I scrambled out of bed, and Minnie moved in to take my spot, resting her fluffy face on my pillow while she watched me get dressed. In the corner, Blue watched from inside his crate. I threw on jeans and a T-shirt while I called Phoebe to update her, and then I went into the bathroom. Five minutes later, I was in my car, headed for the clinic.
My headlights sliced through the night as I finally thought to glance at the clock. It was almost three in the morning. I navigated the winding roads easily in the dark, having lived here my whole life, but a little part of me was worried about Phoebe doing the same. Maybe I should have offered to pick her up.
I caught movement out of the corner of my eye a moment before a deer leaped in front of my car. Instinctively, my foot was on the brake almost before I’d realized what was happening. The seat belt caught, keeping me upright as the tires squealed and the car swung. My stomach swooped while shock prickled through my system.
The car screeched to a stop, headlights blazing into the dense trees in front of me. I gripped the steering wheel, gasping for breath while I gathered my wits. I was okay. I hadn’t hit the deer. There had been no impact. I was sure about that part. I’d spun the car ninety degrees and was now sitting broadside across the road.
I backed up and straightened out the car before someone came along and hit me, pulling to the side of the road for a minute to recover. I forced myself to take slow, deep breaths until my heart rate slowed and my hands stopped shaking so badly. Then I pulled back onto the road, because Phoebe was waiting for me at the clinic.
I drove more slowly this time as my eyes darted from one side of the road to the other, wary of every shadow. Fifteen minutes later, I pulled into the vet’s parking lot. A single streetlamp illuminated the small lot in its yellowish glow, revealing Phoebe’s purple Nissan.
I shut off the engine and climbed out of my SUV, crossing quickly to her car. I slid into the passenger seat, lifting the small box there into my lap. Cherry was inside, snuggled in a blanket and not moving.
“Thanks for coming,” Phoebe said in a hushed voice.
“Of course.” I reached over to rest my hand on hers as I looked down at the puppy. “She really doesn’t look good, does she?”
“It happened so fast,” Phoebe said. “I mean, her growth has always been the slowest, but she’s been on a steady curve.”
“She may have had something going on inside her since she was born that we didn’t know about, and it’s just manifested to the point that it’s causing outward symptoms. That happens a lot in young puppies, when their bodies are growing so fast.”
“Will she be okay?” Phoebe asked.
“I have no idea,” I told her honestly. “But if she’s not, please don’t blame yourself. You’ve done everything for her that you possibly could.”
Phoebe blew out a breath. “That’s not very reassuring.”
“She might be perfectly fine,” I told her. “But when things go wrong in tiny puppies, sometimes there’s nothing we can do. Hopefully we’ll know more in a few minutes.”
Headlights illuminated the parking lot behind us, and Dr. Thompson’s SUV turned into the lot. Seconds later, she was motioning us toward the front door as she unlocked it for us.
Phoebe stood from the car and leaned over to take the box from my lap. “Thank you so much for coming out in the middle of the night,” she said to the vet.
“It’s part of the job,” Dr. Thompson said. “And I’m happy to do it.”
We followed her into the clinic and directly into the exam room. She flipped on lights as she walked, and we all blinked against the sudden fluorescent glow.
“This is the runt, correct?” she asked as she took the box from Phoebe’s hands.
She nodded. “Cherry Parfait.”
“Right.” Dr. Thompson’s lips twitched with a smile as she lifted the puppy out of the box. “Our littlest rose.”
Phoebe and I watched as she examined the puppy, who let out a high-pitched squeal as she was removed from her cozy nest. Cherry’s little feet waved in the air as Dr. Thompson listened to her heart and lungs. She looked at Cherry’s eyes and ears, listened to her heart and lungs, and then gently prodded her abdomen, prompting another squeal.
“Well,” she said as she tucked Cherry back into her box, nestled against the heating pad. “I’m feeling some enlargement in her liver.”
“Oh no,” Phoebe gasped, gripping the edge of the exam room table.
“I’d like to run some bloodwork, and depending on the results, I’m probably going to refer you to the veterinary hospital in Burlington.”
Phoebe nodded, her eyes wide. “Is that bad? Enlargement in her liver? It sounds bad.”
“Anything is potentially serious when we’re talking about a puppy this young,” the vet told her. “But it could be benign and treatable. We’ll know more once we’ve run some tests. I’m going to take her in back for a minute to draw some blood.” She lifted the box and left through the door at the other side of the exam room.
Phoebe turned toward me, and I wrapped her in my arms. She pressed her face against my shoulder, and I rubbed a hand up and down her back.
“It’s going to be okay,” I told her.
