Thinking about Haydn was a lot better than thinking about her current situation. “Then why does he need the prosthetic?”
“Will you promise to eat if I explain it to you?” Brandon sounded more amused than annoyed to her. But then again, it was Brandon. If he was too irritated, he’d just leave. He never did anything he truly didn’t want to do.
She nodded solemnly.
He huffed out a laugh. Reaching across the bed to touch the edge nearest Haydn, he gave another quiet command. Haydn reared up and placed his good paw on the edge of the bed. His other front leg ended a couple of inches below the joint, the shorter fur covering most of the stump.
“Haydn has a partial amputation.” Brandon gently touched the place where Haydn’s leg ended. “If he was older and not as prone to the level of activity he’s been used to, then he might have been fine without a prosthetic. He can move along for short distances easily in a limited amount of time.”
Sophie tipped her head to one side. Haydn, watching her, mirrored her. She couldn’t help but smile. “He seems so energetic.”
“He is.” Brandon hesitated. “Haydn, af.”
The big dog returned to the floor. His fur was so dark, he looked truly black in the hospital room lighting.
“The amount of weight he’d put on his good leg was a big deciding factor. The more he tries to do, the more stress will be on the good front leg. The prosthetic will help in turning or moving from side to side.” Brandon tapped the tray.
Sophie picked up a spoon and started eating her Jell-O. He narrowed his eyes at her, so she widened hers in response. “What? There’re two servings. I can have one before and one after the standard stuff.”
He shook his head. “No matter what, it’s important to make sure the prosthetic is a good fit or he’d try not to use the leg. Then it’d be dead weight.”
“Huh.” She didn’t even worry about talking around a mouthful of sweet. “He can’t go back to active duty, though, right?”
“Correct.” Brandon’s expression went neutral, which was his version of sadness. “But he can still be active. He lives to work. He wants to work. This is the closest I’ve seen him to his old self since he came back to Hope’s Crossing, based on the videos they sent with him.”
“But he doesn’t have a forever home yet.” She ached for him. “Poor pup.”
“He is an adult working dog, Sophie.”
She wrinkled her nose at Brandon. “He’s lost probably the most important person in his world. And now, anyone he gets used to might be gone again in a few weeks. It’s really tough for animals.”
Her father would’ve said it was just a dog. But then, her father had spent most of his life in South Korea. Perspective on pets differed from culture to culture, and her opinions varied widely from her father’s in a whole lot of ways. Brandon was another example.
She and her father had never been in agreement about Brandon.
“You both must be tired, though.” Her thoughts were wandering down weird paths. The fatigue must be getting to her. Or the pain medication. “You two should go back to the kennels and get some rest.”
The tray moved away, and she realized she’d managed to eat half the meal. “Don’t eat my second Jell-O.”
The bed started to collapse slowly behind her, lowering her back to a reclining position without laying her flat. It was much more comfortable.
“It’s okay for you to rest, too.” Brandon’s voice came softly, right next to her ear.
She turned, found herself nose to nose with him. His eyes were still a deep green. “Why did you stay so long if you need to rest?”
“Because, Sophie,” he whispered, “you hate hospitals. I’d never leave you here alone when you hate being here.”
He remembered. But he was Brandon. He always remembered.
Chapter Four
Ready to go home?”
Sophie sat forward and immediately started to press buttons on the guardrail at the side of her hospital bed. “So ready! Tell me you brought pants.”
“We did not bring pants.” Lyn sounded way too cheerful about that.
“You’re kidding, right? I can’t wear the outfit I was wearing yesterday.” The clothes in question were folded neatly in a plastic bag and sitting on the one chair in the room. Her very cute shoes were tucked away under the same chair. She wasn’t going to be wearing those shoes any time soon, either; not with her right ankle and foot encased in a medical boot. “You know what? I don’t care. I’ll walk out of here with no pants on.”
She struggled harder with the guardrail.
Lyn sighed, gesturing to the wheelchair behind her in the hallway. “You mean roll out of here.”
Sophie didn’t even respond. She just started to wrestle with the damn thing, trying to lower it by brute force. Which she apparently didn’t have a whole hell of a lot of today.