Chapter Eighteen: For the Dog
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Brianne spent the beginning of her day off at the vet clinic with Selma. She was concerned for the elderly dog, who seemed to be gietting sick more often, and hoped it wasn't anything too serious. She wasn't ready to lose Selma, and didn't think she ever would be. But she knew the time would come, because Selma had been an adult when she was adopted, back when Taro was a baby. Selma's loss would devastate everoyne in the famly. It was too bad she'd never had puppies would might have helped.
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There was no need to worry this day, as the vet quickly diagnosed and treated a case of sizzlepaws and Selma was soon back to her old self.
"Good girl," Brianne praised after thanking the vet, crouching to hug the dog. The price was steep but they could afford it, for which she was grateful. She and Harry would do whatever it took to keep Selma healthy as long as possible.
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Back home, Brianne took Selma for a jog, knowing both of them could use the exercise.
Selma voiced her approval of the plan with loud barking and jumping around in excitement.
Brianne laughed. "Glad to see you're so energetic," she told Selma, smiling. She doubted there would be too many more days like this, when Selma was so alert and active, so she intended to enjoy every moment.
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Harry woke with a song in his head and didn't even bother to get dressed before sitting down at his keyboard to play. He really wanted a full size piano for this one, but he supposed the keyboard would have to do. He already knew this one would be dedicated to Selma as a celebration of the dog's life from the day she had come to live with them. Trouble she might be, and difficult to train, but he loved her just the same.
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Brianne returned form her jog feeling good about herself as well as hungry. She quickly showered, then showed off her culinary skills while making clam chowder even though there was no one around to see. She could hear Harry playing his keyboard upstairs, and smiled, appreciating how much his talent had improved. It wouldn't be long before he was a well known and respected musician at the top of his career, she was sure.
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Harry finished his song with Selma watching but thankfully not howling along - quite possibly because that would have required her to put her ball down, he thought with some humor.
"Thanks for being so patient, Selma," he said, taking the ball. "You know that song was about you, don't you?"
"Bark!" Selma answered, watching him expectantly.
Harry laughed. "What's that, it's time for a game of fetch? All right, go get it." he said, tossing the ball down the length of the loft, careful not to hit his guitar and violin.
Selma raced after it and brought it back, tail wagging happily.
Harry threw the ball again, willing to continue as long as the game kept Selma out of Brianne's way while she cooked. They did not need a repeat of the time she had tripped over the silently watching dog and hit her head on the dishwasher. Fortunately, nothing was broken, though she did have a headache for hours.
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"Hi, Mom. That smells good," Viviana said as she entered, zeroing in on the clam chowder. She scooped up a bowl and took into the living room to eat, needing to unwind after a long day at school.
"Hi, Vivi. How was school?" Brianne asked.
"Good." Viviana called over her shoulder.
Mai trudged in behind her sister and wordlessly headed for bed.
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Having fed her human family members, Brianne decided Selma could use a little extra pampering and prepared gourmet pet food for the dog.
Selma watched, knowing she was about to get a treat.
She seemed to be keeping far enough back to avoid tripping Brianne, but just the same, Brianne kept a careful eye on her.
Once the marinated sausage link chorizo was ready, Brianne transferred it to a plate and put it down for her beloved pet, who lapped it right up happily. Brianne smiled, watching her.
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Mai woke wanting her dinner, and Brianne joined her, hungry herself. She had somehow managed to forget to have lunch, busy with Selma as she was.
"We learned about clams in science the other day," Mai announced, looking at her bowl of chowder.
"What did you learn?" Brianne asked, enjoying the conversation, especially Mai's take on all she had learned.
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Mai worked on her homework after dinner, joined by Taro with his dinner. The teen had the day off from school and hand spent most of it in bed, having been awake much too early after a late night.
"Will I get to skip school on my thirteenth birthday?" Mai asked her big brother impishly.
"Depends what day it falls on, I think. Viviana didn't," Taro answered.
"Oh. What about Mom and Dad?"
Taro shrugged. "I don't know. Ask them."
"Okay, I will."
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Selma followed Brianne into the upstairs bathroom and kept looking back and forth between her and the bath expectantly.
Brianne got a whiff of her and noticed her fur was smudged with dirt. At least she hoped it was only dirt. "I can tell how badly you need a bath if you're actually asking for one," Brianne said. "In you go." she moved the curtain aside and waited, glad Selma was still able to jump in on her own. She was't entirely sure she could lift the dog in if she had to.
Selma stepped into the bath and waited patiently, not trying to get away or splash very much.
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Once Selma had been dried off and released to find her favorite toy, Brianne checked on her children, finding Taro working on his homeowrk alone at the table. "Taro, do you need some help?"
"Yes, please, Mom, thanks. I feel stupid."
"You're not stupid, this is just new to you. Don't worry, it'll get easier," Brianne said. "Now what are you working on?"
Taro told her, and she listened closely, giving him directions but careful not to do the work for him.
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Feeling more confident after succefully copleting his homework and having a good talk with Brianne, Taro decided to try a power sculpting workout. He wasn't ready for bed, having slept so late, and this was a perfect, productive way to pass the time.
Because there was only room for one of them to exercise at a time, Brianne listened to the stereo instead, occasionally calling advice to Taro, which he appreciated and listened to.
