How to Heel a Wounded Heart (Must Love Dogs Book 4) Page 2

  “I think you need a doggie shaman, not a dog coach,” said Cason with a smile as he moved to the rest of Fiyero’s body. “As far as the name, I actually talked the owner out of Carpe Canis.”

  “Seize the dog?” said Zandra. “I can see why.”

  “So,” said Cason, rubbing Fiyero’s hips diagnostically. “Tell me about yourself.”

  Zandra kept quiet, letting him do his whispering ritual or whatever it was.

  After a few seconds, Cason looked up at her expectantly.

  “Wait, me? Or you want me to tell you about the pups?”

  “You,” said Cason.

  He wasn’t flirting was he? She hadn’t been this nervous around a guy since Emmett had scheduled the appointment, but Zandra had given details about the problem to the secretary at Canis Amare. Besides, the glittering rock on her ring finger was hard to miss, but did guys notice things like that?

  “I’m married,” she said, not minding that it sounded like she was putting up a wall. Cason didn’t flinch, so he probably already knew that. Not flirting.

  “Emmett, right? Your husband?”

  “Yeah, four years now.”

  “What do you do to keep busy? Got kids, work, hobbies?”

  “Don’t you want to hear about the dogs?” She wasn’t uncomfortable answering his questions, just careful about casual relationships with men. Especially attractive ones. That had been the downfall of her parents’ marriage and she vowed she would never let that happen to her.

  “I’ll get that from them in a minute. Most of dog coaching is owner coaching, but a lot of people don’t like to hear that. They want me to fix the dog, not teach them how to have a better relationship with them. I have a friend who’s a child psychologist and it sounds like his sessions are exactly the same.”

  “Makes sense. No kids for me and Emmett yet. Within the next year or two I think. I just graduated from Wayne State in music composition.”

  “Go Warriors.”

  “Go Warriors,” said Zandra. “Actually, I’ve never been to a single Wayne State athletic event.”

  “You’re still a Warrior, though. We all represent our alma maters, right?” He continued to give Fiyero a thorough physical exam.

  “Musical Warrior? Sure, I guess.”

  “You work?”

  “Planning to start a business soon. And I tinker with writing some theater.”

  “That’s awesome,” said Cason. “I’m as tone deaf as a Mastiff. And I’m lucky enough to get to tinker with amazing creatures like these two all day. I’m the cool uncle who comes in and teaches the kid the importance of cleaning his room or eating vegetables.”

  “Yeah, but you can’t spoil them.”

  “You’re right, Zandra. You’re way more astute than most of my clients. I mean, clients’ owners. Spoiling the dogs causes unhappiness. I only get called when there are serious problems.” His face twisted slightly as if concerned as he went face to face with Fiyero. “I hope I can help you figure this out, my friend.”

  Just as he was finishing his sentence, Fiyero’s tongue darted out and went into Cason’s mouth. Fiyero was the most ponderous dog on the planet—with exception of that tongue.

  “Gotcha,” said Zandra, only halfway trying to suppress her laugh. “He’s like a ninja with that tongue. I can’t tell you how many times he’s succeeded in giving me a French kiss.”

  Cason spit ineffectively on the ground. “I’m no doggie virgin lips.”

  As soon as he stood up and gave Fiyero an inch, Elfie rushed over and checked out her son from nose to tail.

  Cason patted her back and said, “You worry about him, don’t you? Some mothers drive their young away, but you are still all mommy, aren’t you.” He gave her a second to content herself with Fiyero’s condition. She turned to him and licked his hand when she was done. “Can I see how you’re doing?” he asked, bending to look her in the face, then moving down her sleek body, paying particular attention to elbows, ankles, and hips. It didn’t take as long as the inspection of Fiyero had.

  “Where do these guys hang out most of the day?” asked Cason, standing to face Zandra again. He was built a little like the Mastiffs. Not as bulky, but with understated muscles that could move or work when needed. “What’s the natural habitat of the domesticated Bordeauxdog?”

