On the Wrong Side of the Paw Read online

  “They let him outside with that pure white coat?”

  “Once in a while, I guess. Snowball sticks close to Bri, and Frankie doesn’t wander far from his mommy, so I think the cats are allowed supervised outdoor time. I doubt they go out after a rain, though.” Savannah giggled. “Frankie darted out one rainy day chasing after a squirrel, and managed to get himself all muddy. That’s when he had his first bath. Bud wasn’t home and his parents had never bathed a cat, so Bri called me for some tips. I ended up going over there and showing her how to do it. I mean, with two stark-white cats living on a ranch, it’s certainly something she should know how to do.”

  “I’d say so,” Gladys said. She ran her hand over Frankie’s fur as he walked past. “So was he manageable?”

  “Yeah, actually,” Savannah said. “He’s a pretty mellow fellow, and he took it in his stride. He didn’t much like the blow dryer, though. So we sat in a small room with a space heater for a while, brushing his fur and waiting for it to dry so he wouldn’t get chilled.”

  Gladys shook her head. “They’re like kids, aren’t they? Cats need a lot of care and they have different personalities, quirks, preferences, and little minds of their own.”

  “Oh yes. Didn’t you find that out when you had Darby a few years ago?”

  “Yes. Darby was fairly calm and not all that demanding. I’ve learned more about how different cats can behave since I’ve been here with your menagerie. I mean there’s sweet Buffy, who never causes anyone any trouble and loves a warm lap to curl up in.” She smiled. “She’s an easygoing cat like Darby is and as sweet and friendly as she can be. And Walter—well, he’s almost a ghost cat.”

  “A ghost cat?” Savannah repeated, amused.

  “Yeah, he hides most of the time—you know, sleeping under that blanket. He doesn’t interact much with cats or people. Then there’s Rags,” she said, grinning. “He’s so full of energy and mischief it isn’t even funny.” She chuckled. “Well, actually he is funny. He’s a real character.” She pointed a finger at Savannah. “If anything were ever to come between you and Michael, it would most certainly be that cat.”

  “Mother!” Savannah scolded. “Nothing’s going to come between me and Michael, least of all Rags. Bite your tongue.” She began waving her arms around saying, “Scat! Scat!”

  Gladys squinted at Savannah. “What are you doing?”

  “Trying to clear the air of that awful thing you just said.” She looked at the clock. “Oh, I need to get a move on. The alliance meeting’s here today. We have some sticky issues to discuss and I want to be ready.”

  “How can I help?” Gladys asked, picking up pieces of Play-Doh Lily had left on her table.

  “Lily,” Savannah called, “come help Grammy clean up your mess.”

  “All done,” Lily said after picking up two tiny globs of Play-Doh Gladys had missed.

  “Oh no, it’s not all done,” Savannah said. “I see pieces of paper you cut with your scissors.”

  “Where?” the child chirped.

  “On the floor under your table.”

  Lily pointed at her mother. “You clean that up, Mommy, with your broom.”

  “Oh no, you don’t,” Savannah said. “You made the mess, you clean it up.”

  Lily rolled her hands palm up. “But the mess is not on my table. I clean my table. You clean your floor.”

  Gladys stifled a laugh, and Savannah said, “Lily cut the paper, Lily helps clean it up.” When Lily balked, Savannah picked up the scraps and sprinkled them over the top of the small craft table. She waited to see the child’s reaction.

  “Is that my mess, Mommy?” she asked.

  Savannah nodded. “Yes, can you clean that up for Mommy and Grammy?”

  Before Lily could make a move, a grey-and-white streak seemed to come from out of nowhere. It skidded across the table, hitting the floor at a dead run.

  “Whoa!” Savannah shouted. “What was that?”

  “Your cat, of course,” Gladys said. “I think he’s trying to get Frankie to play chase.” She pointed. “But Frankie doesn’t feel well, does he? He just wants to crouch there next to that cat basket. Why don’t you open it, Vannie?” she suggested. “He acts like he wants to go back in there.”

