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It was barely after 7 in the morning on what should otherwise have been a quiet Saturday morning, and Tina had just settled in at the reception desk at the veterinary clinic, the Guardian crossword open on her computer. But before she could even get started on it, she was interrupted by the door to the clinic banging open, followed almost immediately by the strangely muffled cheerful tinkling of the bell above the door. “Fucking– fuck,” the tallest man she’d ever seen spluttered from the doorway, trying in vain to bat the bell away from his head while at the same time trying not to get tangled up in the dog lead he was holding in one hand.
She cleared her throat. “Can I, er, help you?” she asked, trying very hard not to laugh.
The man managed to mostly right himself, giving one last glare at the offending bell before turning to face her. “Sorry,” he said, managing a small but nonetheless quite charming smile. “Are you, er, open?”
It was a bit of a stupid question, considering he was already inside, but she nonetheless nodded. “Yes, we’re open,” she said, before asking, “Do you have an appointment?”
He shook his head. “No, it’s a bit of an emergency,” he said. “I was hoping someone might be able to see us even without an appointment.”
Normally, she’d send him to one of the emergency vets in the city, but there wasn’t really one close, and besides, their half 7 appointment had cancelled the previous night. “I think we’ll be able to squeeze you in,” she said, standing. “Is your dog in active distress?”
“Describe active distress,” he said, glaring down at the small brown dog panting happily at his feet. “She’s a menace, I can tell you that much. And I have the feeling she’s going to end up costing me a small fortune.”
Tina hid her smile as she printed the intake paperwork. “What appears to be the emergency?” she asked as she clipped the papers to a clipboard, which she passed across the counter to the man.
“She ate a sock.”
He said it almost apologetically, bending over the clipboard to fill out the form, and she arched an eyebrow. “A sock?” she repeated, amused despite herself. “Did you, er, see her eat the sock?”
The man glanced up from the paperwork, scowling. “I didn’t sit there watching her gobble it down, if that’s what you’re asking.”
It hadn’t been, but Tina had been working this job for long enough to tell that his irritation was more misplaced concern than actual rudeness. “So what leads you to believe she ate it?” she asked.
If anything, the man looked even more exasperated now. “There were two socks,” he said, sounding like he was on the very edge of losing his patience. “I went to get her lead to take her for a walk. I came back with her lead, and there was only one sock.”
Tina decided not to press the issue and settled for simply nodding. “Ok,” she said. ready to change the subject to any symptoms the dog’d been having since eating the sock.
But before she could, he added, in a strangled sort of tone, “And she looked guilty.”
Seeing as how the dog in question was currently contentedly drooling on the man’s trainers, Tina couldn’t quite stop her smile. “Did she?” she managed without laughing, and the man’s scowl deepened.
“I’m hardly an animal psychotherapist, but—”
“Is it possible that she just hid the sock?” Tina suggested and she could’ve sworn the man’s facial expression cycled through the five stages of grief before ending back on exasperation.
“I think if she’d deliberately hid the thing, she’d definitely need therapy.”
Tina took pity on him. “I just don’t want to put her through any unnecessary tests,” she told him, and he at least looked momentarily chagrined. “So if she’s been eating, drinking and, er, defecating like normal, and there’s a possibility she didn’t actually eat the sock—”
He cleared his throat. “Look, I’m sorry,” he said, and to his credit, he sounded it. “I appreciate that you want to spare her unnecessary tests, but the thing of it is, she’s not my dog. I’m dog-sitting.” He pulled a face. “Sort of. It’s complicated.” He huffed a sigh before continuing, “And if she did in fact eat the sock, and if she gets sick because she ate the sock, I will be in an unspeakable amount of trouble. Like, relationship-ending trouble.” He gave her almost a pleading look. “So from where I’m standing, there is no such thing as an unnecessary test.”
The poor man sounded rather on the edge of a nervous breakdown, and she nodded as she took his completed forms. “I totally understand,” she assured him. “I’ll just print some consent forms for you to fill out while we wait for the vet, and we’ll go from there, yeah?”
“Thank you,” he sighed with something like relief, and Tina gave him a tight smile as she quickly input his information into the computer.
