Page 14 of There Once was a Dancer
“I mean she hasn’t been eatin’ right, and she’s had some problems with her belly…you know, a tummy ache.”
“Oh. What did the doctor say?”
“He told me that everything looks normal. He says he’s not sure but he thinks maybe the food I give her makes her sick. He suggested a different one.”
When Cachi said nothing, I glanced over at him. His brow was furrowed as if he was trying hard to parse what I’d said. “What you mean, he suggest different food? What kind of food you give her?”
I was about a block from the vet hospital, so I pulled into the right lane, preparing to turn into the lot. “I give her food with mostly meat. A lot of food is made with grain and that’s not good for her.”
“I think grain is healthy.”
I thinned my lips, trying not to smile. I wanted to say grain—when used as fillers in cheap dog food—was the farthest thing from healthy for man’s best friend, but I bit my tongue. “Well, some people can’t eat grain, even little people.” I signaled as the driveway came into sight and pulled into a space to park. I glanced over at Cachi and he was looking all over the place, trying to figure out just what kind of hospital this was. The single-story building in a strip mall on Sunset wasn’t exactly Cedars-Sinai or the Henry Mayo Clinic. I realized exactly whenhe figured out what was going on when he looked up at a large sign rotating on a pole. The West Side Animal Emergency Hospital sign showed a smiling pooch with his tongue hanging out right beside the lettering. Cachi turned to me with a big grin on his face.
“This is doggie hospital.”
I smiled back, reaching up to cup his smooth cheek. “Yep. That’s because my girl, Lola, is the most perfect little doggie you ever did see.”
“You made fun of me.”
He didn’t look angry. In fact, his eyes were dancing with mirth. I watched them for a few seconds, admiring the beauty in the brown depths before dropping my gaze to his gorgeous full lips, noticing how he was trying desperately not to smile. “I didn’t make fun of you. I just didn’t tell you the whole truth, sugar.”
He hauled off and hit me on the bicep with a balled fist. “Shit head!”
“Oww!” I said, laughing as I rubbed my arm. “I’m sorry but there’s no excuse for usin’ physical violence on my person.”
He turned to look out the windshield, crossed his arms over his chest, and stuck out his lower lip. “I no understand this English.”
I laughed harder. “You understand more English than you let on, and I’m pretty sure your terrible grammar is a put on.”
He blinked. “A put…on?”
I pointed at him. “That’s exactly what I’m talkin’ about.” I canted my head toward the door. “Come on, brat. I can’t wait for you to meet my girl.”
Chapter Four
CACHI
I sat in the waiting room of the very busy veterinary hospital waiting for Rex a few minutes later. I’d been surprised by how the receptionist had greeted him, grinning widely the moment we walked through the door. He hadn’t even gotten to the counter, before she’d come around it and thrown her arms around him. He’d had to bend to hug her back since she was a lot shorter than him. I still hadn’t asked him how tall he actually was, but it was rare for me to see a man of his height.
I still blushed every time I remembered how he’d had to bend down to scoop me into his arms to protect me. He was a very affectionate man, not shy about reaching out to me. I found it very enchanting and I had to admit I was surprised by that. I hadn’t come into contact with a lot of federales and had rarely seen them smile as much as Rex did. Then again, I got most of my information about cops from TV shows where they were usually shown as unsmiling, serious types of people.
Rex had patted the receptionist on the back, calling her Pricilla. Then greeted several of the other vet technicians and doctors by name as they picked up charts, and ushered patients and their owners inside to be seen. Everyone knew him very well, which must mean Rex’s poor Lola was a very sick, little dog.
He’d said she had a tummy ache, but I knew from experience with my tia’s cat, Trudy, that pet owners often didn’t realize how sick their animals really were. When Trudy passed away from kidney disease last year, Tia Carlotta was devastated. She hadn’t known how sick her fur baby really was until things got bad.
Back home in San Juan, I’d grown up loving animals. When I was little, I’d told Mamá that I was going to be a veterinarian someday, not realizing how much it cost to go to vet college to become a doctor. My love for animals had only grown after the hurricane when so many animals had been abandoned, or separated from their families when so many homes were destroyed or caught up in the flooding afterward. I’d spent the better part of six months volunteering with pet rescue groups and had a whole new appreciation of what it meant to be an animal’s best friend.
When we’d come to the States, I’d had to find work right away so we wouldn’t be a burden on our relatives, permanently putting aside my dream of college and getting the medical degree I’d wanted so badly.
When the door to the exam rooms opened half an hour after Rex had gone in, I was shocked to see him walking out with a tiny poodle cradled in one arm, carrying a small, silver object in the other. The little dog was pure white, fluffy as hell, and had puffy, pink, satin bows attached to the fur over each ear. She sat in her daddy’s arms looking up at him with an affection that was impossible to miss.
I stood up as Rex came toward me wearing a huge smile on his full lips. His face showed the happiness he was feeling as he came over. He stopped in front of me and only then did I notice the dog was missing her two back legs. That, and the small, silver wheelchair in his other hand, were the shock of my life. I hadn’t been expecting that at all.
“Cachi…this is my Lola,” he said into the top of the little dog’s head. “Lola, this is my new friend, Cachi.” The dog immediately looked up at me with shiny, black eyes and let out a little yip, wiggling like crazy in his arms. Her whole body shook withhappiness as she pawed his forearm with her two remaining feet and leaned her little black nose toward me.
“¡Ay bendito!” I said, grinning as I held out both arms, wiggling my fingers. “Come here, pretty girl.”
“Careful now,” Rex said, handing the little dog to me. “Lola’s hind parts are paralyzed so please don’t drop her.”
