A Special Kind of Family. Marion Lennox
too serious.
Tending an injured dog had problems not normally associated with people, the main one being their propensity to bite. This one looked beyond biting, but Dom sensed that even when he was well this dog would be docile. His eyes followed him with absolute trust.
But, hell, he must be hurt. Why wasn’t he moving?
A few months ago Dom had attended a guy who’d come off his bike onto gravel. That’s what this dog looked like—he’d been dragged along the road. His coat was a mass of scratches, some deep. His mistress was in a much better state than he was.
What was so wrong that the dog couldn’t move?
He’d laid the dog on the doormat and the dog had slumped so his legs were facing the wall. Now Dom carefully pulled the mat around—with dog attached—so he could get a clear view of the dog’s joints. A smashed leg would explain immobility.
But his legs were fine. Or…not. Here at last was information to enter in his patient’s history. In Dom’s expert medical opinion, these were her legs.
‘What’s your dog’s name?’ he called back into the sitting room.
‘You tell me and we’ll both know,’ the woman muttered, and Dominic thought he needed to give her something for pain.
But suddenly his attention switched back to the dog. For, as he watched, a ripple ran across its limp body. The muscle contraction was unmistakable.
From a little bit of information suddenly he had a lot of information. Too much. This dog was not male and she was not fat. She was heavily pregnant and by the look of her body she was in labour.
Great, Dom thought. Fantastic. Half an hour ago he’d been bored to snores. Now he had a wounded woman lying on his sitting-room settee, and a pregnant bitch who was showing every sign of dying unless he could do something about it. And the last vet had left Bombadeen back in 1980. Via the graveyard.
Okay, he needed a history. He rose, striding swiftly back into the sitting room. ‘I need to know…’ he started, but at the look on Erin’s face he changed priorities again and headed for his surgery. That foot would be excruciatingly painful. His surgery was at the back of the house, accessed through his study. Two minutes later he was back, hauling his bag open, retrieving what he needed.
‘Sorry,’ he said, kneeling beside Erin and lifting the rug back a little. ‘I shouldn’t have let the dog distract me. I’m giving you something for the pain. Are you allergic to anything?’
‘No, I—’
‘No reaction to morphine?’
‘No, but—’
‘Then let’s stop things hurting,’ he said. He should set up a mask but he was forming priorities as he went. A mask meant he’d need to stay with her while she slowly gained the level of pain relief she needed. But he had a birth on his hands. She had brought the dog, after all.
‘I don’t need morphine,’ she muttered.
‘Tell me it’s not hurting.’
She hesitated. Then, ‘It’s hurting,’ she conceded.
‘You came to the doctor’s. I assume that’s because you were looking for medical help.’
‘Your house is the first house out of bushland. But when I saw your sign… I was looking for help with the dog.’
‘I’m not a vet. I’ll do my best for her, but—’
‘Her?’
‘Her. But we’ll get you sorted first. I’ll give you something to stop the vomiting as well.’ He hesitated, his eyebrows still raised. Waiting for her agreement. She looked at the syringe. Then she winced again and nodded.
‘I suspect you’ve been brave enough for a lifetime tonight,’ he said gently, swabbing her thigh. ‘I need to go back to your dog but can you quickly tell me what happened?’
‘I’m on my way to Campbelltown,’ she said, closing her eyes as the needle went in. Then opening them again. ‘Hey, not bad. That hardly hurt.’
‘I’m a doctor,’ he said, and smiled. ‘It’s what I do. So then?’
She was still having trouble talking. Shock, exhaustion and fear had taken quite a toll. ‘Anyway, I’d sort of deviated from the main Campbelltown route. I…I needed thinking time. So I didn’t know the road. And then there was a car in front of me. An ancient car that trailed smoke. It was weaving as if the driver was drunk. It was just after dark. The road was narrow near the cliffs beside the river, and suddenly the rear door of the car opened and the dog was thrown out.’
‘Thrown…’
‘They pushed him,’ she said, horror flooding into her voice as she recalled. ‘Right into the path of my car. I would have hit him but I swerved.’
‘You went over the cliff!’ She must have. The road by the river left no room for error.
‘What do you think?’ she said bitterly. ‘So my car was on its side right down the bottom of the cliff. I’m lucky I didn’t go into the river. I lay in the car for a bit thinking someone would rescue me—I’m sure the people in the car in front must have seen what happened. But nothing. So finally I kicked my way out of the passenger door, which was suddenly my roof. It was really dark. My shoe came off and I couldn’t find it. I couldn’t find my phone. I climbed up the cliff but it took me ages and the dog was lying in the middle of the road. Just lying there. So I sat there in the dark, waiting to get my breath back—waiting for someone to come along. And I thought the dog was dying but he didn’t die. So finally I picked him up and carried him here.’
‘If you went over where I think you went over… That’s two—maybe three miles you’ve walked,’ Dominic said, horrified.
‘It felt like ten.’ She closed her eyes again. And then she opened them again. ‘What?’
‘Nothing. No, actually, not nothing. I’m thinking you deserve a medal. I can’t believe…’ He shook his head, forcing himself to move on. ‘I need to go back to the dog.’
‘The she dog,’ she said cautiously. ‘Elementary mistake. I guess my examination skills leave a bit to be desired.’
Definitely medical, he thought. Nurse? But now was hardly the time to ask.
‘The she dog,’ he agreed gravely. ‘And I think I know why she’s not moving.’
‘Why?’
‘She’s in labour. I’m guessing by the look of her that she’s been in labour for a while. I need to haul out my veterinary books and see what I can do. We’ll give your injection time to work and I’ll take a closer look at those scratches. Meanwhile…’
‘Do your best,’ she said, and managed a smile. ‘I didn’t pick she was a she and I didn’t pick she was in labour. I deserve to be struck off. But please…help her. I haven’t lugged her all this way to have her die.’
CHAPTER TWO
SHE might well have. The dog was still exactly as Dom had left her. He squatted beside her and winced.
She was an obvious stray. She wore a frayed collar with no identification. She’d been dumped. She looked emaciated and exhausted and ill almost to the point of death.
Maybe it would be more humane to put her down, he thought ruefully. As the only person with any medical knowledge for fifty miles, Dom had been called on for veterinarian duty in the past. He had something in his bag that would be fast and painless.
But…
But the dog was looking up at him. He’d never seen such pleading eyes.
He swallowed. It’d be sensible…
The dog’s gaze wasn’t leaving