  Impressive. He knew one of the lesser-known names for the breed.

  The dogs split their time between the backyard, the garage, and the dog room, but Zandra wasn’t sure she wanted to invite a hot young guy like Cason in. If only he’d been old, ugly, or female.

  “Backyard and garage, mostly,” she said. “And the woods around the place.”

  Cason spread his arms to include both dogs and told them, “Mind showing me the place?”

  Both dogs rose in comprehension and moved through the garage toward the back door. Fiyero’s tail beat a loud bass rhythm against the Avalanche as he walked by. As soon as the dogs made it out the back door they turned to see if they were going the right way and completely blocked the exit.

  “Quite the impasse,” said Cason, looking back and forth between the dogs. Zandra raised her arm to shoo them out of the way, but he said, “They’re fine. I want to check out their natural behavior.”

  “Gosh, habit,” said Zandra. “I guess if anyone can take care of himself with these gentle giants, it’s you.”

  After just a few seconds, Elfie chuffed and Fiyero started to fidget back and forth on his front legs. But they still filled the doorway.

  Cason continued to monitor them. Fiyero whined and Elfie nipped at him, which made him whine louder, not in pain, but in frustration like a three-year old in timeout. On an unseen cue, Fiyero took off running with Elfie nipping playfully at his heels. It was a routine they went through nearly every time Zandra came outside with them, and didn’t change this time as she chased him in circles around the lawn.

  “Talk about a helicopter mom,” said Cason.

  “When he was really young, she picked on him a bit, but once it was clear he wasn’t going anywhere, she made him her whole life.”

  “I bet she picked on the rest of the litter, too. One by one?”

  “Yeah. And when we sold the picked-on one, she’d start on a different one.”

  “It’s nature,” said Cason. “To prevent inbreeding, the mom drives the babies away.”

  For a few more minutes they watched as the dogs finished their circles then came back to the humans for some attention. Cason petted both of them for a minute and as soon as he was done they moseyed a few feet away and collapsed onto the ground, Fiyero in the shade and Elfie in the sun.

  “Thanks for letting me observe,” said Cason. “That’s always helpful before hearing what the owner’s observations are. So, what’s going on with them?”

  “Poor Fiyero has those wounds that we just can’t get healed.”

  “You’ve taken him to the vet?”

  “Yeah, he had two wounds, one was a cut and one was a lick wound. They stitched one and wrapped the wounds to give them a chance to heal, but no bandage could last an hour unsupervised. He can’t stand them. Next they tried the dreaded cone. Fiyero has always been, to put it kindly, a klutz, but with the cone on he was an uncoordinated toddler. Broke literally everything in our house that wasn’t heavier than him.”

  Cason was nodding along, listening intently. “But Fiyero’s mouth wasn’t the only problem mouth, was it?”

  Zandra took a step away, joining Fiyero in the shade. “Exactly. Elfie helped get the bandages off and now I catch her licking his wounds almost every day.”

  Cason rubbed his jaw for a second, but kept his eyes intent on Zandra. He was giving it all the concentration he could muster, like he was trying to figure out how to stop a giant asteroid from colliding with the Earth. It knocked Zandra off guard and he spoke into her pause.

  “Not to state the obvious, but in nature, licking a wound can clean a lot of the garbage out of it to let it heal naturally. Once it changes from
survival behavior to an obsessive behavior, it can be almost impossible to stop it. What else have you tried?”

  “Distracting toys just seemed to make them enjoy licking more. For a solid week I set a timer and came out to interrupt them every five minutes. At night, or if I had to leave the house I separated them and put his cone on. The dogs were miserable being apart, but we had to try it. After seven days we got one blessed ankle healed completely and the other elbow was almost there. I separated them again at night, but when I came out in the morning, Elfie had busted through the barrier. Both wounds were open and as bad as ever.”

