Part 5
At the next crossroads, Ruth turned toward home. Leah sent the message and put her phone away, leaving her free hand on Gus’s chest. He slept until they pulled into the driveway.
Getting him out took both of them. Ruth steadied the ramp while Leah supported him as the veterinarian had shown them, and then they waited in the mudroom until he was ready to cross the kitchen. He drank and settled onto his bed beside the cabinets. The clean cover remained in the car.
Ruth stood at the sink with an empty glass. She had expected to feel relieved when they got home, perhaps even pleased with herself for changing the plan. Instead she wanted to turn around and do the morning over, stopping at the refuge while they still could.
Leah asked whether she wanted eggs.
“There’s soup.”
“I know. Do you want eggs?”
“Yes.”
They ate with their plates balanced on their knees, far enough from Gus that he could stretch without either of them moving. Leah had burned one edge of the toast. Ruth ate that piece because it was nearest and discovered, halfway through, that she was hungry.
For a few hours the house was quiet. Gus woke to sniff the bag of crackers when Leah opened it. Later he went outside with help and stood beneath the laundry until a damp sleeve brushed his ear. He moved his head away with the offended expression he used to give Tom’s wet work gloves.
Ruth took that shirt off the line.
By late afternoon, he couldn’t get comfortable. He lay down, shifted, lifted his head, and tried again. Ruth checked the care instructions and called Dr. Hsu while Leah sat beside the bed. They followed his guidance, watching for a change that did not come.
He could come to the house shortly. He also told Ruth how to get immediate help if Gus became acutely distressed before he arrived. She gave him the address, though he already had it, and unlocked the front door.
Then she called him back.
“I don’t want you to come just to find another way to get us to Monday,” she said. The words sounded harsher than she had meant them. She watched Gus turn his head toward Leah’s hand and stopped trying to soften them. “If you think we’re there, I need you to tell me.”
“I’ll examine him when I arrive,” he said. “We can make that decision together.”
Ruth set the phone down. Leah had heard her side of the conversation, but Ruth repeated what the veterinarian had said. Then she asked her daughter to stay with them.
“I’m staying,” Leah said.
Dr. Hsu arrived while there was still light in the kitchen. He sat on the floor before opening his bag and let Gus smell his hand. He examined him gently, asked Ruth and Leah about the afternoon, and watched him try to settle. Ruth waited for a question she could answer differently and change what was happening.
He said that, given the disease and the discomfort they were no longer controlling well, euthanasia was a reasonable, compassionate choice now. They could talk about it. They didn’t have to move Gus to the clinic.
Ruth looked at Leah. Her daughter was crying quietly, still stroking the fur between Gus’s ears. She gave no sign for Ruth to follow.
“I don’t want him to hurt through another night,” Ruth said. “Please help him.”
There were things the veterinarian needed to explain and things Ruth needed to sign. She listened. Once she asked him to repeat himself, and he did, without speaking more loudly. Leah brought a chair so Ruth could lower herself to the floor safely, then moved it out of the way.
Gus’s bed had slid crooked against the cabinets. Ruth reached to straighten it, saw that the movement would disturb him, and left it alone. She put her palm beside his muzzle, where he could smell the soap she’d used at the sink.
Dr. Hsu gave him medication to let him relax first. Ruth kept her hand there while the effort left his body. Leah moved close enough that their shoulders touched.
“Hey, Gussie,” she whispered.
Ruth had not heard her use the childhood name in years. At twelve, Leah had been furious when Tom brought home a white puppy with paws too big for the laundry basket. She wanted a small dog she could carry. For the first month she called him Gussie just to annoy her father, and the name stayed long after she stopped trying to lift him.
Ruth felt the warmth of her daughter’s shoulder and leaned against it.
The veterinarian continued when they were ready. Nobody asked Gus to look up or offered him something he needed to rise for. Ruth rubbed the soft place behind his jaw, slowly, the way he had liked it when he was young enough to shove her hand back if she stopped.
Afterward Dr. Hsu listened to his chest. He told them his heart had stopped, and remained beside them for a while.
Gus’s ear had folded against the bed.
Leah eased it straight. Ruth watched her do it and touched the coarse hair along his shoulder, above the place the veterinarian had shaved. The fur still held a little dust from the staff yard, though they hadn’t gone inside that morning.
When the time came to arrange his aftercare, Ruth answered the questions herself. She asked for a few more minutes before Dr. Hsu carried out the arrangements they had chosen. He stepped into the next room, leaving his closed bag by the door.
Ruth and Leah stayed on the kitchen floor. Outside, a neighbor started a mower and stopped it twice before it caught. Gus had disliked that machine every Saturday of his life.
Ruth waited for his head to lift.
Then she reached for Leah’s hand, and her daughter gave it to her.
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