Fauna (35 page)

He opens the door, the kits spilling out to crowd around his knees. Without further ado, he upends his bottles and guides their little yellow nipples into the two nearest mouths.

“Go ahead,” he tells her, and when she does the same for the other two, they latch on with surprising strength. One bunches over onto its side and twists its neck, cheeks and throat pumping. The other rolls onto its back, offering up the smooth maroon pads of its little hands.

When Stephen glances up at her, she can’t help but return his smile. “Where’d you find them?”

“Hole in a tree.”

“You took them from their den?”

“Well, yeah.” His smile fades. “Their mother was dead.”

“Are you sure?”

“What do you mean, am I sure? Dead is dead.”

“No, I mean, how did you know it was their mother?”

He looks down at the kits, all four of them nursing hard. “I knew.”

“It’s just, sometimes people mean well, but—”

“They would have died if I’d left them.” His voice is still quiet but no longer entirely soft.

“Okay.” She focuses on the levels dropping in all four bottles. “Is this cow’s milk?”

“No, it’s not cow’s milk. It’s the stuff you give kittens. I know what I’m doing.”

“Okay, sorry. It’s just—shouldn’t you be starting them on solid food?”

“I am,” he says sharply. “I will. What makes you such an expert anyway?”

“Me? Nothing. I’m not.” A squeal alerts her to the fact that her hand has shifted, popping the nipple from one of her hungry mouths. The kit kneads the air fretfully. “Sorry,” Edal says again, and she nuzzles the tip back in.

It would appear Lily’s not a fan. She’s still picking at her first helping while Guy and Stephen go back for thirds, even though Kate went with a mild-to-medium rogan josh. At least Lily came. Kate thought she saw Edal frown at the mention of curry, and sure enough, she hasn’t turned up at all.

“We should have this every night,” Stephen says, scooping up a last forkful of rice.

Kate smiles. “You liked it?”

“More than like.”

“Ditto,” says Guy.

“I meant because of
The Jungle Book
, though,” Stephen says. “Indian food for an Indian story.”

“I don’t know how Indian it is.” Kate hears the edge in her voice. “Don’t get me wrong, I love the book. It’s just not—he’s not Indian.”

“Sorry.” Stephen flushes. “I didn’t—”

“No, it’s okay.”

“We should have raw meat.” Lily stands, reaching for Kate’s plate. “Antelope, maybe, or monkey. If we want to be like the book.”

Guy laughs. “Cut down on the dishes.”

“Speaking of which.” Stephen rises, takes his own plate and Guy’s, and follows Lily to the sink.

Guy stands a moment later and heads for the corner room. Kate’s not sure what just happened. She reaches back for her ponytail and holds it. When Billy nudges up against her, it’s all she can do not to cry.

Tonight’s chapter is uneven. “The King’s Ankus” starts off promisingly, but Kate feels her attention begin to wander during the scene in the ancient vault. She has about as much interest in the mounds of forgotten treasure as Mowgli does. When the jewelled ankus catches the wolf-boy’s fancy, her mind wanders even more.

Lily’s right,
The Jungle Book
is about the animals—at least the best parts are: Mowgli wrestling with Kaa until the great snake tires of the game and sends him sprawling; the pair of them swimming silently together in the
pitchy-black pool
. Kate tunes back in when Mowgli returns to the jungle and meets up with Bagheera. What a thing it would be to go running with a panther—even if it was to follow a trail of corpses, tracking the cursed ankus from man to greedy man.

She’s not sure what she expects when the reading’s over. Anything but this sprung silence, the four of them staring at the closed book as though they’re waiting for it to move.

“Okay.” She rises. “Well, thanks again, Guy.”

“Any time. Especially if you bring the food.”

Billy trundles out from beneath the table to press against her. “Bye, Billy.”

“I’ll let you out,” Stephen says.

“Oh. Okay, thanks. See you, Lily.”

“Yeah.” Lily’s got the book in her hand now. She doesn’t look up.

Stephen walks ahead of her to the gate—part gentleman as he holds it open, part warden as he secures it again.”Good night, Kate.” His face not unfriendly, but perhaps not as friendly as before.

“Good night.”

