A Dog's Way Home by Bobbie Pyron Page B

now, burying the front yard and piling against the house. A fretful wind howled across the chimney, but inside the cabin it was warm and dry.
    Ivy watched the snow, one hand stroking Tam’s head. “If ever there was a dog in need of a vet it’s you. But I don’t dare drive in this storm. I’d get us both killed for sure, and then I’d never hear the end of it from my daughter.”
    Ivy pulled up the footstool and sat down next to Tam.She put on her glasses for a better look. After her husband had died, she’d worked as a nurse’s assistant at the hospital in Galax. The old woman had helped put back together more folks than she cared to remember.
    Ivy gently parted the bloody, matted hair on Tam’s shoulder. She inspected the wound, then sighed. “Looks like the shot hit your shoulder bone and came out. That’s lucky. We got to get you sewn up, though, so you don’t lose any more blood than you already have.”
    Ivy checked Tam from nose to tail, then, as carefully as she could, rolled him over. “Oh dear,” she said with a sigh. Ivy peered at the angry, infected abscess. She’d seen this often enough back when she’d had dogs of her own. “Just like I thought. You’ve had a run-in with a porcupine.
    â€œWell,” she said, heading to the kitchen, “I got my work cut out for me.”
    Â 
    It was still snowing that night as Ivy sat, exhausted, in her rocking chair beside the fire. She had shaved the hair away from Tam’s shoulder, cleaned and disinfected the gunshot wound, and sewn it up.
    Removing the festering quill was harder. First, she lanced and drained the abscess, then cut into the cheek to find the quill. Once she’d dug it out, she washed and stitched his face. It was clear, though, that the dog’s body was full of infection. In his near-starved state, shewondered if he had the strength to fight it.
    Ivy stood and rubbed the ache in the small of her back. She pulled a fleece blanket across the dog. “I have my doubts whether or not you’ll make it through the night,” she said. “But if you’re still alive in the morning, I’ll call Doc Pritchett and see if he can come take a look at you.”
    The wind pushed against the walls of the cabin. Snow scratched hungrily at the windowpanes.

CHAPTER 23
Abby
    To: [email protected]
From: “Abby Whistler”
Date: Wed, January 6 7:32 pm
Subject: Hey again from Nashville
    Hey Olivia,
    Thanks for sending me that email right away the other night! I can’t believe how fast we can write each other. It’s almost like talking on the phone. I’m glad you and your granddaddy are going to see Meemaw this weekend. I miss her something terrible! You too! Mama says our family is a lot like a three-legged dog without Meemaw. We get along okay, but we don’t work nearly as well together without her.
    You asked what the kids are like at my new school. The girls all dress up like they’re famous country music stars—short, flouncy skirts and cowboy boots. Lots of jewelry. Even the girls in my grade wear makeup and have pierced ears! They’re nice, but they mostly talk about shopping. The boys all have this hair that looks like it’s blown by a good, stiff wind to one side. I think the boys spend as much time on their hair as the girls do! Ha! The weirdest thing is, during recess, all the kids just stand around texting each other on their cell phones, playing Game Boys by themselves or listening to music on their tiny little iPods. They don’t play dodgeball or four-square or anything. It’s boring. My teachers are nice, though, especially my homeroom teacher, Miss Bettis. She’s my English teacher too. She has the nicest smile of anybody.
    Oh, Olivia, I had the WORST dream about Tam a couple of nights ago! In my dream, he was lost and cold in the woods. He hardly looked like himself,