Seaglass Summer (5 page)

“You can help me in the kennel room,” Hawk says, handing me the mop. While he scrubs the empty cages with disinfectant, I clean the floor.

“I didn’t realize the place could get so dirty.” I wipe sweat from my forehead.

Hawk straightens a few cases of canned cat food. “What did you expect? We treat animals. They have fur. They pee, they poo, they bleed when they’re wounded, and sometimes they throw up. Haven’t you ever had a pet?”

I lean on the mop and shake my head. The truth comes out. Hawk looks at me, clearly surprised. “Never? Not even one? And you want to be a vet?”

I blush. “So sue me. My mom’s allergic to anything with fur.”

“That bites. Couldn’t you have, like, a turtle or a snake?”

“I don’t like the idea of keeping them in glass terrariums. Once, when Uncle Sanjay visited us, we heard about a pet chimpanzee that tore off a woman’s face. Uncle Sanjay said wild animals are meant to live in the wild. That goes for snakes and turtles, too.”

“Okay, you could get a hamster. I had a hamster once.”

“They have fur.”

“You could have fish. Fish are cool.”

“My dad gave me a goldfish when I was four, but after a few days, it died. I don’t know why. I was so sad, I never wanted to have another fish. Maybe that’s partly why I want to be a vet. I want to help the fish, too.”

“I can just picture it: Poppy Ray, Goldfish Veterinarian. If you want to save the fish, you’ll have to learn to scuba dive.” Hawk grins at me.

“I’m up for it.” I grin back at him. “But I’m going to focus on dogs and cats, mainly.”

“You could have a hairless dog, like maybe a Mexican Hairless. Or a sphynx. That’s a hairless cat.”

“My mom is also allergic to the saliva. Besides, she’s afraid of having another allergic reaction. Once, I …” I look at the floor. My stomach twists when I remember.

“Once you what?” Hawk steps closer. “You have to tell me.”

I sigh. “Okay. Once, when I was seven, I found a fluffy Pomeranian wandering down the street. I smuggled him into my bedroom closet. I wanted a pet so badly.”

Hawk’s mouth drops open. “You did not.”

“I did, but I couldn’t keep him quiet. My mom came in, and she had a terrible allergic reaction. She got a rash, and she sneezed up a storm.”

“Whoa. I bet you got in big trouble.”

“I had to scrub my room, and all the floors, and we washed everything in the house. My dad found the dog’s
owner, a lady who lives at the end of our street. I felt really guilty.”

“Hey, we all make mistakes.” Hawk sprays cleanser on the window and wipes it clean.

Duff pops her head in, her face shiny with sweat. She wipes her forehead. “Hawk, Poppy, come on! Sheesh, this must be puppy day. Things happen this way sometimes. Everything hits at once. You’re not going to believe this. We have
two
litters at the same time. One litter is in the dog exam room. But come to the treatment room first. Hurry!”

My heart skips, and Hawk raises his eyebrows at me as we follow Duff down the hall. The treatment room is a sea of puppies, ten in all. They’re not small and fluffy. Each puppy is the size of Lulu, a full-grown cocker spaniel, but these are short-haired white dogs with black splotches, gigantic paws, and knobby legs. They totter around carefully, with their legs spread out, trying to keep their balance on the slippery tile floor. They’re timid, trembling a little. Their owner, a tall woman with a long face and straight hair, tries to herd them onto a blue carpet. I recognize the paisley pattern—Uncle Sanjay’s office rug.

“What a splendid idea to bring in the carpet,” the lady says in a strong English accent. “Come, my babies, off the floor. Oh, perhaps they’re too nervous.” The puppies slide around, trying to avoid the mat.

“It’s all right,” Uncle Sanjay says. “Let them go where they want.”

“They look like newborn colts, don’t they?” Duff holds a puppy while Uncle Sanjay kneels to examine the paws.

“Great Danes!” Hawk says. He pets the puppies and they wag their tails.

