She understood loss—the way it reshapes you, and forces you to rebuild around an absence. But Matt had done more than survive his wife’s death. He’d honored her memory by staying here, by helping the community in a place she’d loved.
There was something beautiful in that, Lynda thought. Something worth admiring.
Star, the smallest puppy, whimpered softly, and Lynda immediately reached in to check on her. Her tiny body was warmer now, and her heartbeat was stronger. Lynda smiled, gently stroking the fuzzy head with one finger.
“Be strong,” she whispered.
As the hours passed, Lynda continued to check on the puppies. Occasionally, she’d glance toward the closed office door, thinking about the man resting beyond it, and wonder at the strange turns life could take.
Three months ago, she’d come to Sapphire Bay for a brief reunion with her friends. Now, here she was, in the middle of astorm, helping save orphaned wolfdog puppies alongside a man who was quickly becoming far more than just a colleague.
Lynda sighed. This was one time when the life she’d never planned turned out to be exactly where she needed to be.
CHAPTER 12
Matt woke suddenly before he could fully process where he was. The small office cot creaked as he sat up, disoriented for only a moment before the events of the night rushed back to him. The storm. The rescue. The puppies.
Lynda.
He checked his watch. It was half past four in the morning. He’d slept longer than the planned three hours. Swinging his legs over the side of the cot, he stood and rolled his stiff shoulders. The storm didn’t sound as loud as when he’d gone to sleep, but the rain was still hitting his office window.
When he opened the door to the exam room, Lynda was bent over the incubator. “Is everything okay?” he called softly.
She turned quickly, relief washing over her tired face. “I was just about to wake you.”
He frowned and crossed the room. “What is it?”
“It’s Star—the smallest pup.” Lynda stepped aside to let him see into the incubator. “Her breathing changed about ten minutes ago. It’s shallow and too rapid, and her temperature’s dropping again despite the warming pad.”
Matt leaned in to examine the tiny puppy with the white chest patch. Even in the warm light of the incubator, he could see the bluish tint to her gums. Her tiny ribcage heaved with the effort of breathing, each inhale a struggle.
“Respiratory distress,” he murmured, his mind already cycling through what could be causing the issue. “It could be Pneumonia.”
“That’s what I thought, too.” Lynda looked down at the tiny pup. “Her breathing was normal at four o’clock when I gave her something to eat. But when I checked her a few minutes ago, I noticed the change. Her temperature’s dropped from 97.2 to 95.4 in the last twenty minutes.”
Matt carefully lifted the struggling puppy. “Let’s move her to the treatment table. We need to get a better listen to those lungs.” Lynda had already prepared the table, laying out a warming pad and the pediatric stethoscope he kept for his smallest patients.
They worked in silence—Lynda stabilizing the tiny body while Matt listened to the congested sounds in the puppy’s chest.
He looked at Lynda. “Star definitely had aspiration pneumonia. It’s probably from the formula entering the lungs during feeding.”
Lynda opened a cupboard. “I’ll suction the airways and start antibiotics. Are you happy for me to use Amoxicillin?”
Matt nodded. “Once you’ve done that, I’ll set up a small oxygen tent.”
As they worked over the next thirty minutes, Matt appreciated Lynda’s steady hands and positive outlook. The pup would need more than a few prayers if she were going to survive.
“Pulse is steadying,” Lynda reported as Matt carefully inserted the smallest suction tube he had into the puppy’s airway. “Oxygen saturation coming up slightly.”
“Let’s move her into the tent,” Matt said softly. He gently placed Star inside, adjusting the flow rate to the optimal level for her tiny body. Creating a small support from towels, he gently placed it under her back. “This will help her breathing.”
Lynda was already preparing the nebulizer treatment, her movements efficient but gentle. “I think we should start fluids. She’s still dehydrated.”
“Good call,” Matt agreed, preparing the smallest butterfly needle he had. “I’ll give her just enough to support kidney function without overloading her system.”
For the next hour, they focused on the puppy’s care, barely speaking except to exchange vital information or treatment adjustments. The other four puppies remained stable in the incubator, occasionally whimpering but generally sleeping through their littermate’s crisis.
Finally, Star’s oxygen levels stabilized, and the bluish tint to her gums faded to a healthier pink. Matt inserted a tiny IV catheter for fluids and medication, securing it with the lightest possible bandage.
