Page 117 of Worst in Show

After the vet does a thorough examination, I brace for the verdict.

“It’s a pretty nasty infection,” she says. “We’ll administer an antibiotic shot today and send you with an oral round that she needs to finish. She should start improving after the weekend. You’ll also have to clean and rebandage the foot regularly until it’s healed. The tech will show you how.”

“But you think she’ll be okay?”

“Yes. I’m glad you brought her in today.” She scratches Cholula’s ear and pauses to look at her pupils. “Tell you what—bring her back in tomorrow so we can make sure she doesn’t get worse. That will let us change the bandage, too.”

I nod, resisting the urge to hug this stranger for her kindness. “Thank you.”

My phone buzzes again, and I pull it out of my pocket. It’s Harvey. Two missed calls. I frown.

“We’re going to get her all cleaned up if you want to take that,” the vet says. “We’ll come get you when she’s ready.”

I nod a thanks and head outside. It rings only once before Harvey picks up.

“How’s she doing?” he asks. He must love the dog even more than I thought. I relay what the vet told me, and he sighs in relief. “When do you think you’ll be back?”

“They’re bandaging her up now. Thirty to forty minutes? Why?”

“Well”—Harvey pauses—“there’s a bit of a situation.”

Panic rises inside me. He’d better not have fallen again. He doesn’t sound like he’s in pain. “Are you okay?”

“Sure, sure.” Another pause. “Except, I’m stuck in the stairlift.”

“You’re what?”

“It seems like… well… the power went out.”

“And you’re…”

“In the lift. I probably could make my way down. There’s about six steps left, but—”

“No, don’t risk it.” Fucking hell, this morning. “I’ll call Micki. She might be at work by now. If not, I’ll be home as soon as I can.” A nauseating tide of shame builds within me as I look at the clock, at the clinic, at my car. I never paid the overdue bill at the end of the month. Amid everything else, it slipped my mind. Now Harvey, too, will know just how much of a screwup I am.

It’s at that moment that the greater implication of the situation slaps me across the face with a resounding whack!

Cholula won’t be able to walk for some time.

We can’t do the show.

And with no way of winning the money, everything is lost.

My feet are leaden as I walk up the stairs carrying Cholula. The store is dark, the CLOSED sign up on the front door. Thanks to Micki coming to the rescue, Harvey has been liberated from the lift and is doing a crossword puzzle in the overcast daylight coming through the window.

“How is she?” he asks, getting out of his chair.

“Lethargic. They gave her fluids and antibiotics. She should be fine.” That’s what matters most, I tell myself. Winning the show was always a long shot anyway.

I place her on the bed, and Harvey strokes her between the ears. “My poor girl.”

“I’m so sorry.” Releasing the words does little for my inner peace, but what else is there to say? “I messed up. You thought you could trust me, but—” My voice cracks.

“But you said so yourself—she’ll recover.”

I blink at him. “Not Cho. The store. I’m mortified. I’ve been so focused on training and… and other… I didn’t stay on top of things.” A sob rolls up my chest.

“Hey, now.” Harvey shuffles over to me and puts an arm around my shoulder. “I’ve made some calls. Your mother has agreed to wire enough to cover immediate bills, and the power company will flip their magic switch as soon as payment is posted. This is not the end of the world. You think this is the first time we’ve been behind on bills? One time, Martha had to pawn her mother’s bracelet until we were back in the black. Oof, did I hear about that for a good long while afterward.” His crow’s feet deepen with a lopsided smile. “Come on, let’s have some tea. We’ll get through this, kiddo. I can feel it in my bones.”

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