She’s tempted to run home, flip-flops or no. Why she wore them tonight, she can’t say—except that they’re red and new, and her feet were craving contact with the spring air. The leather rubs between her toes as she walks. She might have to go barefoot part of the way; blisters would mess with tomorrow’s run.

At Broadview, she catches herself looking back, hoping to see a pair of inseparable figures, one upright and willowy, the other stump-like on all fours. The street is a void. Three short blocks until it turns back on itself alongside the wrecking yard and comes to an end.

She keeps her shoes on through Chinatown, bends to slip them off as she leaves the coloured light behind. The pavement is smooth enough, but she keeps her eyes down,
scanning for a spring smear of dog crap or the warning glister of glass. Which may be why she doesn’t hear them coming, why she jumps when Billy’s nose meets the back of her knee.

“Sorry.” Lily hops off Guy’s old bike beside her. “Did we scare you?”

Kate nods, her heart hammering. “A little.”

“Sore feet?”

“New shoes.”

“Maybe you need physio.”

“Yeah, vet tech heal thyself.”

Billy walks between them, his fur brushing Kate’s bare leg. She lays a hand on his head and lets it ride along.

“You think it’s for real,” Lily says, “that ankus thing? Do they really stick hooks in the elephants’ heads?”

“I don’t know, maybe. Probably not anymore.”

“Aren’t you from there?”

“India? No. My dad is.” She pauses. “I’ve never been.”

Is Lily just escorting her home, or is she planning on coming inside again? Last night she spent the whole visit on the kitchen floor, bridging the gap between natural enemies. Maybe this time they should sit in the living room.

“You have to work tomorrow?” Lily says as they take the turn.

“Nope.” Kate waits a moment before adding, “How come?”

“No reason.” Lily runs her fingers through Billy’s swishing tail. “What’s it like, anyway? Is it, like, a gym for dogs?”

Kate laughs, then winces, stepping on something sharp. She stops to inspect her heel and finds a pebble, dark and pointed, clinging to her flesh. They’re two doors down from the house. She could invite Lily in and describe the rehab
centre in detail, just like she did when Lou-Lou asked. Or she could try something new. “You really want to know?”

“I asked, didn’t I?”

Kate nods, deciding. “You’d better lock up the bike.”

“It doesn’t have a lock.”

“Okay, then, bring it inside.” She tries the heel, finding it only slightly tender. “Come on, I have to get the car keys anyway.”

Lily raises her eyebrows. “You have a car?”

“Nice.”

It’s the first word Lily’s spoken since she bundled her dog into the back seat and buckled herself into the front. Silence as they crossed the Gerrard Street bridge. Silence through Cabbagetown, the gay village, downtown. Now, as they idle at the corner of Harbord and St. George, Kate can only assume it’s the sprawling campus that’s finally prompted her to speak.

“This is U of T,” she says. “Maybe you know that already.” She pauses. “Are you from Toronto?”

“I meant the car.”

“Oh.” The light changes, and Kate eases her foot off the brake. “It’s nothing fancy. I think it’s a ninety-nine.”

“It’s nice,” Lily says again. “It’s cute.”

Of course it is. Kate loves the little hatchback—why did she put it down? Another red light at Spadina. She slows to a stop. “It was Lou-Lou’s.”

“I figured.” Lily’s quiet until the light turns. Then, as Kate touches the gas, “I should learn to drive sometime.”

Kate nods, eyes on the tail lights before them. It’s as good a chance as any. “How old are you?”

“Me?” Lily spreads a grubby hand on the dash. “Old. Fucking ancient.”

It’s the last response Kate expects. “No,” she says, “seriously.”

“Seriously?” Lily turns in the seat to face her. “I’m seventeen.”

“‘Annex Canine Rehabilitation Centre.’” Lily reads the sign aloud as Kate punches in her access code. “You get any dogs on meth?”

“Har har.”

Six digits and they’re in, the time of their arrival recorded somewhere, though Kate doubts anyone ever reviews such things. If they do, she can always say she forgot her purse and had to come back. Hell, why even lie? No one’s ever told her she can’t bring a friend down after hours for a tour. All the same, she’s glad the Emerg entrance lies around the corner, out of view.

