for permission to own a pet. She owned a pet so she had every right to be there. Even Simon couldn’t make her feel bad.

As usual, Ray wasn’t even pretending to work. His head rested on a giant bag of kibble. He stared dreamily into space while the radio played a song about booties and girls and good times. Veronica felt sorry for Ray. He must miss Esme now that she interned so much at the vet’s office. But he would never admit it.

“He’s all winded. And he’s shivering,” Esme said, her face burrowed in Cadbury’s fur. “Listen.”

“Uh-oh,” Ray said, “doctor-in-training Esme Weiner with another doggie diagnostic prediction of doom.” Ray lifted his head from the kibble. “Veronica, you are probably not feeding him some important organical plant supplement or exercising him enough or whatever. Whatever you’re doing, the doctor here has a better idea.”

“Ray, shut up.”

“You shut up.”

“Veronica, for real,” Esme said, ignoring Ray, “come here and listen.”

Veronica put her ear against Cadbury’s chest. She heard a kind of rattling.

“He shouldn’t be doing that,” Esme said. “His breathing seems weird. If you don’t mind, I want to call Dr. Harskirey and make an appointment.”

Ray got up off his kibble and put his arm around Veronica. “Leave the kid alone,” he said. “You’re gonna scare her and you’re not even a doctor, or a vet, or whatever.”

It was nice to have Ray looking out for her. But she let Esme call Dr. Harskirey because even though she wanted Esme to be wrong, she was afraid she was right.

Symmetry and Percentages

“Even his bones are beautiful,” Veronica said.

She stood beside her mother, gazing at Cadbury’s X-rays. His guitar-shaped rib cage was lit from behind. Veronica herself had only been subjected to X-rays at the dentist’s office. It was hard to believe that a little dog could have had more medical procedures than its owner. Cadbury had undergone an alarming number of tests in the last twenty-four hours.

Dr. Harskirey walked in and snapped on the overhead lights. She was taller than Veronica’s mother, with wild gray hair that seemed to be fighting a losing battle for control of the ponytail it was half contained by. She was direct, abrupt, and nervous making. Veronica didn’t like her.

“May I speak in front of the child?” Dr. Harskirey said. Veronica didn’t understand how Esme could admire her so much. She seemed so unpleasant.

“Her name is Veronica, Dr. Harskirey,” Mrs. Morgan said. “I believe I introduced you yesterday. And today, actually.”

“I’m sorry,” Dr. Harskirey said. She turned toward Veronica and extended her enormous hand. It was strong and the veins on top were ropy and prominent. She wasn’t smiling. “Veronica,” she said, “I’m going to be straight with you. The news is not good, and I need to know if you would be more comfortable having your mom explain Cadbury’s diagnosis at home later, or would you like to listen to me run through a long list of doctor talk?”

Veronica looked at her mother for guidance.

“Would you give us a moment?” Veronica’s mother said.

“Certainly,” Dr. Harskirey said.

“I’m sorry. I meant alone. Would you please give us a moment alone.” Mrs. Morgan stroked her daughter’s cheek.

Dr. Harskirey looked at her watch. “I have other patients. If I walk out there I can pretty much promise I won’t be back in anytime soon.”

Veronica sensed her mother losing her temper. Her own pulse was racing and she hoped her mother’s neck wasn’t going to explode from tension.

“I certainly don’t want to make trouble, Dr. Harskirey,” Mrs. Morgan said, “but I have to tell you that your bedside manner … well, it stinks!” Mrs. Morgan wiped a tear from her eye. “Could you try to put yourself in our shoes, in Veronica’s shoes, for a minute? I would be so grateful.”

Veronica loved her mother for defending her and Dr. Harskirey actually apologized. Mrs. Morgan pulled Veronica close, wrapping her arms around her the way she did if it was cold and they were outside for too long. “What would you rather, honey? Hear Dr. Harskirey explain the situation or have me do it at home?”

Her voice was respectful, the way Veronica preferred being spoken to ordinarily. But today she wanted a mother who knew more than she did. A mother who would take care of everything and make it better.

“Lovey, what do you think?”

Veronica stared at her mother like a mute.

