Life Guards in the Hamptons (18 page)

He said, “Anyone who cares that much about her animals deserves to be near them. They’ll all recover better that way.”

“Got it. Oh, yeah, the dogs’ names are Maggie, Molly, and Moses. They’ve got paragraph-long pedigree names, but that’s what Mrs. Winters calls them. Moses was her grandfather’s name, from what she told the crew on the cutter between crying jags.”

“Good to know. They’ll respond better to their names, too.”

We left. The fire captain got us an escort, with sirens, even, now that the number of rescues had slowed down to a trickle. So we got through the checkpoints with no trouble, sped across the causeway to Star Island and pulled up at the big white building with time enough to spare for breakfast.

Matt ate standing up. We all did, because the three young guardsmen, Sean, Luther, and Ramon, had laid a blue tarp across the large dining room tables shoved together, then made mounds of blankets on them.

“They’re warm from the clothes dryer,” Ramon, who looked like he’d just graduated from high school said. “With more waiting.”

“Great thinking,” Matt said, taking off his sweatshirt. I did, too, already sweating in the heat they’d turned up.

Another of the young men in uniform, Luther, had his foot in a cast, and the third, Sean, said he was on sick leave due to Lyme disease, but he’d come in anyway to help man the station. The senior citizen couple introduced themselves as the Dwyers. They had a yellow lab themselves, so they were eager to help.

In minutes, it seemed, the sleek black-hulled speedboat tore through the harbor, its air horn blaring. The captain had no concern about making a wake; he had the harbor patrol boat right beside him, bullhorn blaring orders to other boats to get out of the way, rescue in progress.

The guardsmen had the boat tied to the dock in seconds. The healthy one, Ramon, jumped down and started
helping the captain, who told us to call him Frankie, unbuckle the dogs from the leather bench seats.

“Heated, don’t you know,” Frankie said, handing the first dog up to Sean, who looked too weak from the Lyme disease to carry anything heavier than a cell phone, but he managed. “And didn’t want them bouncing around on the deck.”

A redhead next to him snapped out: “But it was okay that I had nothing to hang on to.”

“You hung on to me real good, sugar,” said Frankie, grinning at her. He handed the second dog to Matt, since Luther had to lean on one crutch.

Ramon handed me the last dog. I almost staggered under the weight—I refused to call it dead weight—of the limp, sodden bundle in my arms. The dog must weigh fifty or sixty pounds, and these were puppies! I couldn’t feel any sign of life before the first seaman, Ramon, jumped out of the low boat and took the animal from me.

“What about me?” the redhead in her black spandex dress complained.

“I’ve got you, sugar,” the middle-aged boat owner purred as he handed her up to the dock, then her high-heeled slingbacks, then an enormous leather purse. Frankie had a gold chain around his neck that could have doubled as an anchor cable, a pinky ring that glittered like the last star in the morning sky, and coal-black hair from Grecian Formula.

The elderly volunteer and Luther both stepped forward to take Tina’s hand, but Mrs. Dwyer got there first. She told her husband to take the purse while Tina put on her shoes.

Mrs. Dwyer had Tina’s ID bracelet all printed out. “You need to wear this, miss. So they know where you are and your condition. I’m to call your arrival in to the firehouse.”

I could see she felt important, as if fixing a paper bracelet on a prima donna was worth giving up a night’s sleep.

Tina looked at Matt, who ignored her entirely, hurrying after the two Coasties with their dogs. She noted the
age of the young men and the weathered Mr. Dwyer. Then she looked back at the cigarette boat and its owner. She flashed him a million-dollar smile, or maybe a half million, if that’s what the boat cost. “Do you think I can stay with you tonight, Frankie?” She gave a helpless hand wave at her high heels and the boards under them. “I’ll only get in the way here.”

“Wouldn’t have it any other way, doll.”

The auxiliary oldster got to help Tina back down to the low boat. I was afraid he’d have a heart attack. Luther hobbled around getting the lines untied and Frankie waved good-bye, a wide smile on his bronzed face.

Another match made in heaven.

The young men and Matt had the dogs on the tables, wrapped in warm blankets while Matt listened to their heartbeats, checked their pulses, looked in their mouths, felt their stomachs, and pulled their eyelids open. He didn’t say anything. I was afraid to ask.

He took thermometers out of his tote bag, and a small jar. “We need to take their temperatures before we go any further.”

