I slowly walked him inside, confused and getting a little bit pissed. There was another dog in there, a mutt, and Pierre tried to pull toward him.

“I called about the paralyzed dog,” I said to the nurse at the counter.

We both looked down at Pierre just standing there.

“I don’t know why he’s better now.”

She smiled at me like she had seen this before—maybe all the time, even. She told me it happens, but I was too shocked to ask when. I just stared down at Pierre, who let out a little wag.

“Do you want to see the doctor still?”

“What if it happens again?”

“We won’t know what’s wrong with him unless we look at him.”

“We’re here,” I said.

She gave me forms to fill out, and Pierre ambled beside me as I sat down.

“What are you doing?” I asked him, and he just stared back at me.

“Evelyn?”

The doctor was balding and seemed nice enough. As we walked to a back room, I tried to explain that Pierre had just started walking again. That Daphne was dead. That I was an emergency contact ill-equipped to handle emergencies.

All he said in response was “Will you put him on the table?”

I picked the dog up and put him on the table, and the doctor looked at each paw.

“Did he step on something?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Which leg was in distress?”

“All of them. Or maybe just the back ones. I don’t know.”

“Was he dragging his paws at all?”

“I only just got him yesterday.”

“Right.”

He kept checking Pierre. His erection bloomed, and I was embarrassed for both of us.

“Not now,” I said.

“I can’t tell anything without an X-ray or an MRI. But it doesn’t seem like he has anything wrong with him.”

“I don’t think I can afford tests.”

“We might just have to express his anal glands. Sometimes that has an effect on them. Do you want to be in here for that?”

“No,” I said, shaking my head. “I really don’t.”

“I can get a nurse to hold him.”

Pierre peered at me. I turned and left the room anyway.

The doctor came out with Pierre and a bottle of pills.

“Painkillers,” he said. “In case his soreness comes back. Call if you need a refill.”

I took the bottle of pills from him, paid the bill of $120 with my credit card, and walked Pierre back to the car.

At home, I broke the pill apart like the doctor had told me and gave half to Pierre with a treat. He walked around the house like normal for a few minutes, and then wandered over to his bed before passing out.