“Thirty pounds each,” Uncle Sanjay says. “Healthy specimens. Poppy, Hawk, do you want to help hold them? Gently.”

Duff huffs as she lifts a puppy into her arms. “They’re only eleven weeks old.”

“Only eleven weeks?” I can’t believe it.

“They’ll grow to over a hundred pounds each,” Duff says.

I pet the puppy’s soft head. “His face is so big!”

The long-faced lady rushes over and kisses the puppy’s nose. “This is Sleepy. His eyelids droop. I named the pups after the seven dwarves but I had to make up three more names. Wakeful, Hoppy, and Dizzy.”

Hawk smiles, and his lips twitch, like he’s trying not to laugh. I help him hold the puppies, one by one, so Uncle Sanjay can listen to their hearts and examine them. “Duff weighed them when they came in,” he says to me. “We always weigh the animals first. She takes their temperatures as well.”

“That was fun,” Duff says, rolling her eyes.

“We didn’t take all the temperatures this time,” Uncle Sanjay goes on. “A few of the puppies are too nervous, so we’ll wait until their next visit. They’ll be back for more vaccinations in a couple of weeks.”

After the Great Dane puppies leave, we all gather in the dog exam room to help with the other litter of puppies. Nine Alaskan malamutes. “Seven weeks old,” Uncle Sanjay whispers. “About ten pounds each.”

They’re much smaller and fluffier, and they’re not nervous. They’re asleep on the floor.

All of them.

A few are lying on top of each other in a heap, and a few are stretched out on their backs, snoring.

Their owner—a man with soft, fluffy hair and sleepy eyes—sits on the bench, his thick hands clasped in his lap. “They’re pooped out,” he whispers. “My wife and daughter played with them all morning, and the drive tired them out, too.”

Uncle Sanjay lifts a dozing puppy. “They’re still young. They sleep a lot.”

Duff holds a fluffball in her arms. “Poppy, do you want to take this one? It’s a girl.”

When I cradle the pup, I’m so happy I can hardly breathe. “She’s so warm and heavy,” I whisper. “She’s not even waking up.”

Duff carries a sleeping puppy to the scale to weigh
him. “Days like this, I love my job,” she says.

I’m going to love my job, too, if I get to hold fuzzy puppies all the time.

Saundra pops her head in the door. “Daffodil’s here,” she says. She frowns at me.

Duff motions for me to follow her to the treatment room, where a magnificent golden dog trots back and forth. Her long, wavy hair flutters, and her tail wags like a flag. Daffodil is like the royal, celebrity version of Stu.

“Here, go for it. Do your styling magic.” Duff holds the dog while I run the comb through her hair—not a single knot, just a few kinks. When I’m finished, Daffodil looks spiffy.

Saundra calls from up front, “Daffodil’s owner is back to pick her up. Can you walk her up front, please? And, Duff, you have a call on line two.”

“Hang on a sec.” Duff steps into the hall to answer the phone. I pull the bow from my hair and tie it on top of Daffodil’s head. She looks beautiful now. I grab her leash and trot her into the hall, past Duff, who’s waving her arms at me. I wave back, and when Daffodil and I make our grand entrance in the waiting room, a tall man is standing there in a leather jacket; a red bandanna is around his head, a tattoo on his cheek. He takes one look at the bow on Daffodil’s head and bellows, “What have you done to my dog?”

Chapter Nine
THAT SANJAY

I
hide in the kennel room. Stu wanders in and sits next to me, as if he knows I’m upset. He rests a paw in my lap.

“I messed up with Daffodil and Shopsy,” I tell him, “but I need to keep trying, right?”

He looks into my eyes. Stu might give me wise advice, if only he could talk.

“I have to do more than hold puppies. What if I can’t learn to brush a dog?”

Stu’s tail thumps on the floor. I pet his ears. “You don’t care either way, I know. I wish I could be like you.”

On the walk home, he sticks close to me. He doesn’t slobber or stop to bury his nose in garbage.

