For the sake of a Wet Wipe

She couldn't remember if she had accidentally touched the dog before they left. It seemed unlikely that she had managed to help Susan with her suitcase and wait in the Kramer's living room without that infernal dog somehow having had contact with her. Now that she thought about it, was it even possible for her not to have touched the dog in some indirect way by simply being in that house? The doggy smell invaded the place, and she had the sneaking suspicion that the Kramers were the type who felt that dogs were a part of the family, and therefore should be allowed to sit on sofas. In which case she could have short blonde dog hairs on her jeans, depositing germs, or fleas or god knows what. She had to use the rational brain Dr. Alban had told her about to stop herself from imagining a skin inflammation spreading along her buttocks. She gripped the steering wheel a little tighter as if to crush the bacteria that could be marching along the palms of her hands at that very moment. Could be. Deep breath. Probably weren't.

She looked over at her sleeping travel companion and reminded herself to give crazy a holiday for the sake of her friend. Susan had tried her utmost to stop her parent's hysterical golden retriever from jumping up at her. She knew that dogs, and, in fact, all animals, could send Nina into one of her 'moods'. Susan told Nina she was being unreasonable about animals. Susan didn't know about the counseling. She didn't know about the fact that Nina's 'moods' were part of a condition that was on the verge of being medicated, and that her golden retriever was on the verge of causing an 'episode'. A breakdown of sorts, which involved a great deal of anguish and panic. Calm yourself, for God Sake, she thought. Nina didn't want to ruin the drive up to Edinburgh. As it was she had only just managed to disguise herself as another carefree and careless student by spending most of her first year stoned. Until her paranoid personality had resulted in a bad trip, which ended with her scrubbing her hands with bleach until they bled and resulted in her swearing off drugs forever. Her housemates thought it was just the result of some bad weed, which had turned out to be a very useful assumption. From then on every time she was discovered bleaching the kitchen at 3 'o'clock in the morning she pretended to be coming down from something. The excuse had only started wearing thin by the end of her last term and by then she had already committed to herself to a summer on Dr. Alban's couch.

Just a dog, not an assassin, she told herself.

'Sing it out', she remembered her therapist saying.

She managed to get through one verse of 'How much is that doggy in the window' before she started feeling light-headed. If she could only reach her bag on the back seat she could give her hands a thorough wipe and it would all go away. But she was now navigating through a tricky bit of narrow country lane and even in this state she couldn't justify killing herself and her friend for the sake of a wet wipe. OK. Let's focus on the solution, she thought. She knew the solution was supposed to be to calm down and think rationally. Could a dog really have passed on near-fatal filth-spreading bacteria?

'It's very difficult to die from having dirty hands', he had said.

She had tried to kill him with a dirty look, but he had been left standing. By now Nina was feeling a very hot and uncomfortable so she turned on the air conditioning. The air hit her face in a warm gust before cooling down. In a moment of mental clarity Nina realized that this situation was bigger than her. She could not muster enough brainpower to stop the vision of dog germs marauding up her spinal column. She would have to wash herself and soon.

'Susan', she whispered.

Susan didn't stir. She was oblivious to the impending confessional that Nina was mentally unhinged and that a dog was about to ruin the road trip they had planned for so long because there was a possibility it had touched her indirectly through the method of couch infestation. But before the moment of judgment arrived, Nina was handed a lifeline. The lifeline had appeared as if by magic, by the side of the road. A service station.

'Wha..?', Susan muttered, her eyes still closed.

'Nothing. I just have to make a toilet break', said Nina.

As she turned into the parking lot she felt grateful that she had thought to pack her toiletry case in her handbag. Having to use service station soap wouldn't have done at all. Not unless she fancied a nasty case of ringworm.