The Dogs Were Rescued (And So Was I) by Teresa J. Rhyne Read Free Book Online Page B

is only for two weeks.”
    I looked up. “But what if—”
    “He won’t.”
    “But—”
    “He won’t.” Chris reached over and held my hand.
    I had less than twenty-four hours to decide if I was getting on the plane, and I still didn’t feel like I’d made a final decision when Chris took me to the airport, with Seamus in his crate in the backseat. I’d spent much longer kissing and saying good-bye to Seamus than I spent with Chris, though I knew Chris understood. After dropping me off, Chris took Seamus to his appointment, not far from Los Angeles International Airport.
    For two hours I sat in the terminal, waiting for my flight to Amsterdam and then on to Delhi, wondering if I was really going to board the plane. I’d gone back and forth on whether I even wanted the call to come. Would it mean bad or good news if the call came this soon?
    It didn’t matter what I decided. As my plane was boarding, my phone rang. I stepped out of line to answer the phone.
    “Hi.”
    “Hi,” Chris said. I could tell nothing from his voice, though I was trying to read everything into it. “The good news is Seamus will be here when you get back. But there is bad news.”
    I’m not getting on the plane . I moved to an empty seat in the terminal and sat, heavy in heart and body.
    This cancer was supposed to have been gone. It wasn’t supposed to have metastasized. That only happens in five percent of the cases. Five lousy percent . We’d beaten odds far worse than that.
    “Seamus will be here when you get back. But it is cancer. It’s spread to his lungs.” I could hear Chris inhale. “They said stage four. Unfortunately, it is terminal.”
    “I can’t believe this. I just can’t believe it.”
    “I know. I feel the same way. They said he has two to four months. We can try chemotherapy, and that may give him six months, if it works. It doesn’t work on all dogs.”
    When devastating news is heard, there is a moment where the brain pushes back, protects the heart by refusing to believe it, by grasping at hope, by denying, by closing. But that moment ends and the heart is defenseless.
    I slumped down in my chair. “Only two months?”
    “Two to four. But maybe six months. And this is Seamus—he’s beaten the odds before.”
    “He was younger then. And the odds weren’t this bad.”
    “I know, baby. I’m sorry.”
    “I’m supposed to be getting on the plane right now. They’re boarding. I can’t go. I can’t do this.”
    “You can go. You should go. I’ll be here with him. They can start the chemo today and that may shrink the tumor and make him more comfortable. He’ll be here when you get back. It’s only two weeks.”
    “How can I leave? I can’t leave him.”
    “You’re there. The group is expecting you. I promise I’ll take good care of da Moose.” Chris had many nicknames for Seamus, but “Moose” was a favorite. Normally it would have made me smile. But this time I was in too much shock. And the flight attendant was calling for my section to board the plane.
    This wasn’t just a vacation or it would have been easy to turn around and never board the plane. Friends and family had contributed to the cost of the trip—the birthday gift I’d asked for. There were people counting on me, people who supported me, and there were folks who had applied to go who weren’t selected. Not fulfilling my obligation didn’t seem right either.
    “I don’t know how I can enjoy the trip. I don’t know what to do.” I closed my eyes and dropped my head.
    “It’s your birthday. It’s your special trip. It’s paid for. And it’s only two weeks. Seamus will be here when you get back, I promise. He’s got months. And I’ll be here too. I’ll keep you updated every day. You should go. Get on the plane. I’ve got this.”
    “Oh god. I hate this.” I looked toward the plane. There were only a few people left to board.
    “Go ahead and go, baby. You just need to tell me if you want them to start his