The man, Greg per the forms he’d completed, sat down with another sigh, the chair groaning an echo to his sigh, and the dog immediately hopped up on his lap. He started petting her automatically even as he glared unconvincingly down at her. “Your mother is going to throttle me with her bare hands, you realise,” he said sourly as she wiggled into a better position for him to pet her belly. “Yeah, fuck off, you furry little shit,” he grumbled, still petting her.
Tina hid a smile before assuring him as she brought him the consent forms, “I’m sure she won’t.”
Greg glanced up at her. “Sorry?”
“Your girlfriend,” Tina told him. “She’ll understand better than you’re giving her credit for. Dog owners know their dogs eat stupid shit, even when you try to stop them.”
But rather than looking mollified, Greg mostly just looked confused. “I haven’t got a girlfriend,” he said.
“Oh, sorry,” Tina said, wincing. “You, er, you mentioned her mum—”
Greg glanced down at the dog before realisation hit. “Oh, er, wife, not girlfriend, but—”
“Oh, shit, sorry,” Tina blurted, certain she’d insulted the man. “You’re not wearing a ring, but I shouldn’t assume—”
But if anything, Greg looked almost as embarrassed as Tina felt. “Ah, shit. Not, er, not my wife.”
Tina raised both eyebrows, absolutely regretting the turn this conversation had taken. “Right, I’ll just, er—”
“Christ, that sounds—” Greg broke off, scrubbing a hand across his mouth. “Look, she’s my, er, my friend’s dog. And his wife is the one who will kill me if something happens to the damned dog.” He shook his head, something darkening in his expression. “Not as much, assumedly, as if something happened to one of their sons, but that’s why we’re doing a trial run with the dog, to makes sure that I’m actually up for looking after the kids over a weekend if they ever wanted to come to London or—” He caught sight of the look on her face and broke off. “Fuck me, I really need to stop talking.”
She cleared her throat. “I just, er, I need you to finish filling out the, erm, forms, is all,” she said delicately.
Greg winced. “Fuck, of course, sorry.” He quickly scribbled his signature on the forms before shoving the clipboard back at her. “Here, you’ve my consent to do whatever, and I’ll call her vet in Chesham, get them to send over her records or whatever you need.”
“Right,” Tina said, already making a hasty retreat to her desk, and luckily, she was saved from any further awkward conversation by the vet finally coming out into the waiting area.
“Mr, er, Davies?” the vet said, glancing down at the forms Tina handed her. “I’m Dr Stone, it’s nice to meet you.” She squatted down to offer the dog her hand to sniff. “And you must be Loky. Been eating the washing up, I hear?”
Greg nodded, setting Loky down on the ground before standing himself. “Yes, she decided to eat a sock for breakfast,” he said. “Evidently, she took it literally when I told her to put a sock in it.”
Dr Stone laughed, glancing up at Greg before apparently realising just how far she had to glance up and standing upright. “Right, well, good on you for bringing her in. Can’t hurt to be thorough, especially since a bowel obstruction is no joke. Let’s get her back to an exam room.”
As Greg followed Dr Stone to the back, Tina let out a sigh of relief. Hopefully Dr Stone would assure him there was nothing wrong with the dog, and he’d be on his merry way before Tina could stick her foot in it again. And also so that she could google him in peace, because she was certain she recognised him from somewhere, though she couldn’t quite place it.
All too soon, though, Greg returned to the waiting area without the dog, which told Tina that Dr Stone was in fact running some tests on her. “Better safe than sorry,” Greg told her with a grimace as if reading her thoughts, and he settled in the same chair as before, pulling his phone out.
Before he could do whatever he’d likely planned on doing with his phone, it vibrated in his hand, and his brow furrowed as he looked down at it. “Alex?” he said, holding it up to his ear.
Ordinarily, Tina would ask him to take the call outside, but there was no one else there, and besides, she didn’t mind eavesdropping just a little, curious if she might learn more about whatever the situation was with the actual owner of the dog.
“No, you don’t need to drive into the city—” Greg said into the phone, rolling his eyes at whatever the response was. “Because what are you going to do that the vet isn’t? Hold your damn dog’s paw while they wait for her to shit it out?”
