Friday, 16 Feb 2018
2:21 am
Sixty-one year old Charles Carson finished his business with a little jiggle before tucking himself back into his boxer-briefs. After flushing the loo, he stepped to the sink and washed his hands. The backlit clock face on the small shelf above the vanity caught his eye and told him the night was not even halfway over. With that, he shook his head and sighed while reaching for the hand towel. Overnight sleep interruptions were regular occurrences anymore.

According to a follow up test after his latest annual, his enlarged prostate was the most recent culprit. Returning to the moonlit bedroom, his eyes found the silhouette of a second, semi-recent one: the Scottish lass who had moved in with him full-time some 17 months ago along with her few, though treasured, possessions.

In the less than two minutes he had been gone from bed, he realized she had managed to uncoil herself from the crescent arc she had been sleeping in beforehand and twist onto her back, left forearm covering her eyes. He surmised by her soft cries and twitching leg hanging over the edge of the bed that she was dreaming. Were he not so tired, he would have watched her a little longer but morning was coming and with it another doctor's appointment, this one for her. Hoping not to wake her, Charles attempted to tiptoe to the bed as quietly as his 18 stone frame would allow. He was almost there when his right foot left the wood floor and came down on what he at first thought was the edge of the area rug that ringed the perimeter of the bed. But the feeling of moistness under his toes told him it was instead her favorite chew toy.

"Bugger," he muttered as he lifted his foot and crawled back under the duvet.

3:15 am
"Wha?" On the cusp of the deep sleep his body needed badly, Charles was jolted awake again, this time by barking below and to the left of his ear. Stretching out his arm and fingers in a searching motion, the barking stilled under Charles's familiar touch. "Okay, it's okay" his deep timbre, deeper still from sleep, was spoken out of instinct to reassure the elderly Scottish Terrier. "Just give me a moment. Please."

Lifting his neck and one shoulder off the mattress, Charles searched out his phone on the nightstand and read the time. "Oh, bloody hell."

Collapsing down again, Charles rolled onto his back and pressed the bases of his palms into his eyes. "Oh, bloody, bloody hell," he muttered. He sucked in a big breath of air before flailing his arms down to his sides in resignation and opening his eyes wide. Then, reaching over his torso with his right arm, he swiped the duvet off his body and in the same motion attempted to swing his feet over the edge of the bed. The duvet, however, was tangled up in his feet and he had to kick a few different ways to free them before being able to sit up.

Hearing the beginning rumble of another bark forming, Charles lunged for the dog's head to keep the bark from escaping. "Okay, okay, almost there." Charles stepped around the dog to his Valet Stand and fetched the corduroy trousers and flannel button-up he had hung on it when he'd gone to bed for the night.

First donning the trousers and then the shirt, Charles was buttoning from the top down when he explained softly, "Okay M'Lady, okay. Almost there and then we can go outside for a tinkle."

Shirttails untucked and hair rumpled, as much as the unkempt look was unbecoming, it was the middle of the night and the past few had taught him that he - they - were in a race against time to get outside. As he slid his second foot into its shoe, Charles was much more awake than even a minute ago. Clicking his tongue as he patted her ribs, Charles encouraged the dog toward the front door. He tucked into the butler's pantry to grab his key ring and jacket as well as her leash. Then as he turned the front door handle with one hand, he fastened the leash onto the dog's collar with the other. Stepping into the hallway, he let the door shut behind him and walked swiftly to the lift. He watched the numbers rise with some degree of anxiety; it was here approximately 48 hours ago when she wet the floor and Charles had to reverse course and clean up after her right there. This time the doors opened without any incident. Normally, she would sit at his side in the elevator but as she remained standing he simply took it as a sign that the lift best be swift to make it downstairs before there was another accident.

Miraculously, the doors opened and Charles dashed out and over to the service door. In fact, he was moving faster than she was prepared for and he felt the leash grow taut. Pushing the swing door open, he gave the leash another little tug to coax her in his direction. Furry little legs scurried past his own and into the cold night air. He realized immediately he should have also grabbed his gloves - and a bag - but had forgotten both in his rushing around upstairs.

The door had no sooner slammed behind them than Charles saw the dog squat down to relieve herself on the grass. "Thank God," Charles thought before praising her with, "That's my good girl. Well done." And yet as badly as she had evidently needed to urinate, Charles didn't think she did so very much. "I am glad we're going to see Dr. Mason in the morning, m'Lady. Find out what's wrong with you - or what else is wrong with you..." the last part trailing off.

