The Good, the Bad & the Beagle (15 page)

“Stop it!” Veronica said. The aggression in her voice surprised everyone. Including herself. But how dare they. All she had done for the last two weeks was try to protect Cadbury by thinking positive thoughts and here, in front of him, her parents were blatantly undermining her efforts.

“You’re upset, honey. And you should be. This is so upsetting. It is so upsetting,” her mother said. She got up from the table and came around to Veronica’s chair.

“It really is so upsetting,” her father said, and it wasn’t clear if he was speaking to himself or to Veronica.

They didn’t get it. She was Cadbury’s antenna. She was responsible for bringing him home. He was tuned in to one station only and that station played the show called
Everything Is Fine and No
t
hing Has Changed
. Her parents were messing up the signal.

*   *   *

The next day, Melody handed in the Monet project and barely looked at Veronica. She was proud of Melody for that. Melody had written an essay and Veronica bet it would be very good. So now the job of exposing Veronica for the negligent student and bad school partner she was belonged to Ms. Padgett. Veronica watched the clock, waiting for the other shoe to drop. She wanted someone to get mad at her. When would Ms. Padgett announce she was a bad girl? There would be a heavy price to pay for her behavior.

It would hurt. She was ready.

But class was dismissed.

Devotion

Veronica quickly adjusted her expectations. She would get in trouble when the projects were handed back on Monday. It made perfect sense. Monday morning, she would go down like the
Titanic
while Melody was held up as an example of everything good. Veronica understood that getting kicked out of Randolf was a very real possibility. She should be kicked out. She had behaved like a scoundrel.

That weekend, Mr. and Mrs. Morgan had an out-of-town wedding so Mary stayed over. Veronica taught Mary how to bathe Cadbury. They cleared out the tub, removing the razors and combs and shampoo and conditioner so Cadbury could take a bath. Just as Esme would, Veronica adjusted and readjusted the temperature many times until it was perfect. She and Mary lifted him into the water and Veronica rubbed his body with rosemary oil to stimulate his circulation. She rinsed him carefully and rubbed him gently with lavender oil to soothe him. She dried him with her own towel.

“Here, my baby,” Mary said, and handed Veronica a cup of hot chocolate. “You are taking such good care of your friend.”

“Are you crying, Mary?”

“No. My baby, I am not crying,” Mary said, wiping her face. “Something is in my eye. Should I be crying?”

“No. Because everything’s going to be all right,” Veronica said.

“That is right. Everything will be how it is meant to be,” Mary said. She kissed Veronica before going back to the kitchen. But she only kissed her one time.

*   *   *

When Ms. Padgett handed back the projects a few days later, Veronica was in a panic.

“I had such a good time this week with your projects! Great work. And such a diverse display. I read poems and looked at pictures and I even heard a song,” Ms. Padgett said. Auden Georges was on the edge of her chair. She’d made a watercolor and was really pleased with herself. “You should all be very proud,” Ms. Padgett said as she glided around the room handing back the projects.

Veronica’s finger itched like crazy. She rubbed it against her uniform. She had nothing to be proud of. Becky Shickler got her paper back and hugged Darcy. Ms. Padgett came to Veronica’s table. Sylvie had written what looked like a dissertation. It was long and Ms. Padgett said, “Sylvie, this was so thought provoking. I loved how you wrote about Monet painting his wife as she was dying.” She put Sylvie’s pages on the table. “Athena, wonderful work. You too, Sarah-Lisa.” Ms. Padgett handed back their work. “Veronica,” Ms. Padgett said and Veronica swallowed hard. “You and Melody worked so well together. Lovely.” She placed a paper in front of Veronica with the names Melody Jenkins and Veronica Morgan printed across the top and a big red
A
in Ms. Padgett’s loopy handwriting.

“You look surprised,” Ms. Padgett said. “You shouldn’t be. Hard work is rewarded in my class.”

Veronica smiled weakly. Why had Melody let her get away with this? To torture her? Then it occurred to her. It was a sign. Instead of being punished for being mean to Melody, she was being rewarded for her devotion to Cadbury. Cadbury was the prize.

