A Dog-Gone Good Rescue

It was a pleasant summer morning in L.A. County, though the sun was already beating down with the promise of another scorching hot day. The bright, red engine of Station 51 had been called out for a dumpster fire. It turned out to be a minor incident, only requiring the use of the reel line. Even though it only took a short time to douse the flames, the four firefighters that made up the engine crew were quickly sweating under their heavy turnout coats and helmets. They were grateful that the overhaul was fast and simple so they could shed their fire protection gear before stowing away their equipment.

Firefighter Marco Lopez glanced at the green Chevy parked in the sun not too far away from the engine. When they had first arrived, he had seen a dog peering out the window. It had appeared to Marco that all the windows were closed up tight. The obligation of dealing with the dumpster fire had temporarily diverted his attentions. The urgency past, he could now address the additional situation.

Marco could see no sign of the dog and it concerned him. He knew it wouldn't take much for an animal to overheat in a car that had been left in the sun. The thought that somebody could have come and removed the dog while they had been busy crossed his mind, but the troublesome feeling wouldn't depart. The rescuer side of him wouldn't let him mount up until he checked things out.

He stowed his turnout coat and helmet in the engine before quickly trotting over to the car. The windows, he noticed vaguely, were cracked a couple of inches, but it was not enough to allow adequate ventilation. A long-haired, medium-sized mixed breed lay on the back seat of the car. The mutt was panting heavily, foam forming along its muzzle. Marco tried the door handles; he wasn't surprised to find them all locked.

"Cap!" He glanced behind him, his dark gaze locking onto his captain's tall frame. "Cap! Quick!"

Hearing the urgency in Marco's voice, Captain Hank Stanley quickly strode over to his crewman's side, the others following. "What've ya got here, Marco?"

"This dog is trapped in this car! He's overheating. Look!" He gestured to the animal before he quickly brushed past his crewmates and raced resolutely towards the engine.

It took only a moment for Hank to take charge of the situation. "Okay, Chet, get the—"

Before the captain could finish his sentence, however, Marco shouldered his way past his colleagues. He raised the axe he held in his hands and smashed the handle end into the car's front passenger window. Glass shattered. Marco swept the handle around the edge of the window frame to clear away the sharp bits that were left. Even before the last piece of glass could hit the ground, Marco had put aside the axe and was reaching in, unlocking the back door and opening it.

"Lopez! What are you doing?" Hank demanded.

"Saving this poor dog, Cap!" Marco climbed into the back seat.

"We were working on it."

"No time to waste!" was the Latino's simple response. He gently pulled the mutt into his arms and scooted out of the car.

Hank reached down and felt the animal's neck and ribcage. He could feel the heat radiating from the poor dog's thick fur coat. The dog was foaming at the mouth and breathing heavily. "Chet, grab the reel line. Let's fog this boy down."

"Right, Cap!" Firefighter Chet Kelly and Engineer Mike Stoker rushed to the engine to their assigned tasks.

Marco met his superior's brown eyes. "Thanks, Cap."

"I don't think the owner of the car will thank you, pal."

"I'll pay for the damages," the Latino firefighter promised as he moved quickly towards Big Red. He set the dog on the ground in the shade provided by the engine then knelt down and rubbed the animal's head, speaking encouragingly to him as Chet sprayed a gentle mist of water on the overheated canine.

Hank watched his men work for a moment. Knowing Marco's love of animals, he couldn't help but smile at his man's dedication. Seeing the others had things under control for the moment, the captain trotted over to the cab, opened the door, then reached in and pulled out the mike. "L.A., this is Engine 51."

"Go ahead, Engine 51."

"L.A., we have a dog suffering from heat prostration from being left in a locked car. Dispatch animal control to our location."

"10-4, Engine 51."

Hank replaced the mike before going to kneel at Marco's side. "How's he doing?"

"Not good, Cap," Marco replied worriedly. The firefighter didn't notice his pants and shoes were as drenched from the fine spray of water as his furry charge. "We need to get him to a vet."

"There's a veterinary clinic down the road about half a mile," Mike supplied from his position at the gauges.

Hank stood his full height. "Okay, Chet, stow the reel line. Mike, I want you and Marco to take this poor pooch to that vet clinic. Chet and I will wait here for animal control to arrive."

Mike helped Chet put away the reel line. The engineer quickly positioned himself behind the steering wheel as Marco gathered up the dog and rushed to the other side of the cab.

Hank opened the door. He relieved his firefighter of his burden long enough to allow him to climb into the air-conditioned interior of the engine then handed the comatose animal up to him. "Good luck, pal."

"Thanks, Cap," Marco answered. Though his face was grim, he managed a look of gratitude at his superior.

