Memorial

LIV.Ray

THEY took Friar Tuck to a rehab center in Covina.

BG said the place looked like a resort. The woman at check-in was expecting them. Ghulpa confirmed they wouldn’t be “outlaying any monies” and their greeter said yes, she was correct, the City of Industry was taking care of everything. The couple were treated like VIPs.

The Friar snarled at Rahul, the assigned trainer, then spat out a beaded necklace of coughs, in nervous spasm. The unruffled therapist in swim trunks, flip-flops, and medical smock bent down and stroked his new patient, telling him how brave he was. Without taking his eyes off Friar Tuck, he told the owners this wasn’t the 1st dog he’d worked with who had been shot. The old man was surprised yet glad the helper was experienced. Rahul gently drew his hand over the injured hip to assess pain and mobility.

He asked “Mr and Mrs Rausch” if their dog was a “water guy” and Ray said yes, “Nip” liked chasing after waves in the ocean and had been known to jump in a pool now and then. (That’s when he told Rahul the alias — Nip/Tuck — and the therapist had a laugh.) Today’s session would be short. He liked to start his clients out slowly, to acclimate them to their new surroundings.

They watched him lower Nip — now the preferred appellation — into the water, steadying the wounded warrior onto a special, brightly painted treadmill that Rahul called “the yellow submarine.” After a few minutes, he suggested they have a walk around the facility; “overprotective parents” sometimes impeded progress. He said there was a waiting area where they could have snacks and coffee.

A staff member escorted them to a patio café called Starbarks. She got Ghulpa a tea and Ray a soft drink, and the Rausches settled into a gingham-covered picnic table with bowls of carrots, cauliflower, and ranch-dressing dip. Against the old man’s mild protestations, the staffer made him a cappuccino, sprinkling it with cocoa. In the future, she told them a shuttle could pick the Friar up at home, saving them the trip; but of course they were more than welcome to “tag along” whenever they liked. There was a treatment package that included acupuncture and massage. “The meridians are exactly the same as with humans,” she said, when Ghulpa asked about the needles. “We always recommend it whenever there’s been surgery or bone injury. I’m pretty sure the city will pick that up.” She winked, as if it was already a done deal. The Center even had a Saturday yoga class called Upward Dog that was “a hoot.”

“You should see our ‘kids.’ They can hold all the major poses. It’s really a wonderful holistic workout — and great for the owners too. All species are invited!”

“Well, hel-lo,” said a lady, trundling over with a King Charles in her arms. She beamed at Ray and Ghulpa but they didn’t recognize her. “How are you?”

She reintroduced herself as Cora, who they’d met at the hospital on Sepulveda.

“And this, I’m sure you remember, is the famous Mr Pahrump!”

They were happily reunited, marveling not only to find each other again, but in this wonderful place as well. Comrades-in-arms, in the war of recovery.

“It’s our 1st time,” said Ray.

“Isn’t it marvelous?”

“The Friar’s having himself a little ‘submarine’ therapy.”

“He’s on the treadmill?” She put down Pahrump — who was sniffing at BG’s Vans and pant cuffs — and clapped her hands with glee. “Now, isn’t that fabulous? I’m going to get one for the house. My son Stein bought me an ‘ellipis’—I have arthritis — but I never use it. Of course, you can’t just dunk it in the pool! You need a special kind.”

Ray gave Pahrump a caress. You could still see the tumor. The dog had a tremor and Cora said it was from the effects of chemo and the various pills he was taking, all of which were making him stronger each day.

“He’s got something for his heart and for ‘cognitive dysfunction’ as well. Whatever that is! Since his surgery, my Rumper’s been having a little trouble recognizing Stein and the grandkids. They say that’s perfectly normal. There’s a period of readjustment, and it’s longer or shorter, depending on the animal.” Her eyes welled with tears, but just for a moment. “I cannot imagine how he’s suffered…he is a hero. Aren’t you, baby? Aren’t you my hero? They have him on Percorten-V for Addison’s disease, and Eto-Gesic for his osteo. I’m telling you, after all this is over, I’m going to be ready to hang my veterinary shingle!” She boastfully rattled off the inventory of curatives. “There’s a glorious antidepressant, Clomicalm — a miracle drug! He’s practically back to his old sleeping patterns. Which is more than I can say for myself.”

