They used to take those two ornery cats to the Moodyville Vet Clinic over on Route 101. It’s been a long time since the last one moved on to mouse hunt on a higher plane, and Ed wonders if the place is still there. This time, he thinks to call Alice and tell her he’s going to be late for lunch.

“Well, we probably should get him checked out anyway. See if you can get squeezed in today. If not, I can take him, as long as you can make an appointment that isn’t on my day at the library.”

“Do you want me to pick you up?” Ed holds the cell phone tight against his cheek. He still doesn’t believe that you don’t have to shout into them. “There’s no way I’m going to remember your schedule.”

There is no hesitation in Alice’s reply. “Yes.”

By the time Ed pulls into the driveway, Alice has called ahead to the clinic and gotten an appointment, which she knows will please Ed, who hates to wait for anything. Fortunately for them, there was a cancellation. Buddy is relegated to the backseat as Alice takes her place in front. He rests his chin on the seat back, suggesting that there is room for him between them. When neither of the people invite him to move up front, he settles into the left-hand seat to watch the scenery go by.

The Moodyville Veterinary Clinic is a much different place from the one where they used to take the cats. The boxy cedar-shingled building with the two chain-link runs outside has evolved into an architecturally designed animal hospital with tended gardens, and if there are runs, they are well hidden behind a flourishing boxwood hedge. The practice has clearly grown, and now there are four vets on staff instead of just old Doc Creighton, whose family has been so long in this town that there’s a road named for them. Creighton’s name is still on the masthead, along with those of his daughter and two others.

A staffer hands them a clipboard with a form on it. “Do you have insurance?”

Ed wonders if he’s accidentally brought the dog to a people clinic. “Insurance?” His question is lost as the staffer grabs a ringing phone. Since when is there health insurance for animals? Is this in Obama’s health-care package? Is that why people are so bent out of shape? Alice takes the clipboard and checks off “No” to that question.

They really don’t know anything about him, and it shows. The form is mostly empty except for their names and contact info. Name: Buddy. Breed: Shetland sheepdog? Age: unknown. Last vaccination: unknown. Any health problems? unknown. Microchipped? Alice looks up from the form and points to that question. “What if he is?”

“Then we find out who he belongs to.” Ed takes the clipboard from Alice.