He made it to the Caliente Veterinary Hospital in thirty-five minutes, near record time. A regular customer, he pulled around to a back door. That one wasn’t used by the town customers who brought theirpampered pets into the reception area up front. He was in no mood to deal with dogs that looked like dustmops on stubby legs or ill-tempered cats and their fussy female owners. As he strode down the hall, someone stepped out of an examination room into his path.
“Hold on a minute. Just where do you think you’re going? Customers are supposed to check in with reception up front. We can’t have every Tom, Dick, and Harry traipsing through here.”
Damon almost bowled over the shorter man. The other man caught his balance by grabbing a door jamb.
“I ain’t Tom, and I damn well don’t have a hairy dick. Where’s Doc Palmer? I’ve got an injured dog out in my truck, a working dog. She needs care right away.”