“Well, then,” Dr. Marsh said, “you are to be complimented for being a Good Samaritan.”
Exactly, I thought, because I, like the Samaritan, fully intended to drop Ronnie off for someone else to care for.
Nonetheless, Dr. Marsh showed me how to put drops in Ronnie’s ear—one kind of drop for the left one and another kind for the right one, because he had two different infections.
“This one,” Dr. Marsh said, holding up a small plastic bottle, “is for the left ear and two drops should go in it every four hours for seven days. And this one,” he said, holding up a similar plastic bottle, “is for the right ear and three drops should go in it every four hours for seven days. And be sure to massage each ear after the drops go in so that the medicine gets distributed. Don’t worry, Ronnie will love it, but be sure you don’t skip any doses, especially for the first twenty-four hours.”
“My word,” I said, “somebody’s going to be up most of the night.” And who, I wondered, would that be? I couldn’t imagine that Helen would—she’d stay up all night to perfect a flower arrangement, but to medicate a swollen, oozing dog’s ear? I doubted it. And it wouldn’t be Thurlow, who couldn’t get out of bed at all. Thurlow’s minder? Not likely, as he’d be spending more time in Ronnie’s pen than in Thurlow’s bedroom, which was where he was most needed.
I rolled my eyes, giving in to the inevitable. “Mark those bottles well, Dr. Marsh. I don’t want to cross-medicate in the middle of the night.”
“You’ll do fine,” Dr. Marsh said. “Now, as to his food. I expect he’s been getting dry dog food, but I suggest that he get a soft, bland diet at least for the next few days.” He handed me a pamphlet showing how and what to prepare for Ronnie’s new diet.
When the three of us were back in the car, Ronnie stretched out on the backseat and Lillian, seated beside me, said, “You thinkin’ what I’m thinkin’?”
I cranked the car and began to back out. “If you’re thinking that there’s nobody left to care for that dog but me, then, yes, I’m thinking what you’re thinking. And I’m about half put out by it. I did, however, open myself up for it by trying to be helpful.”
“Well,” Lillian said, “I guess me an’ Latisha could spend the night, so you an’ me could take turns gettin’ up and givin’ him that medicine.”
“Thank you, Lillian, but I couldn’t ask you to do that. Tomorrow’s Saturday, so it won’t hurt Lloyd to lose a little sleep tonight. He can sleep late in the morning.”
Before she could answer, we heard an awful retching sound from the backseat. Too late, I recalled that Ronnie was prone to carsickness.
“He’s th’owin’ up!” Lillian said, trying to unbuckle herself so she could turn around.
From the rearview mirror, I saw Ronnie rise to his feet to stand on the seat, his head hanging low, his mouth open as great convulsive movements rolled up and down his body.
“Lay down, Ronnie!” Lillian cried as she hung over the front seat. “Step on it, Miss Julia! Le’s get him home.”
Too late, for after a few nauseating, rolling contractions, Ronnie emptied his stomach all over the foot well of my luxury car. Then, with a great sigh, he lay back down and closed his eyes, seemingly at ease and at peace, as who wouldn’t be after such a clearing out of the system.
The air was another matter, and Lillian and I drove home with all windows open in spite of the chilly weather. Quickly getting Ronnie out of the car, but not without his stepping where he shouldn’t have, we hosed off his feet, dried them, and led him into the kitchen.
“Lillian,” I said, “if you’ll find another blanket or something for him to lie down on, I’ll get the one out of the car and put it in the trash. Do we have any air freshener?”
Between the two of us, Lillian and I started the medication protocol, following the chart that Dr. Marsh had given us. He had been right—Ronnie loved the massage that went along with the eardrops. He moaned with pleasure as I rubbed the medicine in. I scrubbed my hands for ten minutes afterward.
“Law, Miss Julia,” Lillian said as she looked over the diet pamphlet, “to fix all this, I got to go to the grocery store an’ the drugstore, an’ maybe get a doctor’s prescription.”
I looked over her shoulder at the instructions. “My word, lean hamburger, lamb, rice, organic butter, wheat germ, calcium nitrate, yogurt, ginger, carrots, collards—of all things—and that’s just a start. What in the world is turmeric? Lillian, forget all this. I’ll pass it on to Helen. For now, fix him a mixture of hamburger meat and rice. Then throw in an egg or two, and whatever leftovers you have in the refrigerator. But no beans.”
Ronnie twitched his ears and sighed again. Then he stretched out on the fresh coverlet in the corner of the kitchen and, without moving his head, flicked his eyes from one to the other of us as we discussed his special diet.
“Yes’m, I ’spect he’ll eat most anything, as empty as he is.” She went to the refrigerator, opened the door to look in, then, as she straightened up, said, “They’s a light blinkin’ on the telephone, Miss Julia.”
“Oh, my,” I said, hearing Hazel Marie’s message to call her as soon as I came in. “What now?”
When I returned Hazel Marie’s call, her first words came tumbling out. “Oh, Miss Julia, you won’t believe it, but they’re over there right now with a man from Jason’s Remodeling Services. I know because that’s what’s painted on his truck that’s parked out front. They’re starting to fix up that house, which means they’ll be moving in before long. Can’t Binkie do anything to stop them?”
“I don’t know, but I’m going to find out. Just hold