“My dear niece, don’t worry,” Uncle Sanjay says. “It was your first time at the clinic, nah?”

“Daffodil’s owner hates me now. He ripped off the bow.” Now I know why Duff was waving her arms in the hall. She was trying to warn me.

“He doesn’t hate you. He needs to get in touch with his feminine side.” Uncle Sanjay chuckles. We stop to let Stu pee against a mailbox.

“Doris won’t bring Shopsy to the clinic ever again.”

Uncle Sanjay waves his arm. “Bah. She says that every time.”

“Except for the puppies, my first day sucked.”

“The days will get better, but sometimes you must endure difficulties first. I thought becoming a veterinarian was going to be all fun and games. I pictured Dr. Dolittle surrounded by talking animals. But real life is messy. We see so many sad cases. Sick pets, old pets, some hit by cars. I do my best, but I can’t save all of them. My skills only go so far.”

“Mine too. Mine don’t go anywhere.”

“You’ll keep learning. What matters is what you begin to know about yourself.”

I’m not sure I’ve learned anything.

When we get back to the cabin, Uncle Sanjay boils water for tea, and just as the kettle starts to whistle, my parents call. Mom’s voice, eight thousand miles away, echoes across the wide ocean. “Poppy, how are you? We’re staying with my parents. We’ve also seen your dad’s ma and a few of your aunts and uncles. They send their love. They miss you.”

“I miss them, too.” I wrap the long telephone cord around my wrist.

“Wish you were here, sweetie. How was your first day with Uncle Sanjay?”

I want to tell her about the worms in jars and my disasters with Shopsy and Daffodil. But I tell her only the good stuff. “Two litters of puppies came in. Nineteen of them! My day was amazing. I’m so glad I came here.”

Uncle Sanjay hands me a cup of tea, his eyebrows raised. I give him a woeful smile.

“I’m sneezing just thinking about all that fur,” Mom says. “But I’m glad your visit is going so well. Have you heard from Emma and Anna?”

“They don’t have cell phones at camp,” I say.

“Are you making new friends on the island?”

“I’ve only been here one day!”

“Seems we’ve been away from you forever. Hold on, your grandpa wants to talk to you. Bye for now, sweetie. Love you!”

A moment later, my grandfather’s deep, gruff voice comes on the line. “Poppy, why aren’t you here with us? Why are you staying with that Sanjay?”

“I miss you, too, Dadu.” I’ve always called him that, the Bengali word for a grandfather on the mother’s side of the family. “How are you?”

“My feet are paining, and my heart is weak. If that Sanjay had become a surgeon, he could’ve taken care of my heart. But he insisted on working with cows and goats—”

“Mostly dogs and cats. He’s a great doctor.”

My grandfather harrumphs. “Don’t get bitten by one of those wild beasts. You don’t want to come down with rabies.”

“I don’t have to worry about that here—”

“Next time, you come to India, nah? Everyone sends their love. Let me speak to that son of mine.”

I hand the phone to Uncle Sanjay. He listens, murmurs, and says “yes” a few times. “Give everyone our love,” he says. When he hangs up, he’s quiet. Then he rubs his forehead. “Ah, family. I miss them.”

“Me too.” I miss Mom’s clinking bangles. I miss Dad calling me Poppykins.

Uncle Sanjay comes over and rests a hand on my shoulder. “Come, let’s forget our worries and have a little fun. Would you like to go to a festival? We still have time. The evening is young.”

Chapter Ten
EVERYTHING LAVENDER

A
t eight o’clock, the sky is still bright, as if it’s only late afternoon. Uncle Sanjay drives me through town to a special “surprise” festival. I bring ten dollars in my purse.

“Don’t tell your ma and dad that I’m taking you out so late.” He winks at me. “We have long days here in July. We’re so far north, nah? We have light in the evenings and time to go to the fair.”

“Is there a roller coaster? A Ferris wheel?” I grab the
door handle as the truck sputters over bumps. Stu keeps farting. His breath smells like rotting seaweed.