  Zandra had slunk to the ground next to Fiyero when she’d discovered the backtracking, and bawled her eyes out. She had no idea how long she had sat there on the floor with him, petting him and crying tears that she’d wished could be healing tears. Through the tears she saw something even more heart-wrenching: a third wound had appeared on one of the joints of a back leg.

  Just thinking about that day put her on the verge of losing it again.

  Zandra blew out a slow breath and dabbed the corner of her eyes. Cason didn’t need to know about every tear. “Elfie gave me this guilty look and got up and with her head lowered, she dragged herself back to her side of the garage.” Zandra had called her back and loved on both of them for at least an hour.

  Cason had been staring at her unflinchingly for the whole account. “Is there anything you haven’t tried?”

  “I tried praying.” Zandra swallowed. “When that didn’t work it was as disappointing as the healed wounds busting open again.” Crying and all.

  “It’s hard to tell if it’s rejection or redirection when prayers don’t work.”

  For Zandra it definitely felt like rejection. She never asked for much—a happy marriage, healthy dogs, and a bestselling Broadway show to spring spontaneously from her fountain pen. Two out of three would make her the happiest person ever. At this point, one out of three would be a good start.

  “Sorry,” said Cason. “I’m a dog coach, not clergy.”

  “It’s alright,” said Zandra. “It’s hard to imagine now, but maybe someday I’ll see His wisdom in all this.” She seriously doubted it.

  “Any other thoughts on Fiyero and Elfie?”

  “It’s more than just the wounds now. He’s not as energetic as he used to be and I think he’s losing weight.”

  “I was afraid of that,” said Cason.

  “Just, help him. Please. We called for backup and you guys are the best around. If I could spend every minute with them, I know he’d get better. I freaking love their guts, but I just can’t do that. If they were human children, yeah, I’d do anything.” Her next words would probably offend him since dog types often thought of pets on par with humans, but that didn’t make sense to Zandra. “Sorry, but they’re dogs. I can do a lot—have done a lot. But they’re dogs, not people.” She looked down at Elfie who was sunning herself spread eagle in the sun.

  “I’m glad you understand that,” said Cason.

  “Wh-huh?”

  “Canis familiaris is not homo sapiens and neither is orcinus orca.”

  “Killer whales?” What did they have to do with anything?

  “Yeah. We’re all different species. When you dress up your dog or cat, he doesn’t think it’s cute or fun. Depending on the animal it could be merely annoying or it could cause extreme anxiety about inhibiting their survival capabilities. We don’t do other species any favors when we pretend they’re homo sapiens.”

  That made a lot of sense, although it was fun to anthropomorphize animals of any species.

  “What was the vet’s conclusion about the origins of the wounds that didn’t come from a cut?”

  “Lesions.”

  Cason nodded. “Nice broad word.”

  “I was worried it was cancer, but the vet said some dogs are prone to getting lesions like these. These two could be the only two he ever gets, or he could get a new one every month for the rest of his life.”

  Cason nodded. “This isn’t what you want to hear, but I don’t know if I can fix the problem.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I’ll give it some thought, and I’ll do the research and talk to the other coaches, but I can’t guarantee success at this point. There is …” he paused to consider his words, “I can’t help but feel there are issues much deeper than skin deep and bigger than either you or me.”

  As that sunk in, Cason went over to the dogs and stood between them. “Thank you, my lady, and, you sir have been a perfect gentleman. I’ll ask you both not to lick those wounds, but I realize it’s beyond your control.”

  Cason came forward and shook Zandra’s hand. She pulled her hand away quickly and petted Fiyero with it to remove the traces of his soothing touch.

  He said, “Thanks so much for letting me into your lives. If there is anything that can be done, we’ll do it.”

  The if in the statement stuck out as starkly as Fiyero’s wounds. With one more scritch for the dogs, he went through the garage, got in his truck, and drove away.

  Zandra pulled out her phone and composed a text to Emmett: This guy REALLY got our dogs. But he’s not sure anything can be done. Thanks again for the idea. You’re so good to me! Always focus on the positive, even if it’s not completely true. After selecting a spattering of appropriate emojis, she hit send, then realized he was in meetings. In his office. That phrase still stuck out to her.

