one
Rex
I'mstandingoutsideDarkmoreVeterinary Clinic at 7 AM on a Tuesday, trying to convince my German Shepherd to limp.
"Come on, Thor. Just favor the left leg a little."
Thor sits and stares at me with pure judgment.
"Don't look at me like that. This is the seventh time, I know. But she works early shifts on Tuesdays."
Thor yawns, showing all his teeth.
I’ve been doing this for too long. Different fake emergencies each time—anxiety, upset stomach, mysterious lethargy, possible ear infection, behavioral changes, and last week, a cough that vanished the moment we walked through the door.
Daisy Wilde. Five feet of curves and chaos who started working here three months ago. Dark hair always escaping from messy buns, scrubs that can't hide her full figure, talking to the animals like they're people. She takes every overnight shift,every emergency call, fosters too many animals. Yesterday I saw her car here at 11 PM. Still here at 7 AM.
The woman needs someone to take care of her before she burns out completely.
"Mr. Smith?"
Her voice comes from the doorway. She's holding a coffee cup with cartoon puppies on it, steam curling in the morning air. There's hay in her hair and what looks like kitten formula on her scrubs.
"Thor's limping," I lie.
She looks at Thor, who's now lying down, perfectly healthy. "Is he though? Because it seems intermittent. Like his anxiety, stomach issues, and that mysterious cough that only happens in your truck."
Busted.
"Come on in," she sighs, but she's trying not to smile. "Dr. Mitchell is at a conference, so it's just me. But we both know Thor's fine."
I follow her inside, Thor trotting perfectly beside me, the traitor. The waiting room smells like disinfectant and vanilla body spray.
"Exam room two," she says, leading the way.
Thor jumps onto the examination table without any sign of distress. Daisy runs her hands over his legs with practiced efficiency, and he preens under the attention.
"Rex, can I ask you something? Why do you really keep coming here?"
Before I can figure out how to answer without sounding like a stalker, her phone explodes with notifications. Text after text light up the screen.
Her face crumples as she reads. "No, no, no..."
"What's wrong?"
"Someone found a dog. Hit by a car. They want me to take it but I already have twelve fosters and my landlord sent an eviction warning yesterday and—" Her voice cracks. Tears start rolling down her cheeks.
"Twelve? In what, a mansion?"
"Studio apartment."
"Fuck, Daisy."
The tears come harder. "I know! But I can't say no. Everyone calls me because I always say yes and now I'm getting evicted and I haven't slept in three days and I spent my last fifty dollars on cat food and—"
"Hey." I move closer, hands up like I'm approaching a spooked animal. "Breathe."
She takes a shaky breath. "I can't keep doing this but I can't stop."