He handed me a thermometer.

“Um …”

“No, you don’t put it under its tongue, Willy. Shove it up its ass, but gently.”

Oh, my. Luckily, Mrs. Dwyer took over. “I had four children, dear. I know what to do. You hold the tail up.”

We got it done and Matt looked relieved. “They’re not beyond help. No telling if they warmed up in the boats, or if there will be permanent damage from lack of circulation to their brains. But we have something to work with.”

He took out lengths of rubber tubing.

Lord, were we going to have to do hot water enemas like he and Jenny discussed? I wasn’t any hothouse flower like the Tinas of the world, but I didn’t know if my stomach could take that.

Thank goodness I didn’t have to find out. Matt slipped nooses of the tubing over each muzzle.

“But they’re not moving!”

“I know, but they’ll be in pain when the blood flows back into their limbs, like when you get pins and needles. We’re strangers and they won’t understand we’re trying to help. Even the gentlest dog can react badly.” He gave each a shot of antibiotic. “As a precaution. You never know what was in the water with them.”

He held out three plastic pouches for Sean to run under hot water at the kitchen sink while he started IV lines. “It’s only saline, but it’ll help. Anyone got a shaver so I can get down to bare skin to find a vein?”

Ramon ran to get his. He brought back a blow dryer, too. Mr. Dwyer took that and started working on whichever dog Matt wasn’t handling.

Matt had me hold the paw while he taped the needle in place on the first dog’s front leg. I read the tag on the leather collar while he worked and Luther, on one crutch, held the dog steady, just in case it woke up. Mr. Dwyer kept the blow dryer going and Mrs. Dwyer kept rubbing the other two with heated towels.

“This one is Mollie,” I told them. “She looks the smallest.”

“And weakest and coldest. That’s why I started on her first.”

Next came Maggie. I thought I heard a whimper when the needle went in. “Good girl. We’re making you better. You’ll see. Dr. Matt won’t let you get pneumonia like that fou-fou Yorkie.”

“That’s it, Willy. Keep talking. Channel your mother for me.”

I gave him a sour look, while the Dwyers and the guardsmen appeared curious. “My mother has a way with dogs, that’s all. She’s written books about it.”

And she was in Florida. Not in my head.

Everyone went back to work. Rubbing, talking, starting the IVs, holding the saline pouches elevated until Ramon dragged in two floor lamps and a clothes tree. We put baggies of hot—not boiling water—on bare skin where we could find it on the shaggy animals. They looked like bearskin rugs for all the life in them. But we had hope.

The biggest pup was Moses, and he opened one eye when I talked to him. “He’s going to make it!”

“They all are.”

Except Mollie didn’t seem to be warming up like the others. Matt had packed for the emergency and had a longer length of thicker tubing. “I’m going to have to fill her stomach with warm water. She’s going to bring it back up.”

The seamen in their uniforms stepped back. I had to step forward, with my clean clothes and buckets and towels, to hold her up. I felt bad. Poor Mollie almost drowned, and might have swallowed half an ocean for all we knew. Now she had a tube down her throat filling her up with more water.

She brought it up, all right, and peed, too. That I was used to, from Little Red, but not the gallons.

“It’s a good sign. The kidneys are working.”

“Here, miss, I’ll take over.”

I was astounded to see Frankie back, coming to help. We all looked around for Tina, who’d be as out of place here as an angora cat.

Frankie laughed. “I’ve got her all right and tight at my rooms at the Yacht Club. She’ll be in the Jacuzzi for another hour, I’d guess. That’ll warm her up enough to call down to the boutique. They’re ready to bring her some clothes to choose from, on my tab.”

“That’s really generous of you, Mr., er, Frankie.”

“Oh, I put a limit on the credit card, but the girl could have died in that wild storm. She deserves some pretty things, doesn’t she? ’Sides, I’m betting she’ll be real grateful.”

He winked. I couldn’t help laughing, despite myself. Here was this middle-aged Lothario, not making the least effort to conceal his true persona, unlike me, the Visualizer. I was even afraid to mention Paumanok Harbor.

I didn’t have to. Frankie only wanted to know about the dogs. “These guys valuable, Doc?”

“Very, I’d guess. They’re good-looking pups from what I can see, excellent conformation. If someone is paying to have them delivered from New York to Nova
Scotia by luxury liner, rather than ship them in the cargo hold of an airplane, you can bet they’re paying plenty.”