All in all, they spent some 6-7 minutes outside slowly walking around the far corners of the building. If the dog still needed to go, Charles wanted her to do so here rather than repeat the whole routine upstairs one more time in the night. They had walked around to the front of the building and were about to circle back to the side entrance when the revolving door began to spin. "Hello Mr. Carson. Lady wake you up again tonight?"

Charles made eye contact with the young man who had just walked outside. "Oh hello, Mr. Nugent. Didn't realize you were on duty again tonight."

"Yes Mr. Carson, James had to go out of town suddenly, may not be back in fact, and I've stepped in for him," the super-sized redhead smiled at Charles. Squatting down, Alfred's focus was drawn to petting the sweet dog who had quickly become his favorite of the South Bank Tower's four-legged residents shortly after he had started on the building's security team last autumn. He was also fond of Charles who always made a point of greeting him and the other staff formally, enquiring of their well-being. They all in turn had a pact, unbeknownst to Charles, to extend extra regard toward this elder statesman amongst the building residents, especially after his wife's terminal diagnosis and subsequent death a few years prior.

"Come on inside, Mr. Carson, 'tis only February and the night air isn't good for any of us."

"Right you are, Mr. Nugent," he yawned before quickly adding, "Oh, I beg your pardon."

Alfred stood and held the swing door open for Charles. It just wasn't safe for dog or owner to walk through the revolving door together as one. "Mr. Carson, this is the third night in the last week you've been out with Lady in the wee hours, I hope she's alright."

Charles laughed at Alfred's choice of words, "Wee hours indeed," though Alfred didn't even notice his own cleverness. "I do too; we have an appointment with her veterinarian in the morning. This behavior is unusual, and it's wearing me out." Charles looked down as the gentle giant was once again bent over petting the dog standing contentedly in front of him inside the warm lobby.

Charles inquired on Alfred's studies and the young man acknowledged his books and upcoming exam. "Well, we best leave you to it. Nice to chat with you, Mr. Nugent. See you again, though hopefully not again before the morning."

"Yes, Mr. Carson, good night. And you too, Lady." With that, Alfred stood and walked over to the call button; when the lift doors opened, he reached inside, hit the button beside "30" and held the door open for Charles and Lady. Charles strode in and turned around, shaking Alfred's hand and bidding him a final goodnight before the doors shut, whisking man and dog back to their respective beds in the sky.

7:45 am

The next time Charles woke it was in the conventional - and planned - manner. Without lifting his head off the pillow, Charles peered over at the tartan fabric-covered dog bed. "Sound asleep are you now?" While he could use a lie-in, Charles knew he best stick with his original plan for the day.

He slipped into the loo to empty his bladder, washed his face and hands, brushed his teeth and swallowed his meds. Returning to the bedroom, he put on his clothes from yesterday once more before coaxing the dog awake. "Good morning, m'Lady." Opening her eyes, she stretched lazily and was about to close her eyes again when Charles tucked his hand under her behind to shoo her out. "You may go back to sleep after your constitutional, love. Let's get on with it."

Returning to the condominium some 15 minutes later, Charles washed his hands again and set about preparing the dog's morning bowl of kibble, freshening her water, and putting the drops in her eyes. After washing and drying his hands again, he turned the kettle on and began preparations for his morning coffee: pre-heating the French Press with hot water from the dispenser, weighing and grinding the beans; Charles Carson was nothing but precise in the process. Whilst the dog was licking the last of her breakfast from the bowl, the kettle began to whistle - one of the few sounds they both could still hear. As she typically did at this signal, the dog barked again. "That's a good dog. Good girl."

Charles pre-soaked and stirred the grounds before filling the carafe, stirring them again, placing the plunger over the mouth and setting the timer on his phone for three and a half minutes. As was his own habit at this moment, Charles walked to the wall of floor-to-ceiling windows that were opposite his galley kitchen.

He had been mesmerized by this west-facing view ever since he'd been exposed to an artist's rendering of it in the pre-construction phase; the Thames was right below and if one looked directly toward Parliament, Big Ben and the Eye were just a few degrees apart. Alice had first found their flat in the sky when she was contacted about designing the interiors for the residencies in the Tower's addition. It was she who outlined the wisdom for them to downsize and move into the heart of the city as both approached their childless golden years. And, it was she whose professional talents, and specifically the royalties off her work designing the sets for DOWNTON ABBEY - a ridiculously successful British period drama series – as well as her negotiating a pre-construction purchase option into her South Bank Tower contract, that allowed them to buy this prime bit of London real estate. The settlement from her medical malpractice suit less than a decade ago also underwrote a chunk of the luxury. As uplifting as the view itself was, it was in these recollections at the window that he also felt the painful reminder that she had hardly been able to enjoy the view herself. And with that, he stepped away.

