Page 88 of Claimed by my Bestie's Dad

I see flashes of teeth and growls, and then it’s like the picture focuses in my mind, and I can see exactly what’s happening. My sweet, gentle Samson is pinned beneath Chico. He’s growled at Samson before, but this is no growl. His teeth are buried in Samson’s neck.

Samson yelps as he wiggles and tries to get free.

I stop thinking then. I just act.

I grab a thick book from a nearby table.

“Stop it! No! Get off him!” I scream.

I beat at Chico’s back with the book, scared that he’ll turn and come at me but not sure what else I can do. If I tryto pull him off without him opening his jaw, he could do serious damage.

Samson’s yelps increase in volume, and tears start to stream down my cheeks as I bring the book down especially hard on Chico’s back.

Chico turns around and sees me standing over him with the book raised. He instantly tucks his tail between his legs. I chase him back to his kennel, where I shut him inside. Then, I drop the book on my way back to Samson.

Samson is crumpled on the floor, panting hard, blood on his neck. And it’s not just a little either. He’s trying to turn to get at the wound, but he can’t. His yelps have changed to pitiful whines.

“Oh my God, Samson.” I drop to my knees beside him. My hands flutter uselessly over his body, not knowing where to touch. He’s obviously hurt on his neck. Is he hurt somewhere else, too? I need to know exactly what’s going on.

He’s shaking, his eyes wide and glazed with fear. The sight of blood seeping from a gash in his neck sends a wave of dizziness washing over me. I need to stop the flow of blood. He might need stitches. This doesn’t look like just a little scrape.

“Please, baby. It’s okay, it’s okay.” I caress Samson’s back, but he doesn’t even react to my touch. He’s sniffing himself and checking himself all over. I see a cut on his back paw then, and Samson becomes obsessed with it. He starts licking it. I gently pull him back from it.

“Don’t do that. You don’t want to make it worse. Hold on. Let me see. Oh, that one’s not so bad. Just a little. Buddy, it’s your neck. Okay, lay down. Lay down.”

I finally get Samson’s head in my lap. His tail thumps weakly against the floor as I try to push his fur aside so I can see the real damage.

As soon as I see where the skin is ripped away, I stop trying to look. I almost throw up right there.

I’m barely holding it together. My vision is blurring, my heart is hammering, and I feel like I’m going to break apart if I don’t do something. I need to get him help, but my brain is short-circuiting.

Who do I call? The vet? I’ve never dealt with something like this before. What if I can’t afford it?

But I can’t just not get Samson the help he needs. I mean…that would be like subjecting him to a painful death from some sort of infection.

I don’t have a lot of savings right now—everything I have has been going into trying to make the mortgage. But I can’t let that stop me. I can’t let Samson suffer.

My hands are shaking as I pull out my phone, and before I even think it through, I’m dialing the only person who comes to mind.

“Ethan, please—please pick up,” I whisper, holding the phone to my ear as I struggle to keep my voice steady. I’m about to hang up and try calling the vet when his deep voice finally comes through.

“Madison? What’s up?”

“It’s… Something… One of the dogs…”

It’s like Ethan understands the situation just from those few words. “What’s wrong? Do you need me over at your house?”

I’m finally able to put my words together. “It’s Samson. One of the dogs attacked him, and he’s—he’s bleeding, Ethan. I don’t know what to do. I… It looks serious.”

“Are you at your house right now?”

“Yes, I… It happened here while I was in the other room. Maybe if I had been in here, then Chico wouldn’t have?—”

“I’m on my way home. I’ll be at your house in two minutes. Don’t move.”

“I’m—I need to get him to the vet. It looks serious. I don’t think…”

“I’m on my way. Just hang tight, okay? Don’t try to move him until I get there. We’ll figure it out in a couple of minutes.”

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