Closed Windows

When Veronica got home from school she was surprised to discover her parents.

“Why aren’t you at work?”

“Your father and I have something difficult to discuss with you,” Mrs. Morgan said. Cadbury lay limp at her feet.

“But what about your patients? Shouldn’t you go back?”

“Veronica,” her father said, “Mary told us Cadbury hasn’t eaten for days.”

“He isn’t hungry. He is resting.”

Mr. and Mrs. Morgan looked at each other as though they had this all planned out.

“Honey, I know it’s hard. But it is time to start making arrangements,” her mother said.

For three weeks Veronica had worked day and night maintaining a positive attitude. She always gave him his medicine at the right time. She fed him with a spoon when he was having trouble eating. She cleaned out his water bowl two or three times a day. She researched about rosemary and lavender oils. She bathed him so carefully. She had tried as hard as a person could try to protect him. But she had obviously failed. And now her parents were asking her to abandon hope. She looked into Cadbury’s eyes but he didn’t see her.

Darkness

The next day Veronica couldn’t bear the idea of going to school. She stayed in bed with Cadbury until it was time to go to Dr. Harskirey’s. At three thirty the sky was pitch-black as if all the daylight had been stolen from the heavens. It was the sign Veronica had been waiting for. Everything was not fine even though she had stayed the course, even though she had done her part, even though she had been good.

“Honey, he’s too heavy. Let me carry him for you,” her mother said when they got out of the taxi.

Not eating had made Cadbury both lighter and heavier than Veronica expected.

“Please, honey,” her mother begged, “let me help you.”

“No,” Veronica said.

Cadbury sat on Veronica’s lap while Esme helped her mother with the paperwork. Veronica wouldn’t let herself cry because more than anything, she didn’t want Cadbury to be afraid. This was the last thing she could give him. She would not let him die in fear and without honor. She kissed him gently everywhere on his body.

“I love you. I love you. I love you. You are the best dog in the world,” Veronica told him over and over.

“Check cremation,” Esme told Mrs. Morgan. “It is very important that Veronica keeps the ashes.”

Veronica’s mother did as instructed and brought Veronica a catalog of urns to look at. She stroked her daughter’s hair much the way Veronica was stroking Cadbury.

“Honey, will you pick something for Cadbury?” she said softly.

Veronica was queasy like her first day of pre-K when she didn’t understand how to do anything, even where to put her coat, until the teacher told her. She followed her mother’s instructions now as she had followed the teacher’s then. She chose a wooden box.

When the forms were finished, Esme led them to a special procedural room in the basement. It was a much warmer room than where Cadbury had been examined and there were three thick blankets draping the metal table. Veronica placed Cadbury gently in the middle of them. She lifted his ear and told him how much she loved him. She repeated it over and over while Esme held him and Dr. Harskirey shaved a little patch of fur on his leg. Veronica’s mother held her daughter while Dr. Harskirey administered the injection. It took seven minutes.

They went to the vet with Cadbury and they left the vet without Cadbury. There was nothing to say. Veronica held on to her mother as though she were blind.

“I’ve got you,” her mother said. She steered her daughter through the early evening streets. Veronica couldn’t see beyond the giant drops of rain that were suddenly falling everywhere. She leaned into her mother and closed her eyes. She heard the clicking of her mother’s purse opening and closing and then she felt a soft Kleenex under her eyes and dabbing at her cheeks. That was when she realized it wasn’t rain that was making it hard to see. Her tears were the problem.

Part 4

A Very Long Weekend

Home was where Cadbury used to be but Cadbury was gone. Even though his ball was on the floor near Veronica’s bed. Even though his lavender and rosemary oils were still on the side of the tub. Even though his leash was by the front door. Even though his toys were in a pile by the couch and his plaid bed was in the den next to the Scrabble set. Even though he was everywhere, he was no more.

Her mother suggested a nice bath. Veronica didn’t have any better ideas so she stood in the bathroom hoping the sound of the roaring taps filling the tub would drown out her thoughts. She was handed yet another cup of tea, just the way she liked: strong and sweet and milky. Veronica drank it but she let the bath get cold. She couldn’t be bothered to get undressed. She hadn’t let herself cry in the vet’s office. She had cried on the street but didn’t feel it. She wanted to cry now, but nothing came out. She left the bathroom forgetting to drain the bathwater.

