Without taking time to ask any more questions, he followed her quickly downstairs. He assessed the situation with the dog in one quick glance, then knelt on one side of the trapped pet while she crouched on the other side. “Looks like I’m going to have to get some tools. Where does Seth keep his?”
“In the garage storage room.” She stroked a hand down the dog’s back, feeling the muscles quivering beneath her palm. “I’ll stay here with him.”
“Okay, be right back.”
It took maybe ten minutes for them to free the dog once Mitch returned with a bag of tools. Jacqui assisted him by holding a flashlight and keeping Waldo calm. She wanted to think she could have handled the situation alone if she’d had to, but she was greatly relieved that Mitch seemed to know exactly what to do.
“Is he okay?” she asked, leaning over Mitch’s shoulder.
“Let me get him inside in the light where I can see better.” Mitch stood, lifting the sixty-pound Lab mix in his arms as easily as if he were picking up a bag of flour. Still weary from the ordeal, Waldo lay limply against Mitch’s chest, the tip of his feathery tail wagging in gratitude.
Jacqui and Mitch were both barefoot, so she wasn’t surprised when he stumbled a little and cursed beneath his breath on the way toward the house. He righted himself quickly and kept walking to the open back door. She placed her own feet carefully as she followed behind him.
Mitch set the dog carefully on the kitchen floor. “I’m no veterinarian, but I don’t see any problems,” he said a moment later.
“There’s blood on his neck,” Jacqui said, her fingers laced tightly in front of her. Alice loved this dog so much, she thought with a catch in her throat. And Alice wasn’t the only one fond of the silly, accident-prone mutt.
“He scraped himself trying to pull free. It’s not deep, no need for stitches. If you’ll find me a first aid kit, I’ll take care of it.”
Grateful for something to do, she hurried to get the kit. There was nothing in this house she couldn’t locate if necessary.
By the time she returned to the kitchen only minutes later, Waldo was already regaining his usual spirit. He was on his feet, wiggling and expressing his gratitude to Mitch with eager swipes of his tongue.
Chuckling, Mitch fended off the wet kisses, glancing up wryly at Jacqui when she opened the first aid kit. “I think we can safely say he’ll be fine.”
She watched as he dabbed antibiotic ointment on Waldo’s scrapes. “I’m so glad. I swear that dog has more lives than a cat. If you only knew some of the messes he’s gotten himself into.”
“I’ve heard a few of them.”
“Do you think he’d be stupid enough to stick his head in that hole again tonight?”
“Absolutely,” Mitch answered with a laugh.
She sighed. “Then I guess he’ll spend the rest of the night—what little there is of it—in the garage until I can get out in the sunlight tomorrow to check the fence.”
Mitch scratched the dog’s ears, eliciting a blissful tail wag. “He was just exploring. Found an opening and just had to see what was on the other side, right, Waldo?”
Mitch sounded as though he identified all too well with that sentiment.
Comfortable that Waldo had recovered from his ordeal, Jacqui shooed him into the garage, telling him she’d be back in a minute with his food and water dishes and a blanket on which he could rest for his next misadventure. Closing the door into the garage, she turned back to the kitchen.
Mitch stood by the sink, washing his hands. Jacqui frowned when she saw a smudged trail of blood on the tile floor. “I didn’t think Waldo bled that much from that little scrape. Maybe there’s another—”
And then she realized exactly where the trail led. “Mitch, you’re bleeding!”
He glanced down, frowned, then lifted his right foot so he could see the sole. “Well, yeah, I guess I am.”
She reached for the first aid kit again. “Sit down, let me look at it.”
“That’s not— Okay, sure.”
She wasn’t certain what caused his sudden change of mind, but she didn’t ask. She merely knelt in front of him when he plopped into one of the kitchen chairs. She lifted his bleeding right foot into her hands to examine the cut on his heel. “I don’t think it’s too deep,” she said in relief.
“I think I stepped on one of Waldo’s toys when I was carrying him in. That’s what I get for going outside without shoes, I guess.”
“We both did. Silly dog scared me half to death.”
She moved to the sink to retrieve a clean washcloth, which she moistened and then carried back to where he sat. She hesitated a moment before kneeling in front of him again. It had suddenly struck her that it was after 3:00 a.m., they were alone in a mostly darkened house, she wore a nightshirt and jeans and Mitch only a pair of pajama bottoms. The intimacy of that situation made her a bit nervous all of a sudden.