“Not that I can tell.”
Valeria hums. “It’s not super common, but since you say there’s hair mixed with blood, and she kept trying to throw up a hairball last night, she could have another that went down her GI. Cats usually throw them up, but sometimes they go through instead, causing all sorts of issues, including bloody stools. If that’s the case, it should clear up once she passes it. Keep an eye on her litter box to see what’s going on.”
“Okay, okay.”
“I’ll come by during my lunch hour to give her a laxative that should help her pass it more easily.”
“Thank you,” she sighs.
“No worries, I’ll text you when I’m on my way.”
“Okay, I’ll see you later.”
When they hang up, Valeria clutches her phone close to her chest and leans back against the wall. A soft creak behind her startles her. She turns and finds Brooke at the bedroom doorway, hair messy, eyes half-lidded.
“Who’s calling you so early?” she asks, her voice groggy.
“Camila. Her cat isn’t doing well this morning,” Valeria says, trying to keep it light.
Brooke traces her top incisors with her tongue, eyebrow raised. “Isn’t there a 24-hour clinic open she can go to? Why is she calling you?”
Valeria shrugs, a little defensively. “She’s a friend.”
Brooke’s mouth hardens to a line, and she nods, folding her arms across her chest like she’s physically holding herself back. She doesn’t argue, but Valeria can see she doesn’t like it, either. Still, she reins it in—she’s been doing that more and more. Her explosions have simmered into something manageable.
Valeria pulls her in for a kiss, trying to shake off the tension she knows is brewing. Brooke lets it happen, but doesn’t kiss her back. Valeria pretends not to notice. She doesn’t want to make it a thing, so she heads to the kitchen instead, starts the coffee, and they slip into their usual morning routine.
Once Valeria arrives at the clinic, she checks her schedule and can’t help but chuckle when she sees that Camila is her first appointment of the day.Of course she is.
Valeria heads into the exam room, still smiling, but the moment she sees Camila, the smile slips right off her face, and whatever she was going to say dies in her throat. Camila looks completely distraught. Her hair is a little messy—not in her usual controlled chaos—and her eyes are dull, drained of their usual spark. Her hands are wrapped so tightly around Miso’s carrier that her knuckles have gone white. The sight of her like this makes Valeria want to wrap her in a tight hug.
“I know you said it could wait until tomorrow,” she blurts out before Valeria can say hi, “but I don’t think I can. My brain keeps filling up with images of me finding her passed out somewhere in the house. I can’t waitto find out what’s going on. I need to know now, or I’ll keep conjuring worse-case scenarios until I lose it.”
“Hey, hey,” Valeria says gently, stepping closer, reaching for Camila’s hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “You did the right thing bringing her in. Let’s take a look at her, okay? One step at a time.”
Camila nods, but her eyes are glossy, like she’s two seconds from falling apart.
Valeria crouches by the carrier and peeks inside. Miso blinks up at her, calm as ever, no idea why her mom is spiraling.
“She looks alert,” she tells Camila, keeping her voice soft. “That’s a good sign. We’re gonna figure this out.”
Camila exhales shakily.
“May I?” Valeria asks as she reaches for Miso’s carrier.
Camila hesitantly lets go of the handle and nods.
“I’m going to take her for an X-ray,” Valeria says. “Hopefully, we’ll get a better picture of what’s going on. If I can’t, I’ll have to do an ultrasound, which means I’ll have to shave her belly. Is that okay?”
Camila nods. “Of course, do whatever you need to.”
“Perfect, we’ll be quick, I promise.”
As Valeria heads toward radiology, she glances back, and her heart clenches. Camila’s sitting on the edge of the stool, hands clasped, looking like she’s preparing for terrible news.
When they make it to the back, Valeria lifts Miso out carefully, and she gives her a tiny meow in protest before leaning into Valeria’s chest. Valeria flags down Haley—her favorite vet tech—to help keep Miso still and together, and they position her for the X-ray. Miso gives them one irritated grumble, but mostly blinks at Valeria, trying to figure out whatshe’s doing.
A few minutes later, the images load on the screen. She can’t definitively call it a hairball; hair shows up as soft tissue in X-rays, just like everything around it. But there’s an oblong mass, low in her GI, a soft-tissue lump that shouldn’t be there. An ultrasound will give her a better look.