Lady was now curled up and falling asleep in her second bed in his office. Finding her safely settled, Charles returned to the kitchen, turned off the timer, plunged the press and poured his first cuppa fortification. He hummed satisfactorily as he smelled the aroma and enjoyed the first sips. Lastly, he turned his attention to scanning the morning headlines and weather forecast on his iPad. As much as he appreciated the experience of thumbing through a honest-to-goodness newspaper, he found that he enjoyed even more so leaving no ink on his fingers or furniture.

Satisfied that the dog was now asleep, Charles opened Spotify and began the next phase of his morning routine while playing his playlist through the flat's built-in speakers. As the first notes began, Charles put down the device and began humming along as he made his way to the en suite to shower and shave. His routine was to dress after breakfast and so he returned to the kitchen in his bathrobe. He stood in front of the open refrigerator contemplating his options whilst scratching at the exposed triangle of chest where the lapels came together and a few sparse hairs poked out. In the end, he settled for light toast and poached eggs. After eating, he loaded the dishwasher and washed the pan by hand before heading back to his closet to dress.

Considering the morning temperature forecast to reach 7 and Charles itching for a ride, he opted for his base layer and rain gear regardless of the partly sunny skies; the combination would keep him warm and allow him to look semi-presentable to others at the veterinarian's.

Fully dressed, Charles made the bed before returning to the living area. As the morning continued, he checked his emails and pottered around the flat, including taking inventory of the wine bottles behind him. He needed to restock a few of the vintages and placed the order online with his preferred merchant. Charles was as amazed as ever at how time flew, and yet the dog could continue to sleep through it all. Waiting for the last moment to wake her, Charles gathered his wallet, keys, phone and bike helmet along with Lady's leash and trailer from the butler's pantry.

Even though he knew Lady couldn't hear him well, or even at all, Charles was in the habit of speaking to her. It filled the silence of his days. "C'mon, Lady, time to go see Dr. Mason and get one of Mrs. Mason's homemade biscuits." Latching on her leash and patting her behind, the dog sat up slowly and yawned wide before stretching out her torso. A little tug at the leash and she trotted behind his lead. Charles grabbed his helmet and held the leash in one hand whilst opening the door with his other and when it was open wide, grabbed the collapsible trailer that stood on end; he would not deploy it until they were downstairs in the bike room.

There, Charles hooked the leash around the trailer before reaching up to his hybrid bike and checking the tires. Assured that both were properly pressurized, he lifted it down from the ceiling hook, careful not to tangle it up with his road bike on its left or the child's bike hung on the right. He connected the trailer and made his way to the garage door, with Lady trailing him on her leash. A kindly neighbour heading inside whom he did not recognize held the door as Charles maneuvered dog, bike and trailer into the expanse of the car park. He left the equipment there under the valet's supervision while he took Lady out for one last stop in the grass. He wanted to avoid accidents in the trailer just as much as inside the building.

Finally, all were ready to journey to the veterinarian's office, Lady zipped into the trailer and Charles mounted on the bike. They were no sooner outside the car park entrance when Charles recognized it was chilly but otherwise a beautiful day for a ride and said as much to Lady who surprisingly was sitting up and delighted by the fresh breeze as Charles pedaled toward the bike path.

11:25 am
Pulling to a stop in front of the glass storefront with the lettering "Yew Tree Veterinary Clinic" above "Albert Mason, MVB, Andrew Parker, BVMS", Charles secured both bike and trailer to the rack before unzipping Lady and ushering her through the front door. As they stepped inside the waiting area, Charles was taken aback by the sight in front of him: red banners, paper lanterns, Chinese characters and dog silhouettes hung in multiple locations. "What in the world," he wondered, before the thought was interrupted by Mrs. Mason's voice, calling cheerfully from out of view, "Ni hao, be there in a moment!"

The waiting area was otherwise empty. Charles approached the reception counter and removed his helmet, unzipped his jacket all the while taking in the festive decorations throughout the space. Catching his reflection in the glass, he combed his right hand through his hair.

"Oh hello, Mr. Carson. A few minutes early for your appointment, I see. That's great, the doctor's just checking on one of the overnight patients in the back. May I pour you a cuppa?"

"Good morning, Mrs. Mason. I don't like to be late myself or inconvenience others by being so. Tell me please, what's with all the decorations?"

