I sat down at my desk and opened my laptop. The surgery schedule loaded automatically: three spays, two neuters, one dental cleaning. A predictable Tuesday.
Through the window, the sky was starting to lighten. Deep blue fading to gray, the first hint of pink at the horizon. I wrapped my hands around the coffee mug and let myself sit there for a minute, just watching. Three years ago, I couldn't have done this… couldn't have sat still without my thoughts spiraling. But I'd learned.
I pulled up my email and got to work.
By six-thirty, the coffee was brewing in the break room and I'd reviewed the day's appointments, sent two emails about the mobile clinic proposal, and restocked the supply closet in exam room one. My hands were steady as I worked.
By seven, I heard Lucy's car pull into the parking lot.
"Morning!" She came through the front door in a burst of cold air and energy, her scrubs covered in cartoon cats. "Oh my God, it's freezing out there."
"Supposed to warm up by Thursday," I said, not looking up from the inventory list.
"Dr. Whitaker, are you already doing inventory? It's seven in the morning."
"It needed doing."
She hung up her coat and grabbed her coffee mug, the one that said 'Paws and Reflect' that she'd brought from home. "You ever think about taking a day off?"
"I took one last month."
"You had the flu. That doesn't count."
I felt my mouth twitch into a half-smile. "Pretty sure it counts."
She grinned. "Impossible."
"So I've been told."
"By who?"
"Everyone who's ever met me."
"Fair." She leaned against the doorframe, sipping her coffee. "So what's on the schedule today?"
"Routine morning. Three surgeries this afternoon. Dr. Mills has farm calls until noon."
"Sounds good." She started to turn away, then paused. "Hey, you still coming to dinner Sunday? I’m making that lasagna you liked."
"Maybe."
"That's a no."
"That's a maybe."
"I'm putting you down as a yes. Seven o'clock, alright? Don't make me hunt you down."
The front door chimed again, Dr. Harrison arriving with his usual thermos of tea and leather messenger bag, holding the door for Margie, who was already juggling her coffee and a stack of mail. He nodded at both of us, polite and quiet as always, and disappeared into his office. Ten minutes later, Dr. Mills' truck rumbled into the lot, and she came through the door smelling like horses and hay.
"Morning. Mrs. Patterson's mare is doing well. Checked on her before I came in. Foal's due in about two months."
"Good. Let me know if you need backup."
"Will do, boss."
The clinic hummed to life around me. Phones ringing, computers booting up, the autoclave starting its morning cycle. This was what I'd built.
I was updating a chart when Lucy poked her head into my office around ten-thirty.