Hank offered a quick nod in acknowledgement before he closed the door. He stepped back and gestured with a quick sweep of his arm for Mike to move out. As the engine pulled away, emergency lights flashing, sirens blaring, Chet stepped up to his captain. Hank turned to face the shorter man and gave him a raised eyebrow, as if daring Chet to say something.

The Irishman obliged. "You're an old softie, Cap."

"Couldn't very well let that dog die now, could I, Chester B.?"

"No, no, of course not, Cap," came the quick rejoiner as the animal control vehicle pulled into the parking lot. As his superior walked ahead to meet the officers, Chet grinned. Quietly, he reiterated, "You're still an old softie, Cap!"

Marco opened the cab door even before Mike finished pulling the engine up to the curb in front of the veterinary clinic. His grip tightened on the dog in his arms as he jumped down from the cab and ran the distance to the door. The bell above the door jangled loudly as he burst into the waiting area. He hesitated but a moment until his searching eyes found the reception desk, then he hurried over and addressed the pretty redhead seated behind the desk.

Not wanting to sound like one of the countless hysterical victims his captain had had to deal with over the years, Marco paused, taking several deep breaths to calm himself so he could speak more clearly and professionally. "I'm with the L.A. County Fire Department. We rescued this dog from a closed-up car that was left in the sun. He's suffering from heat prostration."

The receptionist took one look at the unconscious dog before swiftly coming from behind the counter to transfer the animal from Marco's arms into her own. "Your name, sir?" she asked quickly.

"Lopez, Marco Lopez."

"Wait here, please."

With that curt response, she carried the dog through a door behind her into another part of the clinic. Marco turned away from the long counter. Seated in chairs were a couple of people: a mother and boy with a small terrier on a leash and an older woman with a cat in a carrier. The cat meowed plaintively, definitely not happy to be in his current predicament. Marco shivered slightly from the air conditioning; only then did he realize his pants were saturated with water. He shrugged then sat down a few chairs from the lady with the cat. She gave him an encouraging smile when he glanced her way, so he smiled and nodded before redirecting his gaze around the waiting area.

Soon, sitting became too much, so he jumped up and walked around to expend some of his nervous energy. A minute later, Mike entered the reception room. The engineer looked at him expectantly. "Anything?"

Marco shook his head. "They took him into the back, but no word yet."

Mike nodded understandably. He sat in a chair near the door, hoping to get the Latino to do the same. He knew how much Marco loved all animals and that risking a pet's life needlessly upset his crewmate. He watched silently as his friend paced the length of the room a couple more times before finally settling down in the seat next to the engineer.

Marco sat leaning over, his elbows resting on his knees, hands clasped together tightly. He glanced at Mike and smiled slightly to let the man know he appreciated his silent support.

Mike returned the smile with one of his own and a curt nod.

"I hope he's not too angry at me."

"Cap?" Mike chuckled. "Not over something like this."

"I was just so worried—"

"You did what you had to do, buddy," Mike said firmly. "Cap'll understand."

"You think?"

"Absolutely. Besides, you only beat Cap to the punch when you acted first."

Marco returned his attention to the far side of the room. The more he thought about it, the more he realized Mike was right. Hank Stanley might reprimand him for smashing the window without permission, but their captain couldn't have let the dog suffer any more than the rest of them. Realizing that, Marco knew he could accept any retribution that might be laid on him for his actions.

After several minutes passed, Station 51's second-in-command looked at his watch. "I better go pick up Cap and Chet," he stated, getting to his feet. Seeing Marco about to rise, he put a gently restraining hand on his shoulder. "You stay. We'll swing by and pick you up on the way back."

"Gracias, amigo," Marco answered.

"Da nada," the quieter man smiled. He gave his friend's shoulder a reassuring squeeze before leaving the clinic.

Marco waited a couple minutes more before he got to his feet and approached the reception desk. He glanced around, searching for the pretty redhead who had helped him earlier and had yet to return, then tapped the bell beside him. A few moments later, she came from the back room. She smiled reassuringly at him as she advanced; Marco took that as a good sign, but still asked anxiously, "How is he?"

"Dr. Ellis is with another client right now, but he's doing the best as can be expected. We're getting him cooled down, but won't know if there's any permanent harm for awhile yet."

Thinking of some of the medical things he'd learned since joining the fire service, especially while helping paramedics Roy DeSoto and John Gage work on people, he answered simply, "Of course." He glanced at the clock. "I've got to get back to work, could you have Dr. Ellis call me?" As he spoke, Marco grabbed a pen from a near-by pencil cup and one of the business cards in a small holder. "I'm on-shift until eight tomorrow morning."

The insistent blast of Big Red's airhorn sounded from outside. Marco quickly scribbled his name and some numbers on the back of the business card.

