I’ve only had my cat for five weeks, and already I’ve been to the clinic four times.
“You are going to bankrupt me sooner than I expected, Wellington,” I grumble as I type out a text with shaking fingers. My mom would love that, using my lack of money to guilt me into going back home.
Savannah:
It’s Beef. An emergency. Please help.
As I wait for a response, I look up the closest emergency clinic in case I’ve called in one too many favors with my regular vet. Like when Beef swallowed half a dozen hair ties and had to get his stomach pumped. (I’m down to only one or two hair ties now because I haven’t had time to buy more.) Or the time I called in the middle of the night because I thought my cat was choking to death. (He apparently is just obnoxiously loud when it comes to hairballs.) Or the day I brought Beef into the clinic at lunchtime and begged three different appointment holders to let me cut in front of them because my absolute unit of a cat ate an entire bag of cat treats in one sitting after I didn’t lock it in the pantry quickly enough. (He was fine.)
At some point, I’m going to have to consider going back to school and getting at least a vet tech degree, or I’m going to be the most hated pet owner in Sun Valley. If nothing else, my wonderfully wonderful vet is going to block my number and instruct his receptionist to lock me out if I show up without an appointment again.
While Beef Wellington keeps glaring at me and making that terrible growling sound—I honestly can’t tell if it’s anger or pain—I scratch him behind the ears and give myself thirty more seconds before I bite the bullet and take him to the nearest emergency clinic.
One that likely won’t take my pet insurance that I’m so glad I bought.
Ouch.
My phone buzzes, and I hold my breath as I open it to find the most wonderful text I’ve ever read.
Doc Ox:
I can be at the clinic in ten.
“You beautiful man,” I breathe, which isn’t a lie because he’s not only a kind and friendly vet but he’s incredibly attractive. And single, as far as I can tell, though I haven’t made a move because, one: that feels very gauche when I adopted a nightmare of a pet and disrupted what I assume was his otherwise peaceful life, and two: in no way do I have time to date.
Beef mews, blinking up at me with his yellow-gray eyes.
“Savannah Blair,” I mutter to myself, “you are too soft for your own good.” Groaning, I bend down and press a kiss to Beef’s head, ignoring the hiss he returns. Normally he swats at me too, which makes me more convinced than ever that he was seriously hurt in the crash. “Don’t move, Beef,” I instruct as I stand, pointing at him to emphasize the order.
He blinks at me again, still completely motionless.
With an aching heart, I grab the cat carrier and head back to the bedroom, whimpering when I find Beef Wellington in the same spot I left him. “Oh, baby,” I mourn, petting his head. “Is this one for real?”
For the first time since I saw him at the shelter I shouldn’t have walked into, Beef doesn’t fight me when I put him in his carrier, which sparks more tears, and by the time I get to the clinic, I’m practically sobbing. It’s a miracle I made the drive without crashing, and I’m so glad to see Dr. Auxier waiting by the front door that my tears fall harder.
He must see that I’m in full breakdown mode because he comes over to my car and opens the door, crouching down and rubbing his hand along my arm. “Take a breath, Savannah,” he urges me. “What happened?”
I explain in incomprehensible stutters and through gasped breaths, but he gets the gist of the situation, grabbing Beef’s carrier from the back and saying something about “mean books” and “gravity gets the best of all of us sometimes” as he heads into the clinic.
He pauses at the door and looks back. “Do you want to come inside or wait out here?”
I’m embarrassed that he’s seeing me in all my blubbering glory, especially now that I’ve finally calmed down enough to notice his nice button-down shirt and dark jeans. With my luck, I interrupted a date or something and am quickly becoming his nemesis. But Dr. Auxier has a way of making people feel at ease with that warm smile of his, so I take a deep breath and slip out of the car.
The door’s already unlocked, and as we step into the dark lobby, I jump when I catch sight of a large, muscular man sitting in shadow in one of the waiting room chairs.
“Give me a few minutes,” Dr. Auxier says to him.
The man grunts in reply.
Wildly curious about who he is, I stumble a bit as I follow the vet to one of the exam rooms.
“I think we’ve been in this one a couple of times,” I say stupidly when he flips on the light. But I need something to fill the silence as Dr. Auxier grabs a white coat and a pair of gloves.
He smiles as he slips on the gloves. “It’s possible. Hopefully we can get you to be less of a regular.”
“I’m so sorry for texting you, Dr. Auxier. On a Friday night? You were probably…” My mind strays to the man in the lobby. Could that be Dr. Auxier’s date? “I didn’t mean to interrupt anything.”
“You didn’t.” He opens the carrier and bends down to peer at the motionless cat inside. “I was out with a teammate, but he’s fine to be on his own for a minute. He isn’t very social anyway. Just like this little guy, huh?” He reaches in and pets Beef’s head.