  Where else would he be in meetings? And why would he specify that? It wouldn’t leave her alone. Was it just nagging jealousy of his work and the hours he spent there? Or was this the ‘gentle whisper’ Pastor Jack had talked about on Sunday? The voice of the Lord wasn’t in the earthquake or a whirlwind; it had come afterward in a gentle whisper. Other translations of the Bible called it a still, small voice, a gentle blowing, or soft, gentle voice.

  If it had to be words or an actual voice she could hear, maybe this wasn’t it. But those words in my office kept playing over again in a sort of silent whisper she couldn’t ignore.

  Did the Lord still talk to people the same way he talked to Elijah on the mountain? And if He did, why was He talking to her? And why now, with this, when He’d ignored every supplication over the last few months?

  “Let’s find out,” said Zandra, barely eliciting a glance in her direction from the dogs.

  She opened the location app on her phone that let her and Emmett see where each other was at anytime. Sure enough, in his office.

  Of course he was. Why wouldn’t he be? It’s not like today was any different than most days. He worked a lot. He was in meetings a lot. He visited a lot of houses. He made a lot of money, especially for a young guy who had only been in the industry half a dozen years. And he was really good at what he did.

  There was a reason why Cornerstone Countertops was getting so much of the high-end new construction and remodeling business in the Birmingham area.

  In my office. That whisper came again.

  Once, she could brush aside.

  Twice, she could make up a hundred reasons why she had doubts.

  But three distinct times, that she couldn’t ignore.

  It wasn’t her imagination—things were different than they had been as newlyweds. But they couldn’t be expected to stay the same forever.

  Was it all the hours he spent at work? The fact that he wasn’t as open as he had been or interested in her life? Was it the fact that she had brought up having kids and he had practically run away from the idea … more than once? He wanted to enjoy life, to live life before taking on that responsibility. But he would be a freaking amazing father. She couldn’t wait for it to happen.

  The changes were probably just natural for a married couple, especially considering the amount of time he spent at work.

  “What do you think, Elfie? Is that it?”

  This time Elfie turned her head and looked at Zandra as if she had something insightful to say, but would only tell her telepathically.

  “Y
ou’re right,” said Zandra, “it’s silly of me to sit here and complain about never seeing him. Let’s go see him.” She stepped out of their way, then said, “Get in the truck.”

  Those four words never failed to send them up and running more quickly than their stocky build let on they could.

  2

  As Zandra drove to Emmett’s office, she couldn’t help wonder if she was making a mistake.

  “No,” she told herself. “You made your decision, now stick to it. It’s a good decision. An amazingly inspired decision, girl.”

  She tuned her satellite radio to the Broadway station to kill the time for the ten minutes it took to get to his office. Zandra angled into a parking space in front of the shop then realized she hadn’t thought to glance in the back for his truck where he always parked it.

  With such beautiful early summer weather, there was no need to have the shell on her vehicle, so the dogs were able to stick their heads over and drool onto the pavement to their hearts’ content. Emmett had built a frame that fit into the bed that basically extended the walls up to the dogs’ necks, because otherwise the bed was too shallow and a sharp curve could send them toppling overboard.

  “I’ll be back in five minutes, pups. Take it easy here until I get back.”

  Zandra set some bells jingling as she pushed open the door of the showroom. The sight of the stone countertops Emmett had on display gave her chills every time. The man was an artist and marble and granite were his media. No cutting and pasting random slabs of mountain for him. When Emmett finished a piece, it was as if he had drawn it out and cast it in the shape and the design it was meant to be. There were no unsightly seams. The most beautiful, remarkable aspect of each piece was always displayed front and center on a peninsula or most noticeable part of an island. The far corners and backsplash was where he tucked the more plain pieces, casting their basic appearance on the piece as a whole and really making the gorgeous bits stand out even more.