  “I think you’re right,” Savannah said, opening the door to the carrier and watching Frankie scoot inside. “Poor kitty,” she crooned. She ran her hand over Rags’s fur. “He doesn’t feel like playing today, Ragsie. Just let him rest, okay?” That’s when she noticed that her daughter was leaving the room. “Hey, Lily,” she called, “where are you going? Did you finish cleaning up your mess?”

  Lily walked back to the table and gestured. “No things on my table, Mommy. Rags cleaned my table.”

  Hands on hips, Savannah said, “But look under the table. The scraps are back on the floor under the table. Want to pick those up for me?”

  Wide-eyed, Lily said, “I no do that, Mommy. Rags do that.” She abruptly turned and trotted out of the room.

  When Savannah heard her mother chuckle, she demanded to know, “What’s funny? Your granddaughter just outsmarted me.”

  “I know,” Gladys said, trying to contain her amusement. “That was pretty slick, don’t you think so? She’s a gifted…”

  “Manipulator,” Savannah said.

  “Well, I was going to say negotiator—she’s a diplomat and she’s learning how to...”

  “Manipulate me,” Savannah complained.

  “You talk like that’s a bad thing. Be happy that the child can think for herself and…”

  “Get around her mother?” When Savannah realized that Lily had returned with her own cleaning tools, she laughed. “Now why didn’t I think of that?” She ran her hand over Lily’s head. “Are you going to use your little broom and dustpan to clean up your mess?”

  Lily nodded and handed Savannah something. “Tie my apron on me, Mommy.”

  “Sure, punkin. Thank you for being such a good helper.”

  The child beamed with pride.

  ****

  “Mom,” Savannah said a few hours later, “I just put Teddy down for his nap. I’m going to deliver Frankie to the clinic now. Want me to take Lily with me?”

  “No. Leave her here. She can help me arrange the cookies on the platters. She likes doing that.”

  Lily stood up from where she was playing. “Wash my hands,” she said.

  Savannah smiled at the child. “Yes, you have to wash your hands before you work in the kitchen, don’t you?”

  Gladys winced. “Now if I can just keep her from licking the frosting off the cookies.”

  “Lily,” Savannah said firmly, “you can have one cookie. The rest are for our guests.”

  “For Auntie?” Lily asked. “Colbi, Ris-Ris?”

  “Yes. Now, no licking the cookies.”

  “I lick my cookie?”

  “Yes,” Savannah said, “you can lick your cookie—just one cookie for you, okay?”

  “Okay. Bye, Mommy,” the child called as Savannah stepped out the door with Frankie in his carrier. Several minutes later, she walked into the waiting room at the Ivey Veterinary Clinic.

  “Hi, Mrs. Ivey,” Scarlett, their longtime receptionist, greeted. She looked at the carrier. “So you have Ms. Brianna’s cat, Frankie?”

  Savannah was about to respond when Bud walked into the waiting room. He looked at the carrier. “You have Frankie? What’s wrong with Frankie?” He moved closer.

  “Um…I don’t know,” Savannah said. “Bri asked me to…”

  “You didn’t know he was sick, Dr. Bud?” Scarlett asked. “It must be something that came on fast.”

  Ignoring the receptionist, he lifted the carrier and peered inside. “Hi, buddy,” he cooed. He asked Savannah, “What are his symptoms, do you know?”

  “He’s not eating, and he seems lethargic.” Unable to contain herself, she blurted, “Bud, can I talk to you? Are you busy?”

  “No. I have a few minutes.” Appearing a little nervous
, he said, “I was just going out for a walk—to get some exercise, you know.”

  “Wow!” Savannah said. “I’d think you’d get plenty of that, living on a ranch and helping your folks with the livestock and all.” She hesitated, then said, “Hey, I can walk with you.”

  After giving this some thought, Bud agreed. “Well, okay, I guess.”

  “Good.” She turned to Scarlett. “Would you let Dr. Mike know that he still isn’t eating? I was able to get a little chicken broth down him, is all. I think he’s dehydrated—he might need IV fluids.”

  “Sure,” Scarlett said. “I’ll tell Dr. Mike.”

  “Bud, what’s going on?” Savannah asked once they’d stepped outside.