The ordeal had taken its toll. A few days ago a well-meaning staffer suggested that if things got too difficult, there was always a 30 acre avocado ranch up north, “the only retirement home for the white-whiskered set in the entire western U.S.” She cried at the thought of banishing King Charles from his kingdom. (“I might decide to go live there myself!”) Still, the thought of Pahrump living amongst sycamores and rosebushes with a cadre of caregivers and retired show dogs did provide comfort, and warmed her heart during dark nights of the soul. The staffer told her that the upscale “spread” even had its own newspaper, The Muttmatchers Messenger. “Isn’t that darling?”

Cora had begun to like the whole idea.

“The most amazing place I heard of — now shoot, who told me about it? — the most amazing place is a home that takes in your pet, should you ‘predecease.’ I’m having Steinie look into it. My son is most definitely not a dog person. He’s a businessman, doesn’t have near the patience. And I love my grandchildren but they make Pahrump skittish. Always have, don’t know why.” She stroked beneath his chin. “Maybe they’re not dog people either, huh. My baby is very special — aren’t you, bubblehead? — and very sensitive. And now with this cancer…poor thing, it’s laid him so low.” Tears flooded her eyes. “But this extraordinary place takes our children in — should something happen to us before, or we become incapacitated…I think it’s $25,000—maybe 50 for a horse or a llama. They have llamas, isn’t that lovely? They do, they do, they do. My, I think they even said they would take an elephant! That way you have peace of mind knowing that if you were gone, God forbid, your little one would be cared for till the end of his days.”

BG nodded sympathetically. As she spoke, Cora took in the fact that Ray’s companion was in a different age bracket than her elders but the young Indian woman was reserved and polite and attentive. Besides, she was busy speechifying now, her main theme being that the world wasn’t the awful place the news depicted it to be — the world was filled with caring people who loved all manner of 4-legged angels who couldn’t fend for themselves. We were all God’s children, wasn’t that right? Talk turned briefly to Saturday yoga, and Cora spoke of a class at the Center held on Sundays (“by a psychologist”) that was meant to foster a closer relationship with one’s pet, especially during the healing process. “They call it Unleashing Your Inner Canine,” she said, with a titter. “Isn’t that darling?”

Just then the therapist arrived in a blue terry-cloth robe over his wet suit, with Friar Tuck on a kind of muzzle-leash. Ghulpa was pleased to note the dog had been blown dry, making him look silly, handsome, and endearing all at once; they really were very thoughtful and thorough. Cora encouraged Pahrump to do a bit of socializing but “Nip” growled, looking as if he was prepared to live up to his sobriquet (that’s why his mouth was strapped shut). Rahul tugged on the leash and told him to sit but the Friar went wild, and Cora nervously gathered up Mr P. The poor woman retreated as the dog redoubled his fearsome lunges; the therapist soon got him in hand.

Ray waved a wan goodbye but wasn’t sure if Cora saw.

“He did very well today. You know, we often see this kind of aggressive behavior when a dog has sustained the type of trauma yours has. Not everyone takes a bullet and lives to bark about it! That’s a pretty big deal.”

BG watched the Friar’s eyes lock onto his handler’s, as if in appreciation of the comment.

“I’d like to give you a number to call — someone who might help speed along the process.” Ghulpa immediately asked who would pay, and while he was reluctant to commit, Rahul said he did know something about their case and that he’d be extremely surprised if the City of Industry didn’t cover “any and all charges” that came up; the center had special social workers who “interfaced with the city” and would handle billing issues for the couple. The person he had in mind to hasten Nip’s recovery actually worked with all kinds of animals, he said, quite a few of them owned by celebrities.