Read Online Dog Medicine by Julie Barton - Free Book Online

to get a dog. If Will wouldn’t love me, I reasoned, a dog might. Our building allowed dogs and the landlord seemed unfazed by the question. Leah had reluctantly agreed that if the dog was my responsibility, we could get one. We’d already gotten a small gray rabbit—but she bit and didn’t have a single readable emotion. I bought a leash for her and took her out to East 82nd Street. She froze in fear and then crapped on the sidewalk.
    Leah was away for the weekend when I walked up to the animal shelter on Second Avenue, praying I’d find comfort in a dog the way I had as a child. I opened the door to the shelter and introduced myself to the woman at the counter, expressing my interest in adopting a dog. She was Latina with beautiful skin and a kind smile. She handed me a form to fill out, and we chatted politely as I wrote down my address, place of employment, and living situation. “I’ve always had a dog.” I said. “ Always. It just feels so strange not having one right now.”
    She nodded deeply. “I know!” she said. “Walking into a house where there’s no little wagging tail to greet you just feels plain wrong. I have three.” I nodded and laughed, tears brimming. The last thing I wanted was to cry here, now, so I pretended to sneeze and closed my eyes, then wiped them with a tissue.
    I handed her the form and she looked it over. “Great,” she said, scanning the information. “You work full time?” She looked concerned.
    â€œWell, I work from home a day or two a week.” Total lie. “I’m a writer so I work out of my apartment a lot.” Another total lie.
    She smiled at me. “Jealous!” she said, laughing. “Geez, lucky you. Do you have any other pets currently?”
    â€œNo,” I said, shaking my head, completely, honestly forgetting about the rabbit.
    â€œWell, looks great. Come on back. Let’s look at some of these dogs.” She asked what size dog I wanted and I indicated that I usually liked bigger dogs. “With your handling experience, we could probably match you with one of our big guys. Oh! I know! I have the perfect big girl for you.” I stood blissed out by her confidence in me and shoved my hands in my pockets in an attempt to not appear weirdly enthusiastic.
    She sent me to the space where they introduce dogs to potential owners. The room was all concrete, the floor painted purple, the walls a vivid orange. A heavyset trainer with short hair and royal-blue clogs entered and introduced herself as Rita. She told me a bit about a dog they thought might be good for me. “She’s a total goofy love,” she said. “She’s not at all aggressive, has some basic obedience training, and just needs a bit more time and a good home.” I sat there thinking,
She just needs a good home. She just needs love. I can give her love.
    My front-desk friend opened the door and in came an enormous gray dog that looked to be part mastiff, part bulldog. I felt no immediate connection but was so happy when the dog came to sniff me, her tail twirling. I cooed, smiled, laughed, and let her lick my cheek before saying I’d take her. I quickly signed the papers, coughed up a hundred bucks and was soon walking down Second Avenue behind my new ninety-five-pound dog.
    At my apartment door, I struggled with the lock as the dog yanked on the leash. I pulled her into the entryway, already worried that this was a mistake. It felt like I was walking a pony into my 750-square-foot apartment. When the door to the place swungopen, the leash went taut as the dog lunged straight at the rabbit’s cage. She started barking madly, drooling, clawing the hardwood floor. I dragged the dog downstairs to the bedroom and tried to calm her. She continued to lunge for the stairs but eventually became interested in the scents on the pile of dirty clothes on my bedroom floor. She walked to my bed and jumped up,