Influenza: Viral Virulence (8 page)

“Okay, Mom.”

“And we’d like you to come join us as soon as you can,” she said.

“When are you leaving?” Michael asked.

“If all goes well, we’ll leave within the next twenty-four hours.”

“I’m getting my truck from the shop today,” Michael said. “I don’t know exactly when I’ll leave here. I have to pack and…”

“I’d like you to come here, and then we can go see your aunt together.”

“I don’t know if I can do that just yet. I’ll try. And Lorie might need a ride home too.”

“Lorie?” his mom asked with a certain tone that Michael had heard before. “I like her. She’s a nice girl, Michael.”

“Mom…”

“What? I just said she’s a nice girl. That’s all.”

“Yes, Mother,” he said, knowing what she was implying.

“We really would like you to try to make it home before we leave. But if you can’t, your father wanted me to ask if you would mow the lawn before heading to your aunt’s place. The grass is getting long, and it will be a nightmare to cut if we’re gone for more than a couple of weeks.”

“Okay, Mom.”

“Love you.”

“Love you, too, Mom.”

They hung up, and Michael continued to walk to the garage. His parents were concerned for him, but they had not tried to force him to come home. Maybe they weren’t trying to be overbearing and control his life. Maybe they just cared deeply and wanted the best for him.

Is the stuff really hitting the fan?
It seemed so unreal. He looked around. Birds were still flying, cars were still driving on the streets, and he could hear the laughter of children playing in the distance. Maybe he’d had a nervous breakdown and was living in some sort of delusion. Or maybe Crazy Ted had hit him a little harder than he thought.
Was this real? Were these things actually happening?
And with more than just a little twinge of guilt, Michael thought maybe his parents had been right all along with their prepping fervor.

Located on the outskirts of town, the trip to Gary’s garage was a rather long walk. Michael had considered asking Brian for a lift, but he never liked to impose on people. If Wilbur hadn’t sent him home, he would have been forced to ask Brian for a ride, but since Wilbur had canceled his shift, Michael had the time to walk.

It was almost an hour later when he arrived at Gary’s garage. To his dismay, it looked closed. Michael knocked on the big, oversized doors with no response. The doors were chained and padlocked. He walked around to the office door. Even though Gary was usually in the garage and rarely in the office, Michael wanted to check.

He tried the doorknob to the office—locked. Then, he noticed the hastily scrawled note, which said, “Closed due to illness.” Underneath, it said, “In case of emergency, dial 555-1533.”

Punching the numbers into his cell phone, Michael was greeted with the familiar fast busy signal. He tried the number a few more times, and on his last try, it connected. The phone on the other end rang. After the sixteenth ring, Michael gave up. Exasperated and tired, he started on the long walk toward home.

On his way, he tried calling his parents to tell them about his truck, but his call would not go through. He had a sudden, horrible, thought. What if that was the last chance he had to talk to them and he had not told them just how much he loved them. In fact, he could not remember the last time that he did tell them.

Chapter 8

The following day,
Brian, Scott, and Michael all attended their Tuesday morning classes. As they looked around the classrooms, they estimated that less than half of the students were in attendance. The signs were still posted on all the doors. Some classes had even been canceled due to the professors’ illnesses. They walked back to their apartment.

As he entered the apartment building, Michael realized that the animal-control shelter, also known as “the pound,” had not called him yet about his weekly schedule. Michael had always had a soft spot in his heart for abandoned, neglected, and abused dogs. During this last year at school, he had signed up to do volunteer work at the pound.

It wasn’t an easy job. The noise from the constant barking was deafening. If one dog started barking, the rest would happily join in. All he had to do to start the symphony was walk into the kennel area. They would all get excited about being fed or going into the yard for a quick run.

And then there was the smell. The kennel always stank of urine and feces, no matter how often the cages were cleaned. The stench just seemed to soak permanently into the concrete floors. But it wasn’t the dogs’ fault. They were just being dogs.

Despite the noise and smell, Michael enjoyed volunteering. He got satisfaction out of giving the homeless dogs some attention and love in their lives. It was a sad job, too. He wished he could take all of them home with him. They all deserved a loving and caring family. But, unfortunately, dogs were coming in faster than they were being adopted out. If the apartment lease had allowed the occupants to have pets, who knows how many of the dogs that he cared for would end up at his place.

