Free The Gift of Pets: Stories Only a Vet Could Tell by Bruce R. Coston Page B

melt into joy when reunited with her healthy, tail-wagging dog or purring kitty. It is the knowledge that without your participation, this reunion would not have occurred. The kitty would not be purring and head-butting its owner; the wagging tail would be still.
    Having had previous experience working in a veterinary hospital in northern Virginia, Lisa had already cashed those emotional checks. And I could tell she wanted this job. She was also willing to start out doing the most menial of tasks associated with animal care. Best of all, she was willing to take the hourly wage I was able to pay her. Still, it was not without some reservations that I hired Lisa. She seemed unsettled somehow, with a dissatisfied and pessimistic approach to life. This dour outlook concerned me as I envisioned her dealing with my clients and staff. What influence would her attitude have on the interplay of the group? I well knew the negative impact one cynical, sour person could have. Lisa also seemed insecure in her mannerisms and interactions. I had worked with people in the past whose lack of self-esteem had made it difficult for them to assimilate into the mechanisms of a group. Would Lisa be able to make herself part of this team? It was a risk, but one I judged worth taking.
    For the first two or three weeks, Lisa came to work and performed her duties with efficiency, but she entertained very little interaction with us. She was quiet, unsure, and tentative when we attempted to draw her out. But it was clear from the start that she had a unique ability to connect with the animals. They adored her. Even the timid, fear-biting ones responded to her quiet influence—those who hovered near the back of the kennel with heads low and tails tucked. Never afraid of even the most aggressive patients, Lisa rapidly became the go-to person for handling the few truly difficult patients that came in. As time went on, her icy persona began to thaw and we began to learn a little about her background.
    She had a veritable menagerie of animals at her house, including two Border collies, which were her constant companions. Tillie, the alpha dog of her crew, had a very white face with piebald, soulful, and intelligent eyes. A few large patches of black, like island continents, floated on a sea of white fur. Unlike that of most dogs, Tillie’s tail, black and full, was not a harbinger of her emotions. She kept it still and straight behind her, a rudder in the serious waters she navigated.
    Life for Border collies is not what it is for Labradors, who are given to cavorting constantly in a state of never-ending celebration. Border collies are born and bred for work, with work in mind at all times. If they are not given a job of significance, they will often create one for themselves, which they will perform with unswerving devotion and dedicated attention. Such is the life of the typical Border collie.
    But Tillie was not a typical Border collie. She was a Border collie on steroids, with a work ethic that made Mother Teresa seem like a slacker. And her job was to follow Lisa’s every command. Her intense eyes never left Lisa’s face, searching earnestly for what Lisa might want from her, often sensing even before Lisa spoke that she might want her to sit or come or lie down. Even a nod or a change of Lisa’s facial expression spoke volumes to Tillie, who would respond immediately to the most subtle of cues.
    Grizzly was Tillie’s pup. And though he was two or three years old when I first met him, he remained an irresponsible, insolent adolescent compared to her. Grizzly was mostly dark, with hints of blue merle around his neck and in the blue iris of his left eye. You could look at Grizzly and know from his expressions and mannerisms that he had probably been up to trouble recently, but, like a scheming schoolboy, he was hard to pin down. One minute he would be haughty and glinty-eyed with mischief. The next, he would be ingratiating and compliant, desperately