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dwindling supply of treats was one way to keep her occupied within
Desio’s
restrictive confines. One game was to place her in a ‘sit-stay’ while I discovered new and clever places (including the crew’s cabins if their doors were open) to hide dry kernels of food. She never failed to find each and every one. My crewmates (all right, maybe not Melhaus) found this entertaining, welcoming Angie’s inquisitive visits.
    Another diverting trick I taught her was to sneak into Thompson’s cabin, snatch a T-shirt off his bed, and scamper back to me for a waiting morsel. What made this antic more enjoyable were the profanities hurled in our direction from down the corridor. I don’t think Thompson really minded the temporary abduction of a shirt. Why else would he consistently leave one in the same exact location?
    To amuse Kelly, I had Angie sit in rapt attention while I held out two closed hands, a treat hidden in one of them. A gentle paw was placed on the hand with the treat, followed by the weighty stare of two beady little eyes. “Good Angie,” I said, chuckling as she gently plucked the morsel off my open palm.
    “You love Angie,” Kelly said matter-of-factly, watching us interact.
    “You could say that,” I responded.
    An odd look of bemusement came to Kelly’s face. “I do, too,” she said, and was about to say something more, reconsidered, then began scratching the base of Angie’s tail. The exact best spot, you could tell, because it sent Angie drifting narcotically into space, snout pointed upward, her abbreviated tail cocked so far to one side it almost appeared broken.
    Rapture.
    Kelly and I had ours. Angie was entitled to her own.
    I decided to use the opportunity of being out of earshot from the crew to get Kelly’s opinion on how the crew was faring during the long outbound voyage. Specifically, I wondered if she had observed, as I had, behavioral changes too insignificant to bother Thompson with.
    She was the right person to ask. Graduating near the top of her class and completing her residency training, she had gone on to fulfill her life-long ambition of opening a family medicine practice. Daily contact with a diverse patient population had honed an innate talent to read people, both by what they said and, more often, by what they failed to say. I sometimes wondered to what extent she applied that particular skill to me.
    I had an ulterior motive for inquiring about my crewmates. Examining my own feelings of isolation (always present, but voyage-accentuated) I discovered a potential cause applicable to all. My primary concern was Melhaus. I didn’t say as much to Kelly. Singling him out might, in some subconscious way, influence her opinion. Instead, I couched my question in the form of a generalization.
    “Overall,” I asked, “do you see any subtle changes in the crew’s mental health?”
    Kelly’s reply was immediate.
    “Shall I assume you mean Doctor Melhaus?” Seeing my surprise, she laughed, then added, “I thought so.”
    “Meaning what? You believe there’s a problem?”
    “No, not necessarily. But it makes good sense to think of him first, given that at this morning’s meeting you became aware of the sleep medication I prescribed for him. It’s not unusual for sleep patterns to be disrupted during extended periods of space travel, even when taking into account that the ship’s lighting was adjusted to help maintain circadian rhythm.”
    “Did he come to you?”
    “No. Some careful questioning during a routine examination revealed the insomnia. He was reluctant to take any medication. That is why I made that little joking comment about it. You inadvertently helped with your remark. I took it as a positive that he could respond with humor.”
    “He was testy at the end of the meeting.”
    “True, but I think whatever you are seeing in his behavior is Larry being Larry. He closely fits the classic stereotype of the genius who concentrates on work to the detriment of