Page 15 of My Inherited House Might be Haunted

Then she closed it and said, “Let’s start with dog first. Hi, Myst. Hi, you good dog?”

Myst, as far as I could tell, didn’t know what “stranger” meant and went right up to her to get love and scratches. Which she obliged. She looked him over but glanced at me. “He’s wet?”

“Myst was absolutely filthy when I met him. I gave him a bath but didn’t have a way of drying him.”

“Ah. He just felt damp, so I wondered. Thank you for washing him. Don’t need more work here.”

“I didn’t want more work for me, either.”

She felt him over, looked in his ears, put her scope against his ribs, and listened for a moment. Then frowned as she leaned back. “He is not in great condition. Bony, malnourished, dehydrated. I’m glad you found him when you did. Let’s start with IV. I’ll give him first round of basic shots today too. Good news is, he does not have ear infections or any signs of illness.”

“I’ll take that good news. What should I do to get him back up to weight?”

“Three small meals a day. Help his body adjust to real food again. I’ll send you home with prescription food.”

I was very grateful for that. “Please and thank you.”

She looked Myst over again, this time with a certain weighing of the eyes. Then looked at his teeth again. “Hmm, I wonder if he was tossed out because he got so big? But he’s not done growing.”

I beg your fucking pardon? “Uh, he’s not full grown?”

“No, no, he’s not even full year old yet. See how feet are too big for body? He’s growing into feet still.”

“Holy Mother.” I looked Myst over and had to wonder. “Just how big is he going to get?”

“He’s Shiloh shepherd, from the look of him. Males generally make it to about one hundred and fifty pounds. Here, let me take leash. I want to weigh him on scale outside.”

“Sure.” I handed over the leash obediently.

Then sat there, head kind of spinning. I’d had dogs before in my life, always the family dog, but they were kind of more on the portable scale. Like, fifty pounds or so. A hundred and fifty pounds of dog was a lot to love. I’d read stories before where people were assured by a breeder that a dog would only get such-and-such size, and then when they realized the dog would be much bigger, abandoned it. I didn’t blame Myst for that. It wasn’t like he was in control of his genetics. I did blame the stupid humans, though.

Well. The house I’d just inherited sat on four lots, so I had a little under an acre that was all fenced in. Plenty of room for Myst to run around and play. Maybe I should invest in a doggy door? If he was a puppy still, I didn’t want accidents.

She came back in, the frown deeper now. “He’s only sixty pounds. Way too light.”

“Damn. I thought he was heavier than that. I guess the fur deceived me.”

“Feed him,” she ordered me. “Three meals a day, plus snacks.”

“You got it.”

The nurse tech came in with a scanner. I held my breath as the scanner was waved all over his head, legs, and neck but there was no beep. Phew. He was my dog now.

Dr. Gardener pulled a treat from her front pocket and gave it to him. “You good boy, Myst. Very good boy. Amanda, take him back for IV and first round of puppy shots. Test for heartworms. Clip his nails, too.”

“Sure.” Amanda the vet tech took the leash and said in a happy voice, “Come on, puppy, come with me. That’s right, come with me.”

Myst hesitated at the door, looking back at me. I urged him on. “Go on, boy. You’ll be back to me in a few minutes.”

Again, I swear the dog understood me as he huffed but went.

“All right, now kitty.” With practiced motions, Dr. Gardener unlatched the top of the carrier and lifted Lucy out.

Lucy did not like this. Lucy hissed at her.

“Oooh, spicy kitty.”

Feeling like I should help, I stood as well and laid a gentle hand on Lucy. “Don’t live up to your name, please. She needs to check you out.”

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