"I'll have Dr. Ellis call you when she gets a chance," the receptionist promised as she took the card from the firefighter.

"Thanks." Marco offered a quick smile before heading for the door.

As he approached the engine, Hank leaned over slightly in his seat, his right arm draped casually over the edge of the open cab window. "Any word yet?"

"They're treating him now, but it's too early to tell if there's going to be any permanent problems."

Hank acknowledged his crewman's answer with a quick nod before turning his attention to the radio, which had begun to beep prior to a call-out. Marco hurried to the other side of the engine and quickly climbed into position behind the driver's seat. He'd no sooner sat down than Mike was pulling Big Red, lights flashing and sirens blaring, back into traffic.

As the two firefighters pulled on their turnout coats, Chet gave his partner-on-the-hose a quick glance. "The dog's owner returned just as we were getting ready to come get you. The animal control officers were really reading him the riot act for leaving his dog in his car like that."

"Good!" Marco nodded sharply as he reached for his helmet. If that was me, I'd have thrown the manual at him. Literally.

The day turned out to be a busy one for Station 51. It seemed they barely got a chance to step off the engine when they were called out again. Around lunchtime, Marco only had time to make a quick call to the vet's office and found out the dog had regained consciousness and was resting comfortably. A three-alarm structure fire kept the station busy for most of the afternoon and early evening; the vet's office was closed by the time he thought to call again. With them having been so busy, Marco knew if Dr. Ellis had tried to contact him during the day, there would have been nobody at the station to take her call. He could only hope the scruffy mutt's prognosis remained good and he had suffered no long-term health problems due to his unthinking owner.

Buttoning up his blue uniform shirt, Marco stepped into the dayroom the morning of his next shift. Seems I'm the late one this morning, he thought as he paused briefly to take in the scene before him. Johnny and Roy were both seated at the kitchen table, sections of the day's newspaper opened in front of them. Chet was stepping away from the counter with a mug of fresh, hot coffee in his hand. Mike was reaching into a box of donuts that sat on the table.

"Morning, Marco," the engineer greeted before he bit into his breakfast.

"Morning," the Latino firefighter acknowledged as he made his way to the coffeepot. He picked up a clean mug and poured himself some of the delicious-smelling brew.

"Any word on your furry friend?" Chet queried as he dropped onto the couch with the mug in one hand, a donut in the other. Tail wagging in hopes of receiving a piece of the breakfast morsel, Henry immediately moved onto his favorite human's lap. Chet set aside his coffee before automatically giving the basset an ear scratch.

Marco turned from the coffeepot. He'd already answered the question for a couple members of C-shift in the locker room, but didn't mind answering it again, though the generous smile on his face said it all. "He's fine! Dr. Ellis, that's the vet who took care of him, doesn't think there's any brain damage."

"That's good to hear," Roy smiled, looking up from the newspaper article he was reading.

Hank entered the room in time to hear Marco's comments. "That's terrific news," he commented. He held out a business envelope. "This was left for you."

"For me?" Marco set aside his mug. He took the envelope, untucking the unsealed flap to peer inside. There he found a small stack of cash, mostly fives and tens. "What's this?"

"Well, the guys here took up a collection to help pay the vet bill and the cost of replacing the car window," Hank stated as he helped himself to some coffee. "When the other shifts heard about what you'd done, they decided to help out, as well."

Marco could only stare at the money for a long moment. Finally, he looked up. He met each co-worker's gaze before smiling gratefully. "I don't know what to say, but thanks."

"That says it all, pal," Hank smiled. He gave Marco a quick pat on the shoulder, then walked over to the table to pick up a free section of the paper. He glanced at the headline before dropping it back onto the table. As he walked towards the door, he announced, "Roll call, five minutes."

"That's it," Hank stated, dropping the pages back onto the clipboard as he glanced at each of his men standing in front of the squad. "Any questions?"

"Is Marco Lopez in today?"

All six firefighters straightened and turned at the feminine voice. A woman with long, dark hair was standing near the back of the vehicles. In her hand she held a leash, at the end of which was a familiar furry dog. Tail wagging happily, the mongrel tugged against the lead.

"Hey, Marco," Mike observed, "isn't that the dog you rescued the other day?"

"It is!" Marco stepped over to their visitors. He held out his hand. "Good morning. I'm Marco Lopez."

The woman took his hand in a brief, but firm, grasp. "Nice to meet you, Mr. Lopez. I'm Dr. Sharon Ellis. I thought you'd like to see how your rescue victim is doing."

The Latino knelt and managed to give the canine a quick scratch behind the ears before he was bombarded with dog kisses. He laughed before gently pushing the mutt back. "He seems to be doing well."

