George had watched on with a growing smile.
My fingers were all set to type out a passive aggressive message back to Fallon about which karaoke song I’d decided on, when the front door burst open.
‘Need a fucking towel, right now.’ Alistair barrelled through the door, droplets of water cascading down his face. His coat was drenched, sticking to every part of his body. Blood streaked across his hands. That’s when I noticed a ball of fur cradled in his arms.
I shot to my feet. Jean grabbed my mug quickly, stopping it from spilling over the computers. Without another word, Alistair stalked through the clinic to the treatment room.
‘What happened?’ I asked, following him, snapping on some latex gloves.
Carefully, he laid the unmoving animal down on the table, keeping his head supported. I got closer, noticing the marks on his face, the swell of blood pumping out of his stomach from a wound I couldn’t properly see. He was a terrier of some sort, if I had to guess. Barely bigger than a puppy.
‘I was on my way home when I heard some fucking kids in the alleyway near my flat. They had him chained up andwere kicking him, the little fuckers.’ Malice clear in his tone. He shrugged off his wet coat, tossing it over a chair and went to grab all the supplies we’d need. ‘They ran when I started yelling at them.’
I shoved all the anger I felt towards those kids to one side and focused all my attention on the poor creature.
‘He’s gonna need X-rays.’ My fingers pressed gently over the dog's chest. His ribs were an accordion. So thin I could almost see his heart beating. From his injuries, it was obvious that someone had been keeping him tied up in a collar for a long time. A ring of dried blood contrasted with his fresh wounds around his neck. His sores were deep and oozing.
For the next hour, Alistair and I worked seamlessly. Lawrence came in halfway through. He’d been doing the books in his office when Jean told him what had happened. Seeing we had it handled, he went back, checking in on us periodically.
The wound on the dog's stomach had turned out to be superficial, which I fixed with some stitches. From the x-ray, he had a few broken ribs and was severely emaciated. His poor body had been so badly beaten and he’d been denied the proper food to grow properly. His bones were brittle.
I cradled him to my chest as I carried him over to a crate. The painkillers we pumped through his system had knocked him out. His head flopped on the blanket and I double checked the bandaged areas before stroking a hand over his head.
‘Reminds me ‘o Roxy.’ Alistair grabbed his waterlogged coat, slinging it over his arm.
‘She was worse than this little guy,' I muttered. Alistair had been there that night as well. Someone had dumped Roxy on the clinic’s doorstep late one evening. Her front leg was broken, and she’d been half dead from dehydration. The guy who dropped her off hadn’t stuck around, not wantingto get lumped with the vet bills, or charged with cruelty or neglect.
People who abused animals deserved the worst kinds of pain. Nothing ever excused that kind of mistreatment.
‘You okay?’ When I snatched the crate closed, Alistair was staring at me, lips pressed together in concern.
‘You’re the one who found him. Areyouokay?’ I pointed out, slumping down onto an office chair in the corner. Jean had brought in my coffee whilst we’d been working. I picked it up, but it was stone cold.
He shoved his hands in his pockets. ‘Ay, I’m fine.’
The door pushed open. Jean’s head peered around the corner. ‘The little fella okay?’
We both nodded. It wouldn’t be easy and he’d need a lot of love and care, but the dog should make a full recovery. Alistair told her as such. A visible wave of relief washed over her face. ‘That’s good to hear. Well, I’m off for the night. I’ll see you guys tomorrow.’
‘I’ll walk you out, Jean.’ Alistair said, giving me a two finger salute before the two of them headed out of the treatment room.
‘Night,' I called.
‘You sure you’re gonna be okay tonight?’ Lawrence stepped into the room right as I let out a loud yawn. His bag was slung over his shoulder and he had an umbrella clutched in one hand.
‘Yep, I’ll be fine.’ I gave him a thumbs up when another yawn overtook my ability to speak.
His eyes narrowed. ‘I could have got Alistair to cover your night shift for you.’
‘I’m fine, boss. And I think if you made Alistair do any more night shifts for a while, he might lose his shit.’ Alistair had been on night shift duty for the past few months after an incident involving Lawrence’s brand new office rug and a catwith bowel problems.
Lawrence readjusted the bag on his shoulder. ‘It’s good for him.’
‘He’d strongly disagree, but honestly, I’ll be good.’ My smile obviously did nothing to appease him.
‘You need a holiday.’
Slumping down into an office chair, I rolled my eyes. ‘I already put in some leave for the weekend.’ Something I’d done right after Fallon reminded me about the trip away.
