Hookworm

I sat on the porch watching that man with the long gloves up the length of his arm go to the back of his truck, taking out more boxes. Whatever was happening here, it wasn’t good. Two cows had already been rounded up and moved to a different pasture. I needed to investigate.

With resolve, I stood and stretched, descending the wooden steps of the porch. I trotted purposefully towards the barn, my master Jake observing from a safe distance. I nuzzled against his leg, a silent reassurance of my readiness to uncover the truth that lay within.

“Whoa, boy, you can’t go in there. Go back to the house,” Jake said.

I looked up at him, and he knelt in front of me, running his hand from one ear to the next. I loved the feel of this ritual he always did, taking the itchiness away.

He grabbed onto my collar and tugged me back toward the farmhouse. I tried to stand my ground, but he was insistent, and I didn’t want to disappoint him.

“Jake, get Charlie out of here. We don’t want him to catch hookworm too.”

“Ok, dad. How are the rest of the cows?”

“Doc says they are showing signs. We didn’t move the others quick enough,” Jake’s dad said.

“As long as the horses and Charlie are all right, the antibiotics should kick in soon, right?”

His father nodded.

“Come on, boy, let’s go,” Jake told me.

I followed along, sniffing and wondering what hookworm was. Was I going to catch it? Would they send me away too? I realized then that whatever Jake asked of me, I would do. I didn’t want to give up my spot on the foot of the bed for the cold outdoors.

Jake climbed the stairs and sat in the rocking chair facing the bar. I circled the porch then plopped down at his feet, watching the doctor and Jake’s dad, going from the barn to the truck, and then over to the stables.

Jake petted my head again. “Hope the horses are ok,” he muttered. I could tell he was worried. I didn’t like it when Jake worried.

I barked loudly, agreeing with him.

WC: 367