Bypassing the wall switch, she opts for the gentle glow of the desk lamp. While Lily surveys the room, Billy snuffles over the mat where dozens of his species have submitted to Kate’s care.
Doggy masseuse?
Daddy’s always had a way with words.
Is this what you are telling me? Now you are massaging dogs?

Not only, Daddy. There’s more to it than that. It’s a promotion
.

Promoted to dog-rubber
.

Vic
. Mummy touched his hand.

Okay-okay. Congratulations. Many happy returns
.

“What’s this?” Lily says, picking up the goniometer.

“That’s for measuring girth, say at the hip or the stifle joint—the knee.”

Lily nods. “So it’s a measuring tape.”

“Well, yeah, a fancy one. It’s calibrated so you get the same pressure every time.”

“Huh.” Lily returns the goniometer to its spot on the shelf. It’s something Kate’s noticed before, this concern for other people’s things. Lily dried Guy’s chipped plates as though they were finest bone china. Stacked them in the cupboard with care.

Lily inspects a pair of laminated posters:
Canine Skeletal Configuration, Canine Muscular Configuration
. “Hey, Billy, did you know you have occipital condyles?”

Billy looks round at the sound of his name then back to the exercise ball he’s nudged into the corner.

“So do you,” Kate says.

“Just me?”

“Well, no, me too. We all do.” She hears herself and takes a breath. “So. Well, this is the reception area. File cabinets, closet, computer, desk. I guess that’s all pretty obvious.”

Lily says nothing. Kate looks down at the desk, flipping open the top folder in the pile. Pinky, a chubby pug with a fractured pelvis. Should she tell Lily about him, show her the Polaroid in the file, or just get on with the tour? Billy makes the decision for her, padding down the narrow corridor toward the tank room.

“Billy,” Lily says sharply, halting him in his tracks.

“No, he’s right.” Kate closes the file on Pinky’s pushed-in face. “That’s next.”

She ushers Lily before her, feeling absurdly formal, as though she’s just laid her cloak down over a puddle in the road.

“Wow,” Lily says. “What the fuck is that?”

Kate comes to stand alongside her. Billy’s already on the ramp, nosing the front panel of the tank. “That, believe it or not, is an underwater treadmill.”

“You’re shitting me.”

“Nope. The water takes the weight off. Lets them build up their muscles without the strain.”

“Wild.” Lily moves to the tank, curls both hands over the faux wood rim and looks inside. “Hey—” She turns, keeping one hand in place like a ballerina at the barre. “Can Billy try?”

Kate should have seen it coming, and maybe some part of her did. No doubt she’d be in trouble if anyone found out. She might even be out of a job.

“Absolutely,” she says. “Your wish is my command.”

Billy handles the tank like a pro. He stands firm while the water level rises, begins strolling the moment the belt kicks into gear. Lily kneels on the ramp before him, her palms pressed to the glass. “He loves it. Look at him—he fucking loves it. You want to go faster, boy?” She turns her smile Kate’s way. “Can he go faster?”

“Sure.” Kate moves in to punch the button, stepping back out of habit to gauge how Billy reacts. Not a hitch. His fur waves like seagrass. He lifts each foot distinctly, almost proudly, as though he’s marching in a parade. “Perfect.”

“What is?”

“Billy’s gait. His stride. It’s perfect.”

The look on Lily’s face is heartbreaking—she beams as though she might cry. Kate watches her stand and reach down inside the tank. Watches Billy nuzzle her fingers for a moment before she dips her hand. “It’s warm.”

“Uh-huh. It helps their muscles relax.”

“Plus it’s just nicer.”

“That too.”

The air is damp and doggy. The water’s turning murky; this is an animal well acquainted with the silty Don. It’s all right—Kate will wipe down the tank when he’s done.

“Think he’s getting tired?” Lily asks.

“I don’t know. Looks like he could go all night.”

“Sure, but when do the rest of us get a chance?”

Kate looks up. “Oh. It’s not really the same for bipeds. The weight distribution—you don’t get the same lift.” Maybe it would be different for Lily, though. That delicate neck. Those bird-quill bones in the backs of her hands.