"He's doing great, as you can see."

Marco continued to pet the dog. "You did a great job, Dr. Ellis."

"Sharon, please."

"Sharon it is, then." He smiled as he stood his full height and met her gaze, finding himself caught up in her dark eyes and pretty smile. The spell was broken a few seconds later when he heard a throat being cleared. He craned his neck to see his shiftmates standing quietly behind him. "I'm sorry! Sharon, these are my co-workers."

Marco made introductions, pleased to see that she didn't seem taken with the obvious grin-flashing flirtations of Chet and Johnny. The others gave the friendly dog some cursory pats and ear-rubs.

"Your men did a fine job, Captain Stanley," Sharon remarked as she shook his hand. "Much longer and he may have suffered permanent brain damage."

"It was Marco's quick actions that saved him."

She smiled at the Latino firefighter. "I figured as much."

Hank's eyebrows arched at the obvious attraction between his crewman and the lady vet. Glancing at the others, he realized their interest in one another wasn't lost on Roy or Mike. Chet and Johnny, on the other hand, didn't seem to notice. Those two are so busy competing with each other, it doesn't surprise me. Ah, well, they'll figure it out soon enough.

"I'm glad he's doing all right." Marco reached down again to scratch the mongrel behind the ears.

"Yes, I just can't figure people out sometimes, leaving a dog in a car parked in the sun."

"I know just what you're talking about," Chet chimed in. "We get it all the time on our runs! I'm glad that animal control officer chewed him out."

Marco threw his partner-on-the-hose a disgruntled look, for he knew his friend was doing his usual job of sucking up. Bad enough he does it to Cap!

"Well, after the lecture the man got from animal control, he decided he didn't want the dog anymore."

"What?" Marco protested. He paused in rubbing the dog's ears. "What happens to him now? Is he up for adoption?"

"No." She shook her head. Seeing the look of horror cross Marco's handsome face, she quickly clarified, "He's not up for adoption because I took him."

Marco let out a sigh of relief. "That's great!"

"What did you name him?" Chet pounced on the opening.

"Afortunato." She smiled at the Latino. "I figured it was appropriate."

"Afortunato?" Hank queried.

"It's Spanish for 'lucky,'" Marco supplied, returning the vet's smile. "I think it's more than appropriate."

"Sharon, would you like a cup of coffee?" Johnny asked.

Sharon glanced at the paramedic. "No, thank you, I have to get to work."

"Speaking of work—" Leaving the rest of his directive unspoken, Hank regarded his crew steadfastly.

They didn't have to be told twice. The firefighters bid good-bye to the lady veterinarian before heading for their respective chores.

Marco was just preparing to add his farewells when she asked, "May I speak with you a minute?"

The hose jockey glanced at his captain. Hank smiled slightly and nodded before striding towards his office.

"I won't keep you. I was just wondering if you're off tomorrow night?"

"I am. Would you like to do something together?"

"Well, I was thinking we could take Afortunato to the park for a long walk. There's a nice little café there, we could get a quick dinner or something. That is," she added, almost uncertainly, "if you'd like to go."

"I'd love to."

"Great, I'll see you then."

"I'll call later and we can set up a time."

"Okay." She started to leave, but only got a few steps when she turned, closed the distance between them and kissed him lightly on the cheek. Sharon smiled at his surprised expression then, gripping Afortunato's leash a bit more tightly, she quickly strode between the two rescue vehicles towards the back door.

Mike paused behind his friend. "Looks like Afortunato's not the only lucky dog around here."

Marco's gaze followed Sharon out the door. "I guess sometimes it pays to be a hero."

"A dog-gone good rescue it was, too."

Lopez groaned, glancing over his shoulder. "Aren't you supposed to be cleaning the dorm?" His tone was flippant.

As Mike walked towards the dorm and six sets of bedding that needed changing, he heard his colleague start to hum "How Much is That Doggy in the Window?" The engineer grinned, shaking his head. No, my friend, it's more "And They Call it Puppy Love."

1/7/2003

Author's Note: Though this is a fictional account, Dr. Ellis is the name of a real veterinarian: my own. She saved one of my ferrets, Duncan McFerret, when he had a very serious bladder infection that could have cost him his life. This is my small way of saying "thanks" yet again to this fantastic vet. This story came about due to a heat 'wave' in the Chicago area, one of my pet peeves being critters left in hot cars, and knowing that the real Marco Lopez loves animals. Anybody who will admit to being an animal friend is a-okay in my book! Good on ya, Marco!! This story is dedicated to you!

Thanks to my beta-readers, Audrey and Peggy, for their suggestions and to my friend and E! partner-in-crime, Crystal, for the title.

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