“Absolutely. I owe that man a big debt of gratitude. In fact I tell anyone who will listen that Doc Poole is by far the greatest human of his kind. A true hero to any pet facing a medical issue.”
“How did he save your life, Mr. Pigeon?” asked Dooley.
“Just call me Sam,” said the bird, his frosty demeanor a thing of the past now that he’d discovered we had a mutual friend in Tex. “Well, I recently hurt my left wing, see. I accidentally flew into a window and it hurt like hell. In fact it hurt so much I couldn’t fly anymore, and so I just figured that was that, you know. It’s hard for a pigeon to go through life without the capacity to fly. So I just sat here one day, feeling sorry for myself and generally figuring the end was near, when suddenly the Doc saw me, and picked me up and inspected me and said, ‘What seems to be thetrouble, little fella?’ Those were his exact words,” said Sam, a smile on his face at the recollection of that magical moment. “So I told him my wing was hurting and I couldn’t fly, and you know what he did?”
“I have no idea,” I said, not wanting to spoil Sam’s story by giving away the ending, which I figured was probably a given, since he’d just proven to us that he could, indeed, fly.
“He inspected my wing, said it was probably broken, then took me inside, put me under some kind of machine, and said that my wing was broken. And so he put my wing in what he called a splint, and then kept me in that small space next to his office for the next two weeks, hand-fed me, fetched me worms and other delicious grub, and nursed me back to health, if you please! And the upshot was that when he took off that splint, I could fly again!”
“Amazing!” said Dooley, who’d been so engrossed in the story that he’d practically forgotten to breathe.
“Yeah, and so I told a couple of my friends, and then they told their friends, and now whenever one of us is in some kind of trouble, we all come here, and Doc Poole treats us and makes us well again. The man is a miracle worker, I can tell you that, and he does all this out of the goodness of his own heart, and without asking for anything in return.”
“Did you hear that, Max?” said Dooley. “Tex is a miracle man.”
“Yeah, I heard that, Dooley,” I said. “But what I don’t understand is why we’re only hearing about this now.”
“Well, anyway, I gotta fly,” said Sam. “But if you see Doc Poole, tell him I said hi, and that I’m sending over a badger tonight who got something in his eye. Toodle-oo.”
“Toodle-oo,” I said as we watched Sam take flight and disappear from view with a few powerful strokes of his now fully healed wings.
“Amazing, isn’t it, Max?” said Dooley. “And here we thought that Tex is a closet alcoholic, and all this time he’s actually a closet Dr. Dolittle!”
“Yeah, that is pretty amazing,” I agreed. Just then, the sound of a loud argument came from inside the kitchen, and when we looked through the window, we saw that its participants were none other than Tex and Gran, and from the sound of things, their discussion was more than a little heated!
19
“Tex, you have got to stop doing this to yourself!” Vesta was saying. She didn’t like raising her voice, but sometimes that’s what it took to get through to her stubborn son-in-law.
“I know,” said Tex, looking miserable. He was leaning against the kitchen counter, a cup of hot java in his hand and taking an occasional disconsolate sip. “But how can I?”
“Look, if you don’t stop, someone is bound to find out sooner or later, and then what?”
“I’ll think of something,” said the doctor as a pained expression crept up his face.
“Think of what? How will you ever be able to face your patients again? If you’ll even have any patients left, that is. Which I’m pretty sure you won’t.”
“No one can know, Vesta,” said Tex, a pleading note creeping into his voice. “Why can’t this simply be our little secret, huh? I’m not doing anyone any harm, am I?”
“You’re making promises you can’t keep.” Tex’s mother-in-law shook her head and a sound of exasperation escaped her lips. “Why I ever agreed to keep this a secret, I don’t know. I should have told Marge the day I walked in on you and caught you red-handed.”
Tex looked up in alarm.“You haven’t told her, have you?”
“No, I haven’t, though by all rights I should. Don’t you think your wife is entitled to the truth? Or your daughter?”
“I can’t tell them,” said Tex stubbornly. “At least not yet.”
“If not now, when? You’ve gotta give me something, Tex. It’s hard for me to sit out there in that office and keep a straight face while basically telling your patients a bunch of lies.”
Tex groaned.“I know, I know. Do you think it’s easy for me? I have to sit there and listen to all of their… stuff.”
They were both quiet for a moment, then Tex just happened to glance out the kitchen window and suddenly cried,“Oh, no!”
Vesta looked up at this, and when she saw that two cats were seated outside on the windowsill, and had presumably heard everything with their very keen ears, she arranged her features into an expression of grim determination.“Looks like you’re in for it, buddy boy. If they know, the whole town knows—or at least the cat contingent.” She opened the window to let her cats in. “How long have you two been sitting there and how much have you heard?”
“We’ve been sitting here since you two started arguing,” said Max, “and we heard every word you said.” He directed a curious glance at Tex. “So what’s going on?”
Both cats looked up at her, eager to find out more, but since Vesta had sworn a solemn oath not to divulge her son-in-law’s secret, and she intended to keep her promise, she said, “I’m sorry, fellas. But I’m afraid my lips are sealed.”
Dooley directed a keen look at her lips.“They look fine to me,” he said.
“I promised Tex I wouldn’t tell anyone, and I’m not going to break that promise now.”
“But… you have to tell us, Gran,” said Dooley, who clearly couldn’t imagine a world in which Vesta didn’t tell her cats all.
“I’m sorry.” She glanced up at Tex, who was looking like death warmed over now.
“What do they say?” asked the doctor in a small voice.
“They’ve heard everything, but they have no clue what we were talking about,” she said and watched as relief vied with worry on the man’s face.
“Maybe we should tell them,” he said finally. “After all, they’re bound to find out sooner or later.”
“Are you sure?”
He bit his lip for a moment, then nodded. “Maybe it’s for the best. But ask them to keep it to themselves for now. I’m not ready to tell the world yet.”
“All right,” she said, and placed a comforting hand on the man’s back. “If you say so.” So she took a deep breath, and turned to her cats, who were staring at her with wild anticipation in their eyes. “You probably already know that Odelia’s dad is facing a huge problem.”
“We know,” said Dooley, with appropriate solemnity in his voice. “He’s an alcoholic.”
“Wait, what?”
“Yes, we’ve seen how much he drinks, and we know he’s in line for an intervention,” Dooley continued. “Only question is, where are we going to send him?”
“Exactly,” Max agreed. “The Betty Ford clinic must be very expensive, and after the whole house remodel I don’t think we’ve got that kind of money left in the family coffers. So maybe we’re going to have to settle for one of the less established but also less expensive places.”
Vesta shook her head and pressed her eyes closed for a moment.“Who have you told about this… alcoholism business?”
“Well, um… everybody,” said Max.
“No, we didn’t tell…” Dooley thought for a moment, then smiled. “No, Max is right. We told everyone.”
“In other words, the whole town now thinks that Tex has a drinking problem.”
Tex looked up at these words.“What?”