A/N: I apologize for the shortness for the first "Chapter Eleven" my laptop battery was dying and I couldn't write more even though I wanted to. Thanks for your patience, I haven't been able to update because my grades are dropping and all my energy has been focused on Algebra. The thought of it makes me shiver. Needless to say, I am reposting this with some new additions. Enjoy!
Chapter Eleven: Don't Get on That Part Two and a Visit to the Vet
I woke up to the sound of the iPod stereo next to my bed and the song that was playing couldn't have been anymore ironic. I Can Dream about You by: Dan Hartman pulsed into our bedroom, the cheesy music reminding me of Greg spending hours at a time shopping for old records on weekends. He was such a nut for oldies music, and I would always roll my eyes and pay for them. Now lying down in the bed, eyes closed, breathing almost nonexistent, all I could think about was how he would play requests for me on his piano. Man could that man sing and play until the sun came up.
As programmed the stereo turned off after playing its awakening song, and I heard a sudden sound coming from the living room. A sound that reminded me of ivory piano keys being touched, several at a time. I bolted upwards in bed, tore the sheets of me, and lunged out of the room. "Greg?!" I exclaimed, not sure if I was talking to the dog, the doctor, or my own imagination. What I saw will stay with me until the day I die.
Greg the Husky was sitting on the piano bench with his two front paws on the white, dusty keys. He was pushing random notes, not playing anything recognizable, and when he saw me approach him, he stopped, panting like he was having the time of his life. "Don't get on that. Off! Off with you!" I shouted, losing control of the hysteria and the volume of my voice. The dog leapt from the bench and landed on the ground, whimpering slightly when he landed on his right leg.
My breathing finally slowing down, I lowered my hand from my chest, and investigated the piano for any damage at all. There were paw prints on the bench and on the ivory, making it look clean in sections and dustier in others. On the bench there was still a written message in gold coloured permanent marker: "Hey Wild Thing---You still make my heart sing!" I heart ached to see that handwriting for the second time in one week, but I was more relieved that nothing got damaged or removed.
I turned my attention to the dog, who was standing up with his head down, tail in between his legs, and looking very submissive. "Oh Greg. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to lose my temper with you. It's just this is very important to me and Gregory House's memory. I didn't want you to chew on it or destroy anything that he…left me. It's okay. Come here." I allowed the dog to come to me and when he was under my feet I crouched down hand extended. "There we go. It's alright." I scratched behind his ears, his and my body language relaxing. "Let's get you to the vet okay?" I whispered, remembering that I had the day off today.
I stood up from the wooden floor and walked over to the empty dog dishes on the ground, where I swooped down to pick them up. I made my way to the sink and refilled the water dish, and set it down on the ground. The food dish stayed up on the counter. I also reached into the bag and pulled out a rawhide bone for my furry friend. He was sitting at my heels, and when he saw the chew bone in my hand I noticed his head cock to one side.
"Yes, this is for you." I chuckled at the curious expression on his face. I handed it to him and he laid down on the ground and started to go to work on the bone. I decided to take this time to take a shower and get dressed, now that Greg was occupied on something that obviously could keep him busy for at least an hour and a half.
Stepping out of the bedroom about forty-five minutes later in my gray McGill sweater and blue jeans, I noticed Greg chewing on something small and yellow. Something that squeaked every time his teeth sunk into it. I realized it was the rubber ducky from last night's water adventure, and I was just content its sound could still function. I didn't want to interrupt such his thought process, so I carefully stepped around him, made my way to the kitchen, and took out his collar and his leash from the bag.
I then strutted over to him with an approachable smile on my face, "Okay Greg. Time to go to the vet. I promise I won't let him hurt you." He stood up and started wagging his tail excitedly, the thought of him going somewhere had his heart beating a thousand miles a minute. I put his collar on his neck, loosened it to fit around his neck, and clipped on the leash. We walked out together and I locked the door behind us.
A Bit Later at the Vet's Office
I sat there in the waiting room chair, wondering to myself if the same chair company that made these chairs also made the hospital's clinic chairs. I cleared the random thought from my head and started to scratch behind the neurotic ears at my feet. Greg wasn't doing so well in this setting. I could tell from his behaviour in the pet store parking lot that he wasn't the most social creature in the state of New Jersey.
Two seats to our left an elderly woman was holding a gray tabby cat in a yellow blanket giving the two of us a weary stare, making Greg's head lower in shame. In three uncomfortable chairs to my right, a balding wrinkled man sat with a pug in his lap, his face showing something of sympathy and uneasiness. When Greg walked into the waiting room, he growled and barked at both the pug and the cat, making my face burn as red as the letters on my shirt. I muttered out an apology and tried to get Greg to calm down.
Before I knew it, a woman came out wearing a lab coat and holding a clipboard. "James Wilson?" she asked the small group of animals and their masters. I raised my hand, stood up, and stated "We're here." She smiled at my foster child who seemed to relax at her arrival, and led the two of us to an exam room.
"What are we in for today Dr. Wilson?" the middle-aged woman asked, patting the exam room table, inviting Greg on the wax papered surface. He hopped up without a single thought, and started wagging his tail again like the earlier incident never happened.
"Well, Dr. Karen, I went to my late finance's grave yesterday and on my way out I found him. He approached me with friendliness and I couldn't pass up those blue eyes." When I saw her smile after examining his ears, I felt the courage to continue. "So I took him home after buying some basic pet supplies. I gave him a nice meal, a bath, and a nice sheltered night's sleep."
She checked inside his mouth, nodded, and made a note on the chart. "You wanted to see if he had an owner didn't you?" Dr. Karen asked, her eyes searching my face for an honest answer. I felt my lips curl up in a small smirk and I sighed through a nod. "Well that is the responsible thing to do. I am pleased to say that he is a bit malnourished, and his back leg has some nerve damage, but overall he is okay," the animal medical expert said.
I grinned brightly and felt my world brighten as well. "Can you scan him for the microchip navigation device? I just want to make sure I am not taking him from anyone." Dr. Karen turned around, grabbed the scanner on the wall, and faced the two of us again. She removed the collar from his neck and pressed a button on the scanner. A phone number appeared on the green pixilated screen. " It looks like your new friend has an owner." And just like that, my heart sank.