“Like how much?” Frankie persisted.

“Dogs like this? It depends on the parents and the show quality and the temperament of course. I’m no judge, but I’d guess four, five thousand. Maybe more for the male, for stud purposes.”

He kept stroking poor Mollie, who was having her temperature taken again. Matt seemed pleased. He left her with Frankie and rechecked Moses and Maggie. Now that they were almost dried, I could see how big the boy dog was, far larger than his sisters. I was happy I hadn’t had to carry him. By the time he reached a year, no one could. Matt said he wouldn’t reach his full growth until he was two, at least.

He moved some, then tried to lick Matt. “There’s the boy. What a good dog. I’ll bet you don’t need this anymore.” He took the muzzle noose away. Moses shook his head, sending drool and sandy salt water flying. He tried to crawl to the edge of the table, closer to Matt.

“I’m right here, big guy, but you need to warm up a little more, then we can take you to my house. I’ll build you a fire, and you guys can share a mattress on the floor.”

He looked over at me. “The kennels have cold cement floors and I’ve got a couple of sick dogs there. I’ll need to watch them for hours anyway. Then Mrs. Winters can take over if she’s up to it.”

I offered to help, too, and the Dwyers gave their phone number. Frankie said he’d be over in a flash, or he’d hire a dog sitter.

Now Maggie started to stir and we all cheered. Moses whimpered when Matt left, but I tried to console him. “You’ll have a good home of your own soon, with people who wanted you badly enough to pay more than a used car for you.” Not that money meant a good home, but it beat eating the cheapest brand of dog food and sleeping outside. “I bet you’re hungry, too. Big guys like you must eat three times a day.”

“We’ll wait till we get them back to the house, to
make sure their stomachs can handle it. You can give these two a sip of water, to see.”

Frankie wouldn’t leave little—relatively little—Mollie. “Come on, sugar. You can make it. Then Uncle Frankie can take you home. You’ll like Westchester way better than Nova Scotia, won’t you? And riding in the boat, with the wind in your hair? It’s black, so you’ll match. We’ll be hot stuff, you’ll see. And I can trade in the Porsche for a Land Rover, so you’ll have more room.”

I didn’t have the heart to tell him a lot of dogs got seasick. Hell, I got seasick. Or that a Newfoundland loved the snow and cold, and did poorly in the heat. I felt I did have to remind him that the dogs were all sold.

He laughed. “Not if I offer double. I saved this little girl. I get a chance to keep her.”

Kind of like Tina.

Matt said, “I’ll talk to Mrs. Winters when she’s well enough. I’ll give her your number and you can talk. But you know the dog might be damaged, her brain affected.”

“Yeah, well she still needs a good home, doesn’t she? And I can afford vet bills and doggie day care if she needs it. ’Sides, maybe the buyers won’t want her now.”

“Maybe. Especially if they were counting on showing her.”

Mrs. Dwyer asked, “What about Miss D’Angelo?”

“Who? Oh, Tina? They come and go. But a dog …” He sighed. “I had a Newfie when I was a kid. Bigger’n I was in all the pictures. I gotta have this dog.”

I figured Frankie usually got whatever he wanted, but he did seem to love the dog, so maybe it wouldn’t be a bad idea.

Then he tried to pay Matt, who got kind of offended and said there’d be no charge to anyone.

“What about your time and efforts, Doc? They would have died without you.”

“Everyone gave their all tonight. No one expects to be paid.”

“Yeah, I saw that. But I can afford more than most. How about a donation?”

“Fine, and much appreciated. The volunteer fire departments always need money. The boatman’s association, to help pay for all the gas those guys used. There must be some fund in Montauk to help pay for all the food and stuff the survivors and the volunteers ate. Closer to us, they’re trying to establish a horse ranch in Paumanok Harbor. Jobs for the local kids, homes for wild ponies from overpopulated Federal lands.”

“And a camp for handicapped children,” I put in.

Frankie nodded, one hand rubbing Mollie’s ear. “Sounds good. I went to the horse show they held to make money for that ranch. Hey, weren’t you the woman the cowboy dedicated his show to?”

“Uh … not quite.”

“Sure you are. I never forget a pretty woman, even when she’s dressed like something the cat dragged in.”

I tried to finger comb my hair, uselessly.

“That was some night, wasn’t it? Except the end. We got herded out of the VIP tent faster than those border collies herded the sheep.”