Page 12 of Love Unforgettable
What the hell?
I interrupt Mavis’ continued tirade regarding Trevor. “Bubbe, can I call you back? I have a problem with the grapes.”
“Oh, the grapes, always the grapes with you. Just like mygelibteh.Alev ha-sholem.”
“May he rest in peace,” I repeat. “I know, I’m sorry. It’s just, I think there’s something wrong with them. I’ll pick you up at six for dinner. Okay,bubbe?”
“Yes, yes.Danke, bubala. I see you then.”
I continue my inspection of the vines, only to realize it’s more than just one, but definitely sporadic. The stems have clearly been chewed on and some clusters have been halved, but in a total haphazard manner.
I’d say it’s one of the animals on my farm, but the only logical guess out of my horde would be my cow or one of the goats. Except that they are penned so far from this area, it wouldn’t make sense. Plus, now that I pay closer attention to the surrounding area, I see horse shoe tracks in places.
I don’t have a horse.
I hear the faint sound of a whinny. I look around. Sasha sniffs the ground under the vines in a maniacal manner that only dogs seem to do. She and I see the horse at almost exactly the same time and Sasha takes off running. I start running after her, because Siberian Huskies and horses don’t always mix well.
“Sasha! Stop!” I clap my hands to get her attention, but she is determined to make it to the horse. It takes her a while since she’s older than most of my others and not as agile as she used to be. All seven of my rescue dogs have something wrong with them, usually physical, some reason why they weren’t adopted. The local shelter knows that if they can’t place a husky in a timely manner, I will take it. Which is the only reason why I have seven.
Sasha’s issue was that she was losing large patches of hair due to a food allergy, which made her not very pretty to look at. The previous owners didn’t want to deal with it, so they surrendered her. I figured out the allergy, her hair came back, and she’s been great ever since. She was my first rescue and has been with me the longest, just over eight years now.
Sasha starts to slow and is winded I’m sure, but clearly still on a mission. She whines and howls, trying to get the horse’s attention.
The same horse who clearly has busted my trellising and is currently eating my fucking grapes.
“Hey!” I wave my arms in the direction of the horse, running toward it. The horse turns toward us and shifts uncomfortably, pawing at the ground with its front hooves. Sasha catches up with it and begins running under the belly, doing figure-eight movements around the front and back legs. Howling and barking, whinnying and stomping.
This can only end badly.
I catch up with them and try at first to get Sasha to come. But she’s not listening to me. At all. The horse is agitated and spooked, Sasha is pissed and tired.
“Okay, okay, easy. Let’s just stay calm.” I hold my hands up to the horse, trying to be as non-threatening as possible as I inch my way forward looking for something to grab. There’s no harness or reins and I can’t quite reach the mane. Then it’s like everything happens at once. The horse whinnies. Sasha howls. The horse rears and all I see are hooves, paws, and dust. Sasha clears the underside of the horse, moving to the front just as it comes down. Landing on Sasha. She collapses with a yelp.
“Sasha!” I pick up a piece of broken trellis and throw it at the horse, yelling and waving my arms. The horse turns and runs away. I kneel and try to inspect Sasha. She’s breathing, but it’s shallow.
I don’t know what to do.
Do I move her?
I can’t carry her all the way back to the house.
I can’t leave her here alone.
Think, Lexie. Think.
Call the vet. Doc Richardson will know what to do.
Phone, where’s my phone?
I pull out my phone and call Doc Richardson’s office and explain what happened. The receptionist assures me he’ll be on his way soon.
Then, I call my vineyard manager, Daniel, and let him know Doc will be here soon and could he bring him out on the ATV. Doc does a lot outside of his office as well as in; obviously for livestock he travels to the farm, so he has a mobile vet clinic that he drives to sites. I pet Sasha and whisper to her what a good dog she is, over and over, petting her head. She licks my hand softly. I really hope that means she’s going to be okay.
* * *
After what seems like hours, but I know is closer to forty minutes, I hear the ATV approach. I don’t move, because I don’t want Sasha to move. I told Daniel where in the vineyard I was, and all our rows are numbered and sectioned, so I’m not hard to find. Only instead of Doc Richardson on the ATV trailer, it’s Trevor.
Fuck. How did I forget about him already?
