call ahead for you.”
* * *
Clyde came to, whimpering and terrified, about halfway to the animal hospital. He was obviously in too much pain to get down off his towel on the car seat and hide, but he hissed weakly at Karen when she tried to pick him up. The vet, a brisk blonde woman of fifty, met her at the door of the hospital.
“Your uncle told me to expect you, dear. I’m Dr. Vaughan. We close at 6:00. My service caught me just before I went out. Very lucky.”
“Yes. Thank you, ma’am,” Karen whispered.
“Let’s see the patient. Mmm. Nasty. What do you want to play in the traffic for, eh, kitty-baby? Why don’t you sit down? I’ll just take him in here.” The doctor disappeared with Clyde behind a swinging stainless steel door.
“He didn’t want to play in the traffic,” Karen told the creaking door. “He was pushed. My uncle tried to kill him.”
Dr. Vaughan emerged into the waiting room, drying her hands on a paper towel. “Well, dear, your kitty-baby will have to stay with us for a while. He’s all right. He’s shocky, but you’d expect that. I had to remove part of his back left foot, but he’ll never miss it. Cats adapt very well. He had a narrow escape, you know. Most traffic accidents are deaths.”
“Yes,” Karen said, mechanically. “I know. Thank you. How much do I owe you?”
“Forty dollars. No extra charge for the emergency call.”
Karen paid her and walked out. On her way across the parking lot, she stopped, possessed with an idea. She turned back to the animal hospital. The doctor came out after her and locked the waiting room door.
“Doctor? Can a person die from an allergy?”
* * *
Barry was upset. If Karen had been antisocial before, she was an automaton now. She expressed more emotion toward her computer than she did toward him. Whatever was wrong with her, she did manage to go on with her chores, paid her rent, and kept up with her schooling. The sulk couldn’t last forever.
He sniffled, and reached for a handkerchief. Much as he hated to, he was going to have to tell her to vacuum more carefully. Barry hated to criticize people for tasks he himself disliked, but he was still reacting to the cat, even though it had been gone more than a week. His eyes felt constantly as though there was grit in them, and he had a continually expanding headache situated just behind his sinuses. Right now it was the size of a grapefruit, but it was growing by leaps and . . . ACHOO!
His eyes were too watery to read comfortably, and television gave him a headache. His skin felt irritated under his clothing. Every nerve felt itchy. He found that he was pacing all over the living room, and he was angry at everything. He was just as happy that Karen wasn’t home that evening. She flinched if he said boo.
During the last week, Karen had been spending a lot of time out. She said she’d found she had quite a bit in common with the veterinarian. She was doing volunteer work at the animal hospital. Well, he considered it to be an acceptable substitute for owning a pet, under the circumstances. So must she, he hoped. He was just getting to be lonely without her. Still, Karen probably needed to work out some guilt feelings for nearly getting that cat killed.
Barry walked into his room to get a fresh handkerchief. For some reason his allergies seemed to react worse in his room than in any other part of the house. In fact, it was as if a cat was right there with him. Only half believing it, he looked under the bed to make sure there wasn’t one there. No, not a trace.
His clean handkerchiefs were in a neat stack on the dresser. Karen must have been too busy to put them away. Here, look, there was cat hair floating in the air when he picked one up. What carelessness! She hadn’t even washed her hands before doing laundry after coming back from the animal hospital.
He made his way into the bathroom and plucked a handful of tissues out of the box and plunged his nose into them. His
* * *
Clyde came to, whimpering and terrified, about halfway to the animal hospital. He was obviously in too much pain to get down off his towel on the car seat and hide, but he hissed weakly at Karen when she tried to pick him up. The vet, a brisk blonde woman of fifty, met her at the door of the hospital.
“Your uncle told me to expect you, dear. I’m Dr. Vaughan. We close at 6:00. My service caught me just before I went out. Very lucky.”
“Yes. Thank you, ma’am,” Karen whispered.
“Let’s see the patient. Mmm. Nasty. What do you want to play in the traffic for, eh, kitty-baby? Why don’t you sit down? I’ll just take him in here.” The doctor disappeared with Clyde behind a swinging stainless steel door.
“He didn’t want to play in the traffic,” Karen told the creaking door. “He was pushed. My uncle tried to kill him.”
Dr. Vaughan emerged into the waiting room, drying her hands on a paper towel. “Well, dear, your kitty-baby will have to stay with us for a while. He’s all right. He’s shocky, but you’d expect that. I had to remove part of his back left foot, but he’ll never miss it. Cats adapt very well. He had a narrow escape, you know. Most traffic accidents are deaths.”
“Yes,” Karen said, mechanically. “I know. Thank you. How much do I owe you?”
“Forty dollars. No extra charge for the emergency call.”
Karen paid her and walked out. On her way across the parking lot, she stopped, possessed with an idea. She turned back to the animal hospital. The doctor came out after her and locked the waiting room door.
“Doctor? Can a person die from an allergy?”
* * *
Barry was upset. If Karen had been antisocial before, she was an automaton now. She expressed more emotion toward her computer than she did toward him. Whatever was wrong with her, she did manage to go on with her chores, paid her rent, and kept up with her schooling. The sulk couldn’t last forever.
He sniffled, and reached for a handkerchief. Much as he hated to, he was going to have to tell her to vacuum more carefully. Barry hated to criticize people for tasks he himself disliked, but he was still reacting to the cat, even though it had been gone more than a week. His eyes felt constantly as though there was grit in them, and he had a continually expanding headache situated just behind his sinuses. Right now it was the size of a grapefruit, but it was growing by leaps and . . . ACHOO!
His eyes were too watery to read comfortably, and television gave him a headache. His skin felt irritated under his clothing. Every nerve felt itchy. He found that he was pacing all over the living room, and he was angry at everything. He was just as happy that Karen wasn’t home that evening. She flinched if he said boo.
During the last week, Karen had been spending a lot of time out. She said she’d found she had quite a bit in common with the veterinarian. She was doing volunteer work at the animal hospital. Well, he considered it to be an acceptable substitute for owning a pet, under the circumstances. So must she, he hoped. He was just getting to be lonely without her. Still, Karen probably needed to work out some guilt feelings for nearly getting that cat killed.
Barry walked into his room to get a fresh handkerchief. For some reason his allergies seemed to react worse in his room than in any other part of the house. In fact, it was as if a cat was right there with him. Only half believing it, he looked under the bed to make sure there wasn’t one there. No, not a trace.
His clean handkerchiefs were in a neat stack on the dresser. Karen must have been too busy to put them away. Here, look, there was cat hair floating in the air when he picked one up. What carelessness! She hadn’t even washed her hands before doing laundry after coming back from the animal hospital.
He made his way into the bathroom and plucked a handful of tissues out of the box and plunged his nose into them. His
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