  “So you saw Brianna today, did you?”

  “Yes, for the first time in a while. We were surprised to hear that she’s taken an apartment and even has the two cats with her.”

  “Yeah, surprised me too,” he admitted.

  “Really?” “Well, maybe not. I always got the feeling she had one foot on the running board, so to speak—you know, ready to bail out of our relationship at any moment. Or is that my insecurity speaking?” Bud shook his head. “Oh, she loves me in her way, but she’s not crazy about my lifestyle. I can’t say as I blame her. What do I have to offer someone like Brianna? I’m a rancher and…well, she’s not.” He stared down at his feet as they walked. “There certainly are things about the ranch that she seems to like, so I really don’t know what brought this on. I’m…well, I’m confused, I guess.”

  “Bud, I’m so sorry. Maybe she just needed a break. Did you get the sense that the two of you should take a break from each other?”

  “Yeah, ever since we got together.”

  Savannah felt a deep sense of empathy for Bud. “Is there anything I can do? Do you want me to talk to her—maybe give her a reality check?”

  He forced a laugh. “And what would that involve? What is the reality, Savannah?”

  “Um…well, that…” She slumped. “I guess I don’t know. No one does, except for the two of you. I just want to see you both happy. I’m on your side.”

  “How do you know that? What is my side?” he challenged.

  “Gads, Bud, you’re really putting me on the spot, aren’t you? But I have to say, I would imagine you want a life with Brianna.”

  “Not if I can’t make her happy. It appears that we don’t want the same things.”

  Savannah took a couple of quick steps to catch up. “Bud, I may be going out on a limb here, but I get the impression that you both want a loving relationship. You both want children and a career. Are your differences actually strong enough—serious enough—to cause you to walk away from each other? I mean, look at Michael and me. I love horses and riding. He doesn’t, so much, so I get my horse fix with my girlfriends. He likes to take on odd jobs using his carpentry skills. While he’s out doing that, I have time to do some writing.”

  “Writing?” Bud asked.

  “Yes, I discovered that I really enjoy writing. I’ve actually started another book. I’d rather go shopping than fishing, I’m not much of a hiker, but Michael and Adam love fishing and hiking. Give me a horse any day. Every relationship has differences because relationships are made up of two different people with different likes, dislikes, skills… You are not Brianna’s clone and you shouldn’t try to be.”

  When Bud didn’t respond, she said, “The worst thing you can do is try to change someone to be more like you are or, heaven forbid, try to change yourself to be more like she is—you know, I mean those things that you’re passionate about, your values, your core-self.” The couple walked in silence for a few moments, then she said, “I don’t know about your situation, but for some people, success is just a matter of turning expectations into acceptance and having a deep understanding of your fundamental needs.”

  He ran his hand through his hair and took a deep breath. “Wow, Savannah, have you ever thought about doing relationship training or motivational speaking? Next question,” he said, grinning sheepishly, “would you give that speech to your sister?”

  Savannah winced. “I think she’s heard some of this from me before. The question is, is she finally ready to listen?” She slowed her pace. “So Bud, if I may ask, where are you in this…um relationship?”

  “I’m all in—always was and always will be. I’m just not sure I can be who Bri wants me to be.”

  “How much are you willing to change?”

  He looked at her suspiciously. “I thought you said we shouldn’t change.”

  “No, not your dreams or your values. But I believe that most successful couples make some concessions for one another—you know, they compromise—do a little give and take. She knows you’re a rancher and that you’re probably always going to be a rancher. But that doesn’t mean she can’t have a lovely home, if that’s a priority for her, and an active social life. You might agree to get involved with a charity for her and she might help with a late night calving when necessary.”

  “So you don’t think I need to make major changes?” he asked. “No. If that’s what Bri’s asking you to do, then this might not be a match made in heaven. But it’s a good exercise to think seriously about what things you would be willing to give up or change in order to have something else that you want—in this case, a permanent relationship with Brianna.” She asked, “Bud, have the two of you thought about seeing a marriage counselor or a relationship therapist? This could be useful in helping you understand important things about yourselves and each other and maybe to learn how to communicate better.”

