Page 49 of Hello Stranger

Of course, Dr. Addison didn’t wear glasses.

But I’m sure he wouldn’t let that hold him back.

Anyway, he didn’t go off to be doctorly. He lingered there. Watching Peanut devour that entire Styrofoam box of pad Thai, slurp by slurp, like a champion.

“He really does like pad Thai.”

“I’m telling you. He’s a very worldly dog. Gastronomically.”

“I believe you.”

I wanted to think I could take the chowing-down as encouragement that Peanut must be doing better. But I couldn’t discount the appetite stimulant.

“This is a good sign, right?” I asked as Peanut licked the empty container.

“It’s not a bad sign,” Dr. Addison said.

“I’m so glad he’s doing better.”

A little pause and then Dr. Addison said, “Areyoudoing better?”

I looked up. Bless that man—he’d just given me the perfect opportunity to say it: “I’m great,” I said, with all the convincing, perky, don’t-even-know-why-you’re-asking energy I could muster. Mentally I added:I am not falling apart. I am not standing slack-jawed and helpless at the sight of my life collapsing like a sheet of the polar ice caps. I am absolutely, undeniably, categorically okay.

“Good,” Dr. Addison said, seeming unconvinced. Then he added, “Great.”

Fine. All right. Maybe my two-word statement wouldn’t be enough. “We’re just… very close,” I added then. I mean, even perfectly fine people could get weepy if their dogs were on the brink of death! That wasn’t evidence of emotional pathology, was it?

“You and Peanut?” Dr. Addison asked.

I nodded. “Practically litter mates. My mom gave him to me when I was a kid.” Were you still a kid at fourteen? Close enough.

Dr. Addison nodded. “They really curl up in your heart, don’t they?”

That seemed like a very true way of putting it.

“Do you have any pets?” I asked then.

Dr. Addison shifted. “I’m between pets at the moment.”

“I guess you see enough animals at work.”

“That’s one way to spin it.”

There was a story there, for sure.

But it was getting late. “I’m sure you need to get home,” I said.

He thought about it. “I’m off to check on another patient after this, anyway. A Great Dane. She’s too sick to stay overnight here unsupervised, so she’s at a twenty-four-hour clinic.”

“I should let you get to that,” I said, giving Peanut one more squeeze.

Dr. Addison watched me clean up and then put my nose right in front of Peanut’s for one last nourishing drink of the sight of his littlefuzzy face. “You be good for these guys, got it?” I said to Peanut. “If they tell you to get well, you get well.”

Peanut licked me on the cheek in reply with his flappy pink tongue.

I put him back in the kennel, tucked him in with his squeaky squirrel, fought back any and all not-okay feelings, and latched the latch. I was fine. I was great. I was not a person who could be toppled by a run-of-the-mill goodbye.

When I turned around, Dr. Addison was waiting to walk me back to the front.

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