Dr. Ade was in the waiting room, talking with Maggie. Maggie glanced at Jenner and Deb as they came out of the bathroom, then turned to the vet.
Doctor Ade said, “He’s pretty lucky he’s a fat, hairy thing—that extra padding probably saved his life. One of the projectiles breached the chest cavity—there was some subcutaneous emphysema and a small hemopneumothorax. I put in a chest tube, drained a little blood, and the lung seems to have expanded nicely.”
Jenner said, “Is he going to be okay?”
“I don’t know how extensive the injuries in the thorax are, but I want to avoid opening the chest unless I absolutely have to; the shrapnel injuries are probably shallow, but any lung damage from the shock wave could get worse if I do a thoracotomy. I’ve packed the chest, sealed the wounds. I’m going to see how he does like that.”
She looked Jenner in the eye. “Your dog’s not out of the woods yet—he’s lost a lot of blood, and he’s not a puppy anymore—but I’m hopeful.”
Jenner shook her hand and said, “Thanks, doctor, I understand. I really appreciate it.” He turned to Maggie and said, “Thanks, Maggie.”
She nodded, then stood and draped her wrap around her shoulders. “I should get home. Lucy’s with Rosa; I don’t like to leave her alone for too long.”
She barely glanced at Deb as she swept out, but her glance was long enough for her to appraise and judge.