  “It has come up a time or two, but then we drop it and go on about our lives together until the next little ripple, then it might come up again. Usually, it seems, we just resign ourselves to doing more of the same—more tolerating, maybe resenting a little, and we don’t get anywhere.”

  “Bud, I think you know what you need to do.”

  “Yeah, I think you’re right.”

  “What? Tell me,” she prompted. “Are we on the same page?”

  “Well, what I’d like to do is give Bri a little space. I’ll shop around for a therapist and in a week or maybe two, I’ll call Bri, if she hasn’t called me first, and I’ll…”

  “Take her a bouquet of flowers,” Savannah said, “or a stuffed white kitty. Yeah, that’s it—one that looks like Frankie and Snowball.”

  “A toy?”

  “No,” she insisted, “an adorable reminder of how much you care and how caring you can be.”

  “Yeah, that’s a good idea; and maybe candy…”

  “No candy,” Savannah cautioned. “Bri’s too concerned about her weight. Just the sweet cuddly kitty and reservations for an intimate dinner for two at the Riverboat Inn on the patio overlooking the river.” She became more excited. “Or an elegant picnic somewhere—amidst a field of wildflowers, maybe. Your mom can make you an impressive lunch.”

  “Yeah! Good one. Then what?”

  “Then pour your heart out to her—share whatever true feelings you have gotten in touch with. Hopefully she’ll do the same.”

  “Can I suggest a therapist then?” he asked.

  “I’d play that by ear. Just listen to her, Bud. Brianna has a very sensitive side underneath that tough exterior. Listen and understand and believe what she tells you. I think one of the mistakes we make in relationships is to read things into what our partner says to us. Believe her. You want her to believe you, don’t you?”

  He nodded. “Absolutely.”

  “Then believe her—take what she says at face value. Then you’ll know whether you want to suggest therapy. Actually, women are more inclined to accept that idea, but they often get shut down by their men when they bring it up, so it becomes a touchy subject.”

  “Really?” He shook his head. “Savannah, I’ve learned so much from you today.”

  “Perspective, Bud.”

  “Huh?”

  “I don’t think I said anything you didn’t already know. I suspect
you just didn’t put those things quite in the right perspective. Maybe I helped you to do that.”

  He looked around. “Hey, I’d better get back. I want to find out what’s wrong with Frankie. Is Snowball okay?” “As far as I know.” Savannah glanced at her watch. “Yes, the cat alliance meeting’s at my house in about an hour. I’d better get back, too.”

  “Thanks again, Savannah, for talking to me.”

  She smiled. “Hey, thank you for letting me spew my two-cents worth.”

  He thought for a moment before saying, “I suspect your two cents will be worth way more than that to me—hopefully to us.”

  She smiled and hugged him briefly.

  ****

  “How’s Frankie?” Savannah asked Scarlett when they returned to the clinic.

  “Dr. Mike’s with him. Go on back—room two.” Scarlett handed Bud a folder and nodded toward a couple in the waiting room. “The Hansons are here with their Yorkie, Mindy.”

  “Hi, hon,” Michael said while easing Frankie back into his carrier. He tightened his lips in contemplation and took a deep breath. “I don’t find anything wrong with him, except that he just doesn’t seem to have his usual gumption.”

  “Gumption, huh?”

  “Yeah, his get-up-and-go has somehow got up and left him. I took a blood sample. We should have results back tomorrow. I don’t think it’s kidney, but it could be. His bladder function seems good. I don’t know what it is. Why don’t we do this: ask Bri if we can keep him at our house overnight to monitor him. If the blood work indicates something, we’ll be able to start treatment possibly tomorrow, but right now I just don’t know. I gave him an IV. You’re right, he was dehydrated. I want you to continue trying to get some chicken broth down him. Otherwise it’s just a waiting game.”

  “So often it is,” she said, reaching into the carrier and rubbing Frankie’s face. “If only they could talk.” She leaned across the exam table and kissed Michael. “See you later.”

  He grasped her arm, pulled her to him, and kissed her again, then followed her out of the exam room. “So what did you find out from Bud? I hear you took him for a walk.”