"It's the Lunar New Year today, Mr. Carson, Year of the Dog! We have to mark the occasion! Isn't that right, muffin? Mrs. Mason - Beryl according to the name tag pinned to her festive red scrub top was in front of the desk now and scratching Lady behind the ear which elicited a hearty tail wag at Beryl's affectionate touch. "I baked special fortune cookie shaped biscuits for today's patients. It's a bit of a slow day from here on out though, so we can probably give you two."

"Ah, perhaps after her appointment," Charles clarified.

"Of course" she replied settling beside the patient files behind the desk. Holding the coffee pot aloft as she looked at Charles again, he gestured back his decline.

Just then, Dr. Mason, dressed in his grey lab coat strode confidently toward Charles with his hand extended, "Good morning, Mr. Carson. Good to see you sir, and the little miss." He added a little nod of the head in the dog's direction at that last bit. "Shall we head back and see what we've got here?"

Dr. Mason weighed Lady, checked her vitals and then asked Charles to explain the reason for his booking today's appointment. Their middle of the night ventures and bladder control problems rolled up to the vet suspecting a UTI.

"I'd like to collect a urine sample so I can confirm what I think this is. When was her last drink of water?" Charles estimated a couple of hours prior by this point but also explain that Lady had urinated before the bike ride over. "Well, let's see if I can express the bladder. If not, we'll let her drink a little bit now and come back to it in say 20 minutes. The diagnostics take just a little while and then we'll know with certainty and take it from there."

Just as Dr. Mason finished that statement the two men heard commotion from out front - the ding of the door bell, loud barking, a woman's raised voice in reply and then Beryl's voice joining in.

"Right then," Charles clapped his hands together before scratching Lady behind the ear to keep her relaxed and comfortable as Dr. Mason continued his work. The veteran veterinarian soon determined that his Plan B was required. "Mr. Carson, we'll get her some water and then you may head to the waiting room; it will be more comfortable out there and my assistant Daisy or I will call you back."

As Charles approached the waiting area, the barking had stopped but Mrs. Mason was laughing mirthfully and otherwise carrying on a conversation with another human inhabitant of the waiting room. Said human appeared to be a petite, auburn-haired professionally dressed woman of middle age who was tying one end a leash to one of the chair's armrest whilst the other end was on the collar of a large, grey-haired mixed breed of some sort lying on the floor, head down at her feet. The dog appeared to still be a puppy given the size of the feet and slender limbs.

Oblivious to Charles's presence, the woman turned to address Beryl again and was startled by the presence of the tall, salt-and-pepper haired chap in his reflective riding jacket walking toward her with a sweet little Scottie on the end of the leash.

As it so happens, Lady, so unaware of her surroundings, was walking directly toward the woman who clasped her hands in front of a growing smile as the dog continued forward. "Oh Scottie, aren't you precious? Hello sweetheart!" It had been some time since a female voice had captured his attention as completely as these seven words did just now. And yet any more in that beautiful Scottish lilt were immediately lost on him for he was distracted by the sight of the woman's ample cleavage peeking out of her jumper as she had bent down to offer her closed fist to the dog in greeting. Charles was stopped cold but the woman in front of him didn't notice, she was still speaking with the dog, "What's your name?"

A clearing of the throat from behind the reception desk caught the woman's attention and she looked up to see Beryl staring at her intently whilst silently gesturing as if to cover up her bosom. Realization dawning, the woman's face turned red as she stood and adjusted her collar as subtly as possible. While still not eye-to-eye by any means, Charles could see that the woman had sparkling blue eyes and auburn tresses pulled into a simple updo. Regaining her composure, the woman asked again, "What's her name?"

Charles was still with the fairies, which was awkward for a moment until Beryl now spoke from across the room, "That's Shrimpie."

THAT got Charles's attention and he couldn't help but roll his eyes. "Yes, Shrimpie," he cleared his throat to speak with more control, "My niece is the dog - Shrimpie's - owner but she and her family moved to the US a year plus ago and left the dog in my care. I have detested the name Shrimpie since Sybil named her as a puppy when she herself was a teenager. The dog is now deaf as can be; accordingly, I choose to address her in a more distinguished way. She was a grand dame in her day and Lady or m'Lady seems fitting."

"Awww, Shrimpie. I think that's cute. Hello, Shrimpie," she smiled genuinely.

"Um, and may we also say hello?" By now Charles was composed and looking toward the other dog.

