End of the Race Read Free Page A

close to the edge for general anesthesia. I’ll just give her a local anesthetic to numb the area around the injuries instead of completely knocking her out. Otherwise, she may not come back. Maggie, keep an eye on her vitals and inform me of any change.” Gran quickly injects lidocaine near the lacerations so that she can cut and scrub without the dog feeling it.
    I keep my ear close to the dog’s diaphragm.
Keep breathing, Gingerbread.
“So far, so good, Gran.”
    “Bandage, please, Sunita,” Gran requests.
    Sunita offers a roll of cotton and a roll of gauze. “What about the broken bones, Dr. Mac?” she asks.
    “Good question. We’ll put what’s called a Robert Jones bandage on her leg. It’s a big, padded cotton bandage that will support the bones while we treat the wounds every day. When the infection is gone we can put on a splint or even surgically stabilize the bones.” Gran wraps many layers of cotton around the greyhound’s foreleg and uses the gauze to secure it in place. She listens once more to Gingerbread’s heartbeat, then straightens up. “I think she’s going to pull out of it, but we’ll have to keep a close eye on her. Don’t remove the tube until she tries to cough it out.” Gran sighs deeply. “You kids are really becoming pros!” She removes her glasses, which hang on a beaded chain. “Sunita, will you help me clean up? Maggie, you can wheel the patient to the recovery room.”
    Before I wheel Gingerbread to recovery, I can’t resist stroking her head one more time. Her ears are like velvet. One ear has a blue tattoo on the inside. I frown. Sometimes purebred dogs get a tattoo, but this one looks different, bigger. “Hey, what’s thisblue tattoo inside her ear, Gran? It’s got some numbers and the letter B.”
    Gran puts her glasses back on and peers at the tattoo. “Hmmm. That’s the kind of mark a racing dog gets, with her racing number, line of parentage, and age. The handlers use it to keep track of the dogs. Take her to recovery, and then let’s go talk to Roselyn.”
    As we enter the waiting room, Roselyn looks up anxiously. “Is Gingerbread OK?” she asks. Her tired green eyes have bags under them.
    “To tell the truth, it was close, but it looks like Gingerbread will pull through,” replies Gran.
    “What’s her diagnosis?” Roselyn asks.
    “Stress fractures,” Gran says quietly. “They can occur if a dog is running very fast, then stumbles.” Gran pauses. “Does this dog race?”
    Roselyn’s smile fades. “Race? I don’t know anything about any racing.” Is it my imagination, or does she look scared?
    “Then you wouldn’t know anything about a large tattoo in her ear, either?”
    Gran’s blue eyes can be piercing.
    “The kind racing owners use to identify their dogs?” I add.
    The color drains from Roselyn’s pink cheeks. “No, I told you. I’d never seen that dog before last week, when some jerk pulled up in a van and dumped her right in front of my house.”
    Gran doesn’t reply. Instead, she turns to me. “Maggie, would you please write up Roselyn’s bill? I need to clean up and start my evening rounds. Don’t forget homework later.” I nod.
    “Nice work holding down the fort,” Gran says to Taryn on her way past the reception desk. “Maybe next time you can help with an animal procedure.” Gran turns to me. “Oh, have you been introduced? Taryn’s our new volunteer.”
    “We met,” I answer.
You mean this is permanent?
    “I’d sure love to help with an animal next time, Dr. Mac!” Taryn looks radiant.
    Taryn’s much too young to be handling animals. Brenna, hurry back from Costa Rica!
    As I write up the bill, I glance at the greyhound’s chart. When Taryn took Roselyn’s information, she wrote down the dog’s name—Gingerbread—but forgot to write down Roselyn’s last name or address. I’ll have to mention it to Gran. After my dreaded homework’s done.

Chapter Three

    T here, I think everything fits,” Sunita