One of the things Michael had volunteered to do was to take digital photos of the animals and periodically update the website. A current list and picture of an adoptable dog would greatly increase the chances of someone coming in looking for a new pet. Michael would also contact the local dog rescue agencies if a particular breed showed up at the shelter. If a Siberian husky came in, he would get on the phone with the Siberian Husky Rescue League. If a German shepherd was dropped off, he would contact that rescue organization. He did everything in his power to save as many animals as he possibly could.

The pound usually called him Monday afternoon to ask what his schedule was like and what days he could volunteer for the following week. Between school and working at the pharmacy, Michael could usually manage only about two or three afternoons each week. It was now Tuesday, and he had not talked with them yet.

“Did the pound call on Monday?” he asked his roommates.

Brian thought about it and shook his head no.

“No, I don’t think so,” Scott answered.

“That’s strange,” Michael muttered, mostly to himself. He dialed the number to the shelter from the home phone. After more than twelve rings, Michael gave up and put the phone down. Frustrated, he just looked at the receiver in his hand.
Isn’t anybody answering their phones anymore?

Of course, just because someone didn’t answer the phone at the pound did not necessarily mean that no one was there. There might just be one person working, and he or she might be in the kennel, where it was impossible to hear the phone ring above the chorus of the barking.

“No one answered,” Michael said. “Brian, do you mind if I borrow your car and go and give them my schedule for next week?”

“Go ahead,” Brian answered.

“I feel bad about borrowing your car so much…,” he started.

“Seriously, Michael. Don’t worry about it. I still owe you from when my car broke down last year. Remember? And what about the time you drove both of us all the way home? Don’t even think about feeling bad about borrowing the car.”

“Thanks,” Michael said gratefully.

He retrieved the car keys from the table and drove off to the pound in Brian’s car. He noticed a lot of traffic on the road. It looked like an exodus of people, mostly college students, leaving town. Still feeling a little guilty about borrowing the car, Michael vowed to fill up the tank. It was the least he could do.

Pulling into the gas station, he was surprised at how many cars were waiting to fill up. Usually, he could pull right up to the pump. Today, he had to wait almost fifteen minutes in line before his turn came.

After topping off the gas tank, he pulled back out on the street and proceeded to the animal shelter. As he pulled into the parking lot, he noticed he was the only one there.
Great
, he thought,
how am I going to get into the shelter?

As he got out of the car, he could hear the dogs barking from within the building. He walked up to the front door, and to his surprise, the door was not locked. It should have been locked if no one was here.

Michael let himself inside and called, “Hello?”

Only the excited dogs answered him. Their fine-tuned hearing must have registered the sound of a car pulling into the parking lot.

Michael entered the little reception area where the workers and volunteers processed the paperwork. He looked for a volunteer schedule and didn’t find anything. After checking a list of phone numbers, he used the shelter’s phone and dialed the manager. Receiving no answer, he put the phone down.

Confused, he looked around for any sign that someone was scheduled to come in. The normal paid workers were not there. He tried another number on the list of people, and the phone just rang.

Concerned for the dogs, Michael let himself into the kennel area. His senses were almost immediately overwhelmed by the smell and noise. Walking down the corridor between the kennel cages, he saw that all the water bowls were empty and dirty. It didn’t look like the cages had been cleaned for days. And the dogs themselves looked as if they were thinner than normal.
When had they last been fed?

The kennel building had twenty cages. There were ten cages on each side of the concrete walkway. He passed mixed breeds, hound dogs, and a few German shepherds. Each cage had a chain that opened the door in the back concrete wall to allow the dog access to the outdoor run. At the very end of the corridor was a door that led outside to a fenced-in, grassy area where they could be walked or allowed to run around. Michael noticed that all but one of the cages contained dogs. The last one on the left was vacant.

Returning to the kennel entrance, he opened the storeroom door. He dragged a full fifty pound bag of dog food back into the corridor and filled each dog bowl. The hungry dogs gobbled up the food ravenously as he washed and filled up the water bowls with fresh water from the hose.

Then, one by one, Michael took each dog out of its cage and led them out to the fenced-in area. He let them run for a while as he hosed down each cage. He washed the urine and feces into the drainage channel; then, using a little splash of bleach, he scrubbed the cold concrete cage floor with a stiff scrubbing brush. After rinsing the cage, he placed the large fan where it would blow into the cage to expedite the drying process. He would start on the next cage while the previous cage dried. When the floor was sufficiently dry, he retrieved the now happy and fed dog and put it back in the cage.

