V

      

     Taking inventory and stocking the medicines usually calmed Gabe, but he couldn't stop thinking about last Sunday, how embarrassed he felt after what everybody at the church was calling a "spiritual awakening moment." He fiddled with the heartworm medication and moved it to the right of the flea and tick pills, then back again, wondering if he should take the picture on the box into consideration for sorting order or if alphabetical was good enough. He wiped a stray bead of sweat off of his forehead and readjusted his glasses, almost knocking them to the floor when he heard her voice.

      Gabe crept around the polished oak desk toward the hallway where he could hear Dr. Alvus explaining something beyond Gabe's experiences with pet illness. He paused just out of sight of the examination room, tilting his head to hear the conversation.

      "So, most likely, at some point when Bishop was cleaning himself, he ingested a small amount of a parasitic organism that lives in the fecal matter of animals," Dr. Alvus said as Tilly stroked the deep bluish fur of the French Bulldog, who seemed to be content lying on the beige carpet floor by Tilly's feet. "These coccidia, the parasites, multiply in the intestine and destroy cells as they mature , infecting even more cells which cause the diarrhea and fatigue you described. I'm really surprised that you didn't come see me earlier, Tilly, but at this stage of the disease we need to get Bishop on a high dose of Sulfadimethoxine to prevent it from becoming fatal."

      Tilly's bright red nails stopped their rhythmic motion and she placed her palm onto Bishop's fluffy, puppy coat. "Ok," she said. "But how much will this cost?" She twirled a finger around Bishop's ear, and gingerly bit her bottom lip. "I mean, I don't even have insurance for myself, which is why I waited so long to come in. Will this be expensive?"

      Gabe leaned closer to the doorway, his heart beating rapidly.

      "I'm afraid that we don't have many options at this time," Dr. Alvus said. "But, I would recommend putting him on a regimen of liquid Albon, a sort of custard that makes the medicine more palatable to sicker animals who might have trouble taking a pill. This drug is about eighty dollars a bottle, but the sooner we get him started on it, the better."

      Bishop stood up and shook himself out, small bits of dander floating away in a halo from his tiny body. Tilly stood up with him. "I'm sorry, I can't do this." She grabbed her purse and started walking out of the room. "I'm already late on rent, I just can't." Her high heels clicked as she walked, even on the carpeted floor.

      Gabe ran back down the hallway to the medicine shelf in the back, not wanting Tilly to know that he'd heard everything she'd just talked about. His slacks zipped together with each step, the friction growing between his thighs with each awkward step, irritating the rash that persisted from last week. He rounded the oak desk, clipping the edge with his hip, almost falling into the freshly stocked shelves. As he braced himself, panting against the shelf, he saw a bottle of Albon. The dog's face on the bottle glared at him, then turned its head away.

      "You shouldn't even have to think about this," the rottweiler said, licking its brown jowels. "I won't tell you what you know you have to do."

      He picked up the bottle and turned it, trying to look the dog in the face. "Don't tell me what to do," Gabe said. "You're not the one that could get fired for stealing perscription drugs. People have gone to jail for that, right?" He shook the bottle, the liquid sloshing violoently around inside. The dog didn't seem to mind.

      "I figured that's how you'd react, the way you are in here. Always arranging the shelves just so. You're just a p***y, aren't you? Can't make your own decisions for anything, always leaving it up to somebody else. Worthless."

      Gabe shoved the bottle into his left pocket, hoping to quiet the rude dog. "Yeah, I'll show you who's a -- what you called me. We're going to have to talk about your filthy mouth, too." He grabbed his coat and walked out to the lobby where Dr. Alvus was now talking to a woman cradling a plastic case with a network of tubes and a hamster or gerbil. Gabe never could tell the difference.

      "I'm going to lunch," Gabe said, reaching under his coat to shift the bulky parcel in his pocket. He stopped in front of the door, partially opened, and said, "Actually, I finished taking inventory so do you mind if I take the rest of the day off?"

      The lady with the gerbil or hamster shook her head and caressed the plastic prison. Dr. Alvus massaged his forehead with his index finger and thumb, pronouncing the lines even more than they already were. "Sure, Gabe. Do what you have to do."

      Gabe pushed through the open door, his left hand firmly on the glass bottle in his pocket, hoping the rottweiler wouldn't choose to speak up until he got outside and out of earshot from the doctor.