He was giggling a little by the end, though his smile – and his entire body, really – softened as he listened. “Well, yes, holding my hand would be lovely, but that’s not necessary—”
Whoever he was speaking with cut him off, and Greg barked a laugh, quickly covering his mouth and giving Tina almost a guilty look as he said in a quieter volume than before, but still thankfully audible, “I can’t believe I’m here having a bloody panic attack about your dog dying and you’re implying that we should leave your dog at the vet and sneak back to mine to—”
Again he got cut off, and again he laughed. “Yeah, mate, it’s all fun and games until Rachel murders us both, you fucking prick.”
He sat up slightly straighter at whatever the response was. “Yeah, vet’s just running some tests but she said she thinks the sock’ll probably pass on its own. She’s given Loky some industrial strength laxative – I’ve asked if I can borrow some off her for the next time I get blocked, but she didn’t seem to find that funny – so might only be a few hours.”
His brow furrowed with a scowl. “Yes, I’m sure. Why does everyone seem to think I’ve hallucinated the dog eating a fucking sock?”
He glared in Tina’s direction and she quickly pretended to look busy, trying very hard not to laugh. Not that it mattered, since a moment later Greg’s irritation was focused again on whomever he was speaking with. “No, I didn’t feed her the sock,” he said impatiently, rolling his eyes again. “Yes, ha ha, it would be a great way to get rid of socks I didn’t like, but if I was going to do that, I’d’ve given her the socks your boys gave me for Christmas.” He pulled a face. “Yes, I know they light up. Why do you think I hate them?”
Tina got the sense that Greg very much meant the opposite, and very much treasured the light-up Christmas socks in question.
“Oh, the, er, the ones you gave me,” Greg continued, something again softening in his expression as he nodded in response to a question. “Yeah, those ones. All the more reason why I have to wait, because I actually do want the fucking sock back.”
Again he rolled his eyes, but this time with such unabashed affection that something warm tingled in Tina’s chest as she smiled down at her computer. “Yes, I realise you can just buy me a new pair, but it’s not the same thing, is it? These have sentimental value.”
She had to stifle her laugh as he added wryly, “No, I don’t know if the sentimental value will hold up after a trip through your dog’s digestive tract and however many loads of washing it takes to get the dog shit smell out, but I suppose there’s only one way to find out.”
He sighed again before continuing, suddenly serious, “Look, mate, I’m sorry—” He broke off, scowling, before assumedly talking over the person on the other end. “Yeah, but I’m supposed to be proving– because you’re not the one I’m trying to prove it to!” He rolled his eyes so hard it looked almost physically painful. “No, I don’t think your boys are stupid enough to eat socks, but I didn’t think your dog was either and now look where we are.”
Once again, he softened. “Still,” he said, a little stubbornly. “I feel bad.” He pulled a face. “Right, cheers, now that you’ve told me not to, I magically feel fine, thanks.” He scowled again. “Because it’s my fault?”
Tina didn’t know what the other person was saying, but Greg pulled the phone away from his ear, miming mouthing along to the person, seemingly for his own benefit alone. “Yeah, I definitely believe a dog that size tried to eat your fucking sofa– because you’ve never been known to exaggerate, obfuscate, or otherwise outright lie as the mood suits you? Fuck off—”
This time he didn’t soften so much as almost melt, his relief palpable at whatever the person on the other end of the phone was saying. “I know,” he murmured, so quietly that Tina had to actually strain to hear. “Yeah, I– I know. I love you, too. Look, I’ll—”
He broke off at the exact moment Tina jumped in her seat, so busy listening that she hadn’t heard or seen Dr Stone emerge from the back. “Vet’s here,” Greg said into the phone. “I’ll call you back.”
“Everything looks normal,” Dr Stone told him, and Greg once again looked relieved beyond belief. “Why don’t you come back with me and we can discuss next steps?”
“Yeah, all right,” Greg said, smiling at her. “Thank you, I appreciate you seeing her…”
His genuine platitudes trailed off as he followed the vet back to the exam room, and Tin shook her head, looking back down at her crossword. Part of her was disappointed that this one-sided phone conversation was the only insight she was going to get.
The other, larger part of her couldn’t help but think, in an idle sort of way, that if Greg loved this Alex chap even half as much as he seemed to care about his dog, then Alex was a very lucky man indeed.