“For God’s sake, Holly, get ahold of yourself.”

“I’m not quite the animal lover Samantha is.” Holly meant it as a slight. Like my love for animals was a weakness. I couldn’t believe that Holly was implying that she didn’t love animals at a place whose sole purpose on this earth was to care for animals.

“I bet a few days here will change your mind,” said Griff generously.

“Doubtful. We are leaving today.”

Clearly Holly didn’t need Louise’s list of phrases to assert herself. I’d always wondered where all her confidence came from. All that I don’t give a damn what you think; I’m here, I’m crabby, get used to it.

The veterinarian slid his glance between us. “I’m sorry. There’s been some confusion. Peanut can’t leave today.”

“No! What? We have to go,” I said.

“His medical issues haven’t been fully sorted out.”

“That’s fine. I’m sure Katie has her own vet at home. We’ll get him there and have all his needs met closer to home,” said Holly.

I nodded rapidly, agreeing.

Hearing this, the veterinarian became a stone-cold animal-advocate professional. “He has to stay in quarantine, and we need him on solid ground with his diabetes. Stress is a problem for blood sugar, and he’s been maximally stressed lately. It wouldn’t be responsible for us to release him.”

“He’s not in quarantine. He’s got that other dog in there.” Classic. The only authority was Holly.

“That’s Moose. They came in together.” Moose was a tiny black dog with a pointy nose and eyes that bugged out like two shiny marbles. He had ears that bent at odd angles and made him look like a bat. “They bonded in the LA facility and don’t go anywhere without each other. They both had mange, so there was no cross-contamination. We tried separating them, and Peanut passed out every time.” Griff shrugged. “That’s the nice thing about working with animals. You don’t need a social worker to keep friends and siblings together. You can make your own rules.”

I loved it when someone else put Holly in her place. When someone else delivered bad news, even if this news made me nauseous. I checked the time on my phone, a useless move. “We’ve got to get going.”

“When will he be released to us?” Holly paced in a tight circle as if this information had been designed to torture her and not for the good of Katie’s dog.

“Peanut has several challenges.”

Holly stopped and said, “Okay, let me have it. I’ll take notes. What challenges does the dog have, and how long are we talking?” She tapped into a file on her phone.

“He’s been treated for mange, and we usually see good results in a few days.”

“How few?” Holly said, guarded.

“He’s through week one. So maybe three days?” said Griffin.

“Okay, okay,” I said, processing this. Three days here, two days on the road. “That’s five days before we get back to Katie.” This seemed like forever.

“What else?” Holly was a beat cop, a reporter for the Trib, a parent giving out curfews. “Give me the highlights.”

“We gave him a corticosteroid to reduce his itching. He scratched himself raw in a few areas, and we treated him with antibiotics for infection.” Griff glanced at me, and I nodded.

I’d wait until I could pet Peanut before texting Katie, aware that his challenges would become hers. Instead, I texted Drew.

ME: Peanut is not quite fit to travel.

BDREW: I’ll wait to tell Katie. I’m with her now. She’s sleeping.

He was doing what I asked. Why did that give me pause, make me sad? I shook my head, Good for Katie, knowing how silly it was of me to hope.

“He came in with some ulcers on his paws,” Griff went on. “Common with uncontrolled diabetes, and we are keeping those clean while still getting him some exercise.”

That’s when I noticed Peanut had two paws covered with white gauze. Moose actively licked one of them. I pointed to the pair. “Is it okay if Moose licks Peanut’s bandages?”

Griffin smiled in a fatherly way at the two dogs. “Yeah, just try to stop him. He’s like Peanut’s own personal nurse. He keeps the big dog clean and cuddled. It’s inspiring.”

Holly said, “Look, Doctor—I can see how important these dogs are to you, but this one here is my best friend’s, and she has cancer. We’re trying to get back home and reunite them. The sooner the better, you know?”