It was a very time-consuming process, and it took at least fifteen minutes per cage. Working alone, he spent over five hours cleaning the cages. It was dark outside by the time he finished. He was tired. Before leaving, he refilled the water bowls and gave each dog an extra helping of dry dog food.

Exhausted, he left the kennel area and went back into the reception area, where he grabbed a blank piece of paper and wrote a long note, which he left in the center of the desk. He was just about to leave when he heard a whimper from behind one of the doors.

Michael went to the door of the quarantine area where new drop-offs and strays were brought in. He had originally thought it was empty, but when he opened the door, he saw there was one occupant.

The dog in the small cage looked like a border collie, but she was so dirty he wasn’t absolutely sure.

“Hey, girl,” he called out softly. “What are you doing locked up in here?”

At the sight of him, the dog started to get excited and wagged her tail furiously. She barked once and then stretched her legs.

Not wanting to startle the dog, Michael slowly approached and read the clipboard attached to the cage. He was right. She was a border collie mix. It said she was about two years old and had been found running around alone in the woods. It also stated that she had a collar that identified her as “Sandy.” Someone had tried the contact number on the collar, but the number had been disconnected.

Michael bent down to the level of the cage. “Hi, Sandy,” he said softly. “Are you hungry?”

In response, Sandy barked one time and wagged her tail.

Michael opened the cage door and let her out into the room. Rather than going straight for the door to escape like most other dogs would, Sandy came right up to Michael and sat down in front of him. She was so skinny that he could see her ribs through her dirty matted fur.

He reached down to pet her head, and she accepted it gratefully. Before he took his hand away, she gave his fingers a kiss.

He gave her a bowl of food, and while she inhaled it, he took her hastily scrawled paperwork and read it more thoroughly. He read that Sandy had just been brought in two days ago. He was shocked at the realization that these dogs had not been fed or cared for in two days.

After attaching a temporary leash around her skinny neck, Michael led her outside so she could do her business. As he walked her, he marveled at how well-behaved she was. She knew how to walk on a leash and she didn’t pull or try to run away like most dogs. Going on intuition, he gave Sandy a few simple commands. She wagged her tail, obeyed each command, and then looked at him, waiting to see what he would do next. Still marveling at the dog, Michael knew that someone had spent a lot of time and energy to train her. He didn’t know how someone could do that and then just give her up.

Leading her back inside, Michael bent over and picked her up in his arms. She let him lift her into the large tub. He then proceeded to give Sandy a bath using a flea-and-tick shampoo. As he shampooed her thick fur, she didn’t protest, but instead gave him a sorrowful look with her big, brown eyes. The dirt and forest bugs fled from her fur and fell into the tub, where they were rapidly whisked down the drain. As the dirt left, Michael saw that Sandy had a beautiful coat of white and rusty-red fur.

Finishing with the bath, he let Sandy get out of the tub and then offered her a dog biscuit. Sandy looked at the biscuit, then looked at Michael’s face and gave him a wet kiss.

Michael laughed as he wiped his face off, and Sandy chomped down on her treat. Once he had dried her as much as possible with a towel, he opened a little cabinet and took out a syringe and two tablets. The standard procedure was to deworm and give a rabies vaccination to all incoming dogs before they were put in the kennel. Michael hid the tablets in another treat, and Sandy gladly gobbled it up. As he injected her with the vaccine, Sandy flinched a little but remained still. Finally, he placed some flea preventative on her back.

Standing back and looking at Sandy, Michael thought he had done a decent job of cleaning her up. She stood there looking up at him with her big, brown eyes.

“Don’t do that to me,” Michael warned her.

She wagged her tail and smiled at him. He had heard that some people thought that dogs couldn’t smile. This dog was smiling at him.

He led Sandy to the last vacant cage in the kennel. As she passed by the other cages, the dogs inside went nuts. Sandy just ignored them and let Michael lead her to the last cage on the left. He shut her inside and then offered her one more dog biscuit before he left. She took the biscuit in her mouth and then dropped it on the floor of the cage. She looked up into Michael’s eyes and whimpered. It was as if she knew that Michael was about to leave.
Take me with you
, her eyes pleaded.

Michael turned away with a heavy, sad heart and walked out of the kennel. He felt like he was abandoning the dogs just as he had abandoned Wilbur at the pharmacy. Above the clamor of all the barking dogs, he heard Sandy give one last bark as he closed the kennel door.

As he drove away from the shelter, he was still thinking about Sandy and her big, sorrowful eyes.