Love Is Pink!

After searching for ages, I finally found the building where we’d left David. I guessed it was way after four but couldn’t say for sure without my Cartier. I decided to get myself one of those cheap “Made in Taiwan” digital watches the next chance I got—I needed at least an approximate idea of the time.

I found an empty parking space on the opposite side of the street from the building. I waited until traffic gave way, made a U-turn, and took it.

“Papa’s going to be so pleased,” Emma said. “I’m going to give him the cookies right away.”

“Do! Men are always hungry after stressful business negotiations.”

We got out of the Citro?n. Emma had the little bag of cookies in her hand.

“Stay close to the car,” I said. “There’s a lot of traffic. It’s dangerous.”

“Where is he?” Emma asked impatiently. She looked above the hood of the car, toward the entrance of the building.

“He’ll be here soon,” I said, and bent toward Baby, who was happily wagging his tail in front of me. “You want your new handsome leash, don’t you? Every self-respecting dog wears genuine leather.”

Over the sound of traffic, I heard a voice calling my name. I stood up. David was waving from the other side of the street, holding a package under his arm.

Then things happened quickly. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a small shape move into the street. Emma. She was running right across the road. A big truck was just a few meters away from her. With all the snow and ice, the driver wouldn’t be able to brake in time.

“Emma!” I screamed.

Baby catapulted forward, ripping the leash out of my hand. He rushed across the street and jumped through the air. His front paws pushed against Emma’s back. She flew onto a pile of snow at the edge of the road, and David, who’d rushed toward her, was able to scoop her up almost instantly. Then came a muffled crack and a loud cry, as the truck’s bumper crashed into Baby’s flank.

I ran to them. Emma clung to David’s neck. They were both shaking and as pale as ghosts. Baby lay whimpering on the ground. Blood seeped out of a nasty wound. His right hind leg seemed somewhat crooked.

The truck had stopped. Its door opened and the driver looked toward us. He climbed out and went straight to David and Emma. He looked at the wounded dog remorsefully and spoke to David in French. David shook his head after responding briefly.

“Tell him he couldn’t have avoided it,” I said. “And is Emma all right?”

“Yeah,” David said hoarsely. “That was close. But what about Baby?”

I knelt down next to the poor, shivering animal. Resting a hand on his head, I said, “He needs a doctor immediately.”





26


While David drove us around the city, frantically looking for a veterinarian, I sat in the back with Baby, his head on my lap. I petted him steadily, and he whimpered softly, heartbreakingly. David had to stop five or six times to ask pedestrians for directions. I worried we were taking too long.

Emma sat up front with her father. Uncharacteristically, she didn’t speak a single word. Now and then I heard her sniffle and repress sobs.

David accelerated. “I can see the office. Hang in there!” The Citro?n had barely stopped when he jumped out. His hasty steps crunched on the snow, and soon he was ringing the bell at the entrance to the practice. A man in a white coat came out. David exchanged a few words with him, and they both hurried to the car.

David opened the door. An old, bald-headed man put his head in and said, “Salut.”

I pushed the blanket back. Carefully, the doctor felt Baby’s hind legs, examined the open wound, and stroked the dog’s rib cage, uttering soothing, melodious words all the while. Baby didn’t protest the exam. His eyes were fixed on me the entire time.

After a bit, the vet spoke with David outside the car.

I waited as long as I could. “What is he saying?” I called when I couldn’t take it anymore.

“We need to take Baby into the clinic immediately. He needs to be treated at once.” David leaned into the car. “Try to push the blanket underneath him so he’s lying on it. Then we’ll pull him out with it and carry him that way.”

I began maneuvering the blanket. I tried to move Baby as little as possible, but I couldn’t avoid it altogether. Every time the dog whimpered, he licked my hand and cringed from the pain.

Finally, I got the material under his body. The doctor returned with his assistant, and the two of them and David grabbed the ends of the blanket, hauled it out of the Citro?n, and carried Baby into the building. Emma and I followed.

In the waiting room, a half-dozen pet owners sat with their charges.

They looked at the injured dog with compassion as he was carried past them.

“Bonsoir,” I said, trying to smile. I just couldn’t do it.

I turned to Emma. “I want you sit in this chair and wait. OK?”