Dr. Harskirey shifted her weight and looked at her watch.

“Honey? She has other patients. Let’s let her explain.”

Veronica nodded and leaned into her mother. She smelled so good.

“Okay. Here we go,” Dr. Harskirey said. She put more X-rays up on the board. “Cadbury’s tests confirm what I was worried about yesterday. His heart is enlarged. It’s putting pressure on the lungs. The entire cardiopulmonary system is backing up with fluid…”

Dr. Harskirey seemed to lose track of what she was saying. “I … I want to draw your attention to the large mass in the center.” She pointed her finger at a gray blotch surrounded by small white bones. “That is Cadbury’s heart. Do you see how big it is?”

Yesterday when Dr. Harskirey said she suspected that Cadbury’s heart was enlarged, Veronica took it as a compliment. The larger the heart, she reasoned, the kinder the creature. The size of a heart must be proportionate to how lovable the being containing that heart was. Obviously Cadbury had the biggest heart in the world. Veronica didn’t need years of medical training and a set of X-rays to know that.

“Cadbury, as I suspected, has an abnormally large heart,” Dr. Harskirey continued. Veronica picked Cadbury up off the floor. His breath was hot against her cheek.

“According to his echocardiogram and the X-rays—I don’t have a nice way to say this, I wish I did. And I don’t have a script that is more appropriate for certain age groups.” Dr. Harskirey took Cadbury from Veronica and put him on the aluminum table. His nails made an upsetting sound as they skittered across it. It seemed wrong for this rude woman to be touching Cadbury. But she was surprisingly gentle with him. He licked Dr. Harskirey’s nose. She smiled and scratched behind his ears. “Basically, his heart is too large to do the job it is supposed to do.”

“How can a heart be too big?” Veronica asked.

“That is the problem,” Dr. Harskirey said. “It can’t. His body is designed to contain a much smaller heart. And his heart is designed to be much smaller. It’s working too hard to pump all the blood his body needs. That’s why he is having trouble breathing. That’s why he coughs. That’s why he is so tired. You’ve probably noticed he’s not playful.” Cadbury’s heart glowed on the light box behind Dr. Harskirey. “Eventually all his organs will suffer. I wish there was a nicer way. I really do,” Dr. Harskirey said, stroking Cadbury’s chin.

Cadbury didn’t seem to mind Dr. Harskirey or what she was saying. Veronica wished she felt the same way.

“Some dogs are diagnosed early and some dogs, like Cadbury, show no signs until their hearts have built up so much fluid the damage is irreversible. You didn’t do anything wrong. It is a hereditary condition most of the time.”

“Veronica,” her mother said quietly, “do you understand?”

“Yes,” Veronica answered. “Cadbury’s heart is too big and it makes him tired.”

Veronica had a math test first thing in the morning. She should be at home studying. It was about symmetry, which was easy, but there was a section on percentages, which was hard.

“What is the treatment?” her mother said.

“In Cadbury’s case all we can do is keep him comfortable.”

“That’s it?” Veronica felt her mother’s arms tighten around her. She thought she might choke.

“I’m afraid so,” Dr. Harskirey said. “He is quite far gone, and it is just going to get worse.”

“What do you mean?” Veronica asked. “He is just going to get more tired?”

“Yes. And then his heart will give out. Or if you feel he is too uncomfortable you may decide to euthanize him.”

“Honey, look at me,” Mrs. Morgan said, turning Veronica to face her. “Do you understand what the doctor is saying?”

“Yes,” Veronica said. She was annoyed. “Yes, I do. Cadbury’s heart is too big and he will be tired and not as playful for the rest of his life.”

Cadbury was always going to die. She was going to die. Her mother and father were going to die. It was all part of the cycle of life, the seasons of the year like they talked about at Randolf. The leaves fall off the trees, the ground freezes, the earth hibernates waiting to be reborn in spring and it all culminates in the bounty of summer. Blah blah blah.

Mrs. Morgan was crying. Her poor mother always overreacted. All those years spent forcing herself to be sympathetic, even when nothing was going on. If only she made a big deal out of stuff that actually mattered. Like getting school uniforms tailored properly and cooking for her family.