Patrick, one of the shelter staff members, was the only other person in the shelter’s closet-size treatment room. He was holding Tater Tot still while Gabe used surgical scissors to cut through the remaining cast interior.

“Smells like a beast, doesn’t it?” Gabe directed the comment Patrick’s way.

A few deep creases appeared along Patrick’s forehead. “I can’t say. Beasts are fictional, and descriptions of them vary widely. If they were real, I assume they’d smell similar to their animal counterparts.” He gave the air over the dog a determined sniff. “Bacterial growth?”

Gabe choked down a chuckle. Since he started taking over Dr. Washington’s cases here at the shelter three or four months ago, he’d come to recognize Patrick as both the most literal and the most direct person he’d ever met. A bit peculiar or not, Patrick was also a master at keeping the animals still atop the table while causing them a minimal amount of distress—better than most vet techs at his office—and Gabe was happy to work with him.

“There’s a bit inside the cast, yeah. Some of the smell is just dog odor times six weeks of no fresh air,” Gabe answered. “But the scar’s healing nicely. No sign of infection.” Finished cutting away the foam-and-gauze interior, he peeled the last of the cast away from the dog’s leg. “Give it a couple weeks, Tater Tot, and all this will be a bad dream.” Now that she was free of the cast, Gabe ran his hands along Tater Tot’s leg and hip. The pins had set nicely.

He nodded at Patrick to loosen his hold, then stood back, leaving Patrick to guard over her. “It’s going to feel weird for a bit, but I’m betting she’ll walk without a limp.”

After holding her leg awkwardly to the side long enough that it grew heavy, Tater Tot gingerly balanced it underneath her without putting any weight on it. She turned to give Gabe a look that, along with her droopy lids, seemed to say, “What now?”

After dumping the cast, Gabe headed to the treat jar, grabbed a handful, and held one out at the end of the table. After a single sniff of the air, Tater Tot shuffled over. She held the leg to the side as she gobbled it up, but then seemed to forget about her discomfort as she sniffed the air and nuzzled his palm until he produced a few more. By the time she’d munched another two more, she was standing equally on all fours.

He nodded, more to himself than to Patrick. “I’ll watch you lead her for a bit, then you know the routine. Keep her kenneled today, increase her activity slowly, starting tomorrow. Call me Monday and let me know how she’s doing. I bet you’ll be able to clear her for adoption late next week.”