“I’m glad I didn’t mislead you,” Anna said. “But I feel foolish for believing we might work with dogs and their partners.”
“You’re not a fool,” Emmi said. “You’re a dreamer, and it’s one of the things I admire most about you.”
Anna smiled, despite the disillusionment about her duties. “I want to introduce you to Nia.”
“We need to get to work,” Emmi said.
Anna peeked through a window. “Fleck is smoking a cigarette. We arrived early, so we have some extra time.”
“I don’t know,” Emmi said tentatively. “We might get in trouble.”
“It will only take a second,” Anna said. “I want you to have a look at her so you can give some thought to how we should care for her paws.”
Emmi glanced to the window.
“Please,” Anna said.
“Okay,” Emmi said.
They entered Nia’s pen and kneeled beside the dog. Near her head was gnawed bits of bread and potato.
Nia slowly opened her eyelids. She attempted to stand but whimpered and flopped onto her belly with her chin pressed to the ground.
Anna stroked the dog’s back. “It’s okay, Nia. This is Emmi. She’s going to help me take care of you.” She gently lifted the dog’s front right paw.
Emmi grimaced. “Damn trenches.” She stroked Nia’s head, and then examined the remaining paws, all of which were inflamed with redness and blisters between the pads.
Anna kissed Nia on the head and whispered, “We’ll be back to feed and care for you soon.” Despite her heart telling her to stay, she forced herself to go about their duties.
For the next hour, Anna and Emmi accompanied dogs to do their business. She presumed that Fleck required that dogs be taken individually, similar to the daily experience they would encounter when they were partnered with a blind veteran. Working together at the hospital was beneficial, Anna believed, as they alternated turns pumping water and carrying buckets of water to fill bowls. They used the same tandem approach for feeding the dogs. The food in the bins was chopped turnips, similar to feed for cattle. And given a burlap sack of whole turnips which sat next to a butcher block and tarnished cleaver knife, Anna assumed that making dog food would soon be added to her list of duties.
Regardless of her disappointment of being confined to canine care and nursing duties, she wouldn’t have changed her mind about working here, even if she had known the full scope of the role. The shepherds were sweet and affectionate, as well as incredibly intelligent, given they waited for permission to eat, leave their pen, and go potty. Their coats were thick and soft, and the manner in which they panted with a protruding tongue was simply adorable. It took a concerted effort for Anna not to give in to her urge to hug the shepherds. Also, all of the dogs were female, which Anna and Emmi had deduced from escorting the dogs to do their business.
By the time the trainers arrived for work, each of the dogs were fed, cared for, and wearing their harness, except for Nia, who was curled on the floor of her pen. After a brief introduction by Fleck, who called Emmi “Emilie,” the trainers took a group of dogs to the obstacle course. Before Anna and Emmi embarked on picking up dog piles and cleaning pens, they tended to Nia.
“Her paws are bad,” Emmi said, kneeling beside Nia. “Especially her front, right paw.”
Anna rubbed Nia’s head. “What do you think we should do?”
Emmi pointed. “The ground in this barn is damp. It’ll make it difficult for her paws to heal.”
“Straw?”
“It’ll help, but what she needs is a dry, warm place to sleep.”
Anna envisioned smuggling her home, and quickly buried her thought.
“Let’s clean and dry her paws,” Emmi said.
Anna retrieved water and antiseptic. Together they cleaned Nia’s paws, and then dried them using a few of Norbie’s old handkerchiefs that Anna had stashed in her purse. Afterward, they gave her food and water, but Nia only nibbled a bit of turnip.
“Try to drink, Nia,” Anna said, cupping a handful of water to the dog’s mouth.
Nia lapped water, and then lowered her head.
For the rest of the day, Anna and Emmi cleaned pens, picked up dog piles, shuttled shepherds to trainers, chopped turnips into dog meal, and made a homemade salve from remnants of a beeswax candle, which Anna applied to a shepherd with a bleeding elbow callus. Between her duties, Anna tended Nia. She managed to get a bit of food into Nia’s belly by mashing turnips into a paste, which was easier for her to swallow while lying on her side. Twice, Nia had attempted to stand, but she yelped and flopped to the ground.
“I wish I could take you home with me,” Anna said, caressing Nia’s head.
