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I watch the excitement in her eyes. She’s going to make an excellent vet one day.
I look at Grace, who—God love her—is upright this time, but still a bit green. “You did so well.”
“I think I’m going to get sick.” She turns and hurries to the bathroom.
Grace Underwood is the granddaughter of Doc and Hilda Underwood, whom I bought the practice—Wags—from. None of their three children caught the veterinary science bug, but Grace, who is twenty-one and has yet to find her passion, thought this would be a good idea. Her grandparents stayed on, which was a godsend. Due to Doc’s health, he can’t perform surgeries, but he’s the best diagnostician I’ve ever met, and he can still give immunizations. Hilda offered to stay and teach me everything about the business end of the practice. Within a week, I hired her as my office manager until I found one. I—not so secretly—hope they both stay forever.
Through the pandemic, I accepted a few things about myself. A big one is that I’m no longer apologizing for my wall. It’s there for a reason, and the reality is, if you’re not strong enough or care enough to penetrate it, you don’t deserve what’s inside. I am finally—finally—surrounded by people who, to my soul, I know will not hurt me in a physical or emotional way. I have friends who I know are real. They don’t backstab one another to get ahead or to feel cool. And I have my little Wags family that love the way love was intended to be given—the kind that is returned.
I poke my head in the restroom and see Grace rinsing her face. “You okay?”
“No.” She sniffs. “I suck at literally everything.”
“That’s not true. Last week, you threw up. Today, you handed me the correct instruments and?—”
“I stood behind you,” She interrupts. “I couldn’t even watch.”
I hold her biceps gently. “This was big. It’s a win. Hang in here with us, Grace.”
“You should fire me.” Her eyes start to well up with tears.
“Not a chance.”
* * *
After we clean up, I let the girls leave as I wait for the last human to pick up their little tabby cat.
You’d think people would be on time to pick up their pets after major surgery. Especially on a Saturday, when I offer spaying and neutering for pennies on the dollar. I do this mostly for the animals, of course, because, hello, they’re amazing. But I also do it for their families.
So many people got pets during the shutdown to bring the joy that only a puppy or kitten can bring then realized later that they also needed to be cared for and loved when they weren’t basically stuck at home. New pet owners came into the office after they returned to work and complained that their pets, who’d given them so much love and comfort, were now misbehaved or bad.
Doc and I have had many conversations with people, trying to get them to see what a massive adjustment being home alone is for their animal, who is a part of their family. I’ve even had flyers printed with things to look for and tips to make the transition easier for all. Many understand, but others are another reason I am so lucky to have Doc and Mrs. Underwood here—or else I’d be in jail for assault.
The door opens, and I look up from the little tabby, who’s resting on my lap, to a man who one might consider really good-looking, if it wasn’t for the fact that he’s an inconsiderate jackass, like Hot Neighbor.
“Got held up.”
The giant has the balls to seem annoyed. Unable to control myself, I do a slow blink.
“You’re pissed.”
Ding, ding, ding.
Then he grumbles under his breath, “I get it. Me, too.”
Standing, I do not address the unapologetic excuse, nor do I like the fact that this guy is clearly agitated; it brings back memories that I have worked hard to forget. Feelings that I’ve managed to morph from borderline fear to simmering rage.
“How’s Cat?” he asks.
Gathering the packet of postsurgical instructions, I grind my molars together before answering, “She’s going to be sore and?—”
“She?” he gasps.
I look up at him and ask the obvious question, “You didn’t know your kitten was female?”
He runs his hand over his head in frustration. “Didn’t check. The little thing was on my back steps for a week. I followed Cat one day to the back steps of my neighbor’s place and found the mama and siblings under their porch.”
He briefly closes his eyes and shakes his head. Then he reaches out for the sleepy little thing, and I hand her to him.