She followed his gaze down and rolled her eyes. "I suppose that'd be the friendly thing to do," she replied in that charming accent though with a hint of a bite to it. She curtly addressed the dog at her feet, "Behave yourself." Charles smiled and took one step closer to which the dog sat up on his haunches revealing his gender for all the world to see.

"Hello, boy." The dog pulled at his leash and began whimpering but his female owner was prepared.

"Igor, control yourself already!"

Charles sat down leaving two open chairs beside the dog's owner and reached out to pet the dog's head. The dog rotated around to face Charles. He continued speaking to the dog in a slow, soothing voice, "There you go. That's it, nice and gentle. Good boy." He continued to gently stroke the dog's head before speaking again in an inadvertently higher pitched, sing-song voice, "What's the matter with you?" And with that the dog jumped up albeit in a friendly way at Charles!

"Igor, down! You blasted dog!" Igor's owner was out of her chair and pulling the dog down and off Charles, one hand on the leash another on his collar. "I apologize for my bad, bad, BAD dog's behavior, Mr. Whatever your name is."

"Carson, Charles Carson." Over the initial shock, Charles busied himself by checking his jacket. Though there were now a few dog hairs clinging to it, it didn't appear the dog's nails had punctured the jacket's waterproof membrane."

"Elsie Hughes. I am so very sorry Mr. Carson. My apologies. Then shaking her finger in the dog's face, "I'll tell you what's wrong with Igor here – his sex drive! Can't wait to get the little bugger castrated so I can be Alpha again in my own home!"

Shocked at what this near stranger had just disclosed – and in particular how she phrased it – Charles unconsciously closed the width of his mansplay and responded, "I beg your pardon?"

"Damn dog hasn't been fixed yet and it's getting more and more problematic. Tried to have a little Valentine rendezvous with a purebred down the street the other night, if you catch my meaning. That's why we're here today. Damn dog's nothing but a tramp!" Elsie huffed, sitting down again. As much as Igor's lunge had shocked him, the fire in this woman's spirit and her frankness caught him off guard even more. As he sat staring at her, she calmed instantly and smiled pleasantly as if nothing unusual had happened.

Young Dr. Parker came out then and called out Igor's name. The woman stood up, untied the leash and greeted the veterinarian but she also made a point of acknowledging her new acquaintances, "Mr. Carson, Shrimpie," she smiled, "I hope we see you again."

"Ms. Hughes," he tipped his head in acknowledgement and returned her smile, before she disappeared around the corner.

Accustomed to speaking aloud and no one hearing him, Charles was quietly repeating her valediction when Daisy appeared and invited Charles and Shrimpie to return with her to Exam Room 1. Charles was unaware he had, in fact, been heard by Beryl, who quickly catalogued what she knew about Shrimpie's guardian, and her dear friend Elsie – and smiled broadly when she recognized a possible match between them.

12:20 pm

Wrapping up in Exam Room 1, Dr. Mason explained to Charles, "This antibiotic will knock Shrimpie out for some right now, but should also help jump start her recovery. Daisy is getting a couple weeks' worth of pills ready and then I'd like to see her again in two weeks." Discarding the needle in the Sharps container he concluded with a friendly smile, "Do you have any questions?"

Charles looked at the kind and gentle man a few years his elder, down at the dog and back again before choosing his words carefully. "Dr. Mason, as I always do, I'll be phoning my niece regarding Lady, er, Shrimpie's medical care. But I have to ask your professional opinion, doctor. The dog is almost 14 years old. She is deaf, blind, moves at a snail's pace, already sleeps almost all day every day except for the last week when she has been waking up - and waking me up in the middle of the night - and incontinent since then as well. How long is this going to go on?"

"I understand your concern Mr. Carson. Shrimpie is a very mature dog, elderly for her breed and gender, in fact. The blindness and deafness are clear acknowledgments of her age but the UTI and incontinence are temporary, and her heart is VERY strong. So, I think you've got her a while yet and we just continue to treat her with loving care. And make sure she drinks more water, that should help short term and long term." The kind doctor smiled at him, "You're clearly tired, Mr. Carson, go home and take a nap."

Gathering dog and prescription bag, Charles walked to the reception desk to book Shrimpie's follow-up appointment two weeks hence. As Beryl pretended to scan her husband's schedule for the first days in March, in fact her mind was focused on the sole appointment time adjacent to one of Dr. Parker's that she had penciled in for Igor Hughes.

Charles thanked Beryl and wished her a good day as he strapped on his bike helmet to leave. "Zaijian, Mr. Carson. See you again soon."