I was shocked to hear a hitch in Holly’s voice, and I examined her face. She had that flush she got when her emotions ran high, and I moved closer but didn’t touch her. Her eyes were like a crossing guard moving kids along: keep going, keep moving. But, I’d known Holly once. Her eyes were dry, but she was feeling the stress of this trip.

Griff looked evenly at us. “I understand. As soon as I’m sure he is safe to travel, and you won’t have to do anything but deliver him to your friend, I will personally sign the release papers.”

Holly nodded. I could see she couldn’t speak for fear of losing her steely control.

“I don’t know how much you know about diabetes, but insulin levels depend on simple things that nondiabetics never have to think about. Exercise, stress, food, and his insulin needs might change. You two will have to learn how to check his blood sugars and give him the insulin he needs. How are you with needles?” He held out a tiny syringe, and Holly blanched and looked away.

“I’m the one who will take care of Peanut as we drive him home. I’ve given shots before,” I said.

“Good,” he said. “Our education sessions won’t be long ones, but we want to make sure you know what you’re doing. How to read Peanut’s symptoms, what to feed him, and what to do if he looks in trouble.”

I nodded. “I think I can handle all that.”

“Now for Moose. He had mange too.”

“Why do we care about Moose? He’s not coming with us,” said Holly.

Griff looked at me and put his hands in the pockets of his khaki pants. “This is going to be a much longer stay while we separate the two and deal with their grief.”

“Grief. You’ve got to be kidding me.” Holly rolled her eyes the way Maddie did when she wanted to broadcast her disgust in a way that there would be no misunderstanding. Hers was the eye roll of eye rolls.

“We’re taking Moose,” I said. “No discussion.” More surprising declarations from Samantha Arias. WTF, Samantha? I thought.

Griffin looked closer at me and smiled.

I tried a confident hair flip, but my ring got caught in my hair, and I tried to discreetly free it. My hand hovered near my ear as if to say, You’re just not there yet, honey.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

GOT A PROBLEM? GET A DOG.

Holly grabbed my elbow and said, “Excuse us, Doctor, I need to talk to my friend here.”

Griff was no idiot. Likely he sized us up in seconds and knew to evacuate. He gave me a quick nod that held a tinge of worry. I hoped he saw the apology in my smile and not my shaky confidence about how to manage Holly.

“We are not taking that sponge of a dog with us.”

“Yes, Holly, we are.” This was something I could put my foot down about that had no long-term effect on anyone but me. I could see no gray areas for contention.

“No, Sammy, we are not.”

I stepped back and looked at Holly. Same perfect appearance despite camper living. A swath of fatigue under her eyes, two frown lines on her forehead, like two exclamation points punctuating her argument.

“Why could you possibly care if I adopt Moose? Furthermore, I’m not sure why you think you’re in charge of this.”

“Why do you think you can add another animal to this trip?”

“If Moose eases Peanut’s transition, then Moose is going with us.”

“When I agreed to leave Rosie and travel across country to get this dog—”

“Peanut,” I interrupted.

She closed her eyes and shook her head. “I agreed because you needed me, and Katie needed her dog.”

I bit my tongue. I did not want to impulsively protest this statement of need. I knew that was how we pitched it to get Holly out of the hospital, where she was irritating everyone from the housekeeping staff to the oncologists. But it rankled. Needed her, I internally scoffed. If I’d needed her, it had been when Jeff died or when Maddie was too sick to go to day care or the first time I ran myself ragged caring for Katie.

“Peanut. The dog’s name is Peanut.”

“Okay. Whatever, Sam.”

“Not whatever, Holly,” I said, my anger hot and fast. “The dog’s name is Peanut. He deserves to be called by his name.”

“I don’t understand you. Katie doesn’t have a child, so her dog can be a substitute. But you have Maddie. Dogs are not people. I should be home with Rosie, and we both should be at Katie’s side.” Holly leaned into me, her big head on her skinny body, like an authoritarian cake pop without the fun sprinkles.

“We are at Katie’s side right now,” I insisted. “We are comforting her by getting what she needs and bringing it to her. You don’t have to understand why she loves him, although you’d have to be made of stone to not see it.”