Mr. and Mrs. Morgan were lying together on the couch, her mother’s head resting on her father’s chest. When they heard Veronica come in they sat up and her mother dabbed her eyes. This was Veronica’s loss and it was confusing to see them so upset.

“Should we build a shrine, would that be helpful? You could keep adding his things as we find them,” her father offered.

“Would you like to keep a grief journal?” her mother suggested.

“You don’t have to go to school tomorrow. We made you an appointment with Dr. Snope. Grief is something we all need help with. Hard to process on your own,” her father said.

Veronica loved her parents more than any other people in the world, which was why she couldn’t tell them that she wished she had never been born, that they had never gotten her a dog. She couldn’t tell them that the sight of them sitting on the couch, drinking their wine, made her sick. She wished she could tell them to be quiet. For the love of God, just be quiet.

The next day she saw Dr. Snope. But the only part of the visit that stuck in her head was the way central casting seemed to have populated the streets of New York City with dogs. Little dogs, big dogs, dogs that had long ears like Cadbury, dogs circling trees, dogs loping alongside their owners, noses to the ground sniffing, dogs pulling their owners, owners yanking on leashes trying to pull their dogs, dogs looking up with soulful eyes at their owners. Dogs. Wonderful and loving and loyal. Man’s best friend. Dogs were everywhere.

And there was Cadbury! He jumped and licked her legs and her hands. Veronica threw out her arms and pulled him toward her. He smelled like corn chips and toast and his tongue was warm and almost dry as he licked her face. But it wasn’t Cadbury. It was just another beagle. A beagle just like Cadbury except that he was alive.

Her Cat Died

Cadbury died in the middle of January, five and a half weeks after he was diagnosed by Dr. Harskirey. Between her parents’ concern and Dr. Snope’s questioning, Veronica might as well have been placed under a microscope for observation. For a girl who liked to be invisible under ordinary circumstances, being scrutinized like this, under extraordinary circumstances, was torture.

Mary tried to be casual about her furtive attention paying, but even she was getting on Veronica’s nerves. Everyone wanted Veronica to be okay because they loved her and couldn’t bear to see her suffer. It was a vicious cycle. She was not okay, they wanted her to be, she felt worse for making them worry, and so it went.

Hopefully Randolf would distract her. She climbed the marble staircase Tuesday morning as Sarah-Lisa Carver, Athena Mindendorfer, Darcy Brown, Auden Georges, and everyone’s new best friend, Melody Jenkins, looked over the railing. Veronica felt like a laboratory animal.

“Look. There’s Veronica,” she heard Melody say.

“Why are we staring at her?” Darcy asked.

“Her cat died,” Auden Georges said.

“She didn’t have a cat,” Athena said.

Ms. Padgett came out of the classroom and ushered the girls inside. When Veronica reached the top of the stairs, Ms. Padgett hugged her. It was all Veronica could imagine wanting. But Ms. Padgett’s embrace made grief burn behind her eyelids. Veronica felt naked and out of control.

She entered the classroom, keeping her head down. When she sat, Ms. Padgett led the room in Morning Verse.

I look upon the universe so tall,

The sun warms my heart and the moon guides my soul.

The stars above sparkle and the earth below informs my feet.

The beast and the pebble, the rain and the dawn,

Side by side.

Harmony to all things, great and small.

The sound of Morning Verse was like the voice of an old friend.

But the rest of the day wouldn’t be so easy. Without a script, Veronica didn’t know if she’d be able to speak or what she would say.

When Ms. Padgett was going over homework, Veronica raised her hand to ask permission to go to the bathroom.

She hid in the very last stall and cried. She took time out of math, poetry, and French to cry in there too. She even cried during the times she was in the bathroom because she had to go to the bathroom. She cried silently and she cried noisily. Sometimes she cried and instead of feeling sad, she felt wonder about the human body, her body in particular. How could it produce so many tears? She cried because her body knew no other way.
Surely I have no more tears left,
she thought over and over. But she did.