Valeria holds on to Miso while Haley shaves her belly.
The moment the probe touches Miso’s abdomen and the image sharpens on the monitor, Valeria lets out a sigh of relief. She can see it clearly now. A hairball. A big one, sure—but still small enough that medication should help it pass.
“Will you prepare some lactulose for her?” Valeria asks Haley, who nods. They return Miso to her carrier, and while Haley prepares the medication, Valeria adds a few notes to Miso’s online chart. A few minutes later, Haley comes back with the oral syringe.
“Okay, sweetheart,” Valeria murmurs to Miso, giving her chin a gentle scratch. “You’re gonna be fine, but you need to take this.” Valeria takes the syringe from Haley and gently works it in Miso’s mouth before emptying it, and to her surprise, Miso takes it without a fuss.
“Good girl,” Valeria says, before zipping up her carrier. They head toward the exam room, Valeria feeling ten pounds lighter.
When she walks in, Camila is perched on the edge of the table, wringing her hands. She straightens up the second she sees Valeria.
“Well?” she asks, voice thin with nerves.
Valeria smiles. “Good news. She’s okay. The X-rays showed a mass, and the ultrasound confirmed it’s a pretty impressive hairball working its way through her intestines. I gave her some lactulose to help her pass it, so she might have bloody stool until it comes out, but after that, she should be fine. If you don’t see it come out within the next twenty-four hours, you’ll have to bring her back in so we can check whether it’s moved. If it hasn’t, we’ll need to get her into surgery, but I don’t think it’ll come to that.”
Camila’s shoulders drop so fast it’s as if someone cut the strings.
“A hairball?” she repeats, half laughing, half crying.
“Just a hairball,” Valeria echoes gently, handing her the carrier.
Camila presses a hand to her chest. “Oh, my God. I thought?—”
“I know,” Valeria says softly, cutting her off before she can finish the sentence. “But she’s okay. I’m sending you home with one more dose of her medication, which you should give orally in twelve hours. I’d switch her to wet food for the next few days and add a little water to help keep her hydrated. The hairball should pass on its own, probably by tomorrow night.”
Camila nods, wiping under one eye.
“Also, grab a hairball-control supplement,” Valeria adds. “To help keep things moving so this doesn’t happen again. She might be over-grooming.”
“God, I feel so silly,” Camila says with a shaky laugh. “I’m sorry. It’s exactly what you said it could be.”
“Hey.” Valeria shakes her head. “It also could’ve been something else. You did the right thing bringing her in. Now you know she’s okay, we have a plan, and you can breathe easier.”
Valeria bends over and pokes a finger through Miso’s carrier, giving her one last pet. As soon as she straightens up, Camila slips her arms around her. The hug startles a small breath out of Valeria, but the warmth of it settles quickly, embarrassingly nice in its softness, and she hugs her back, an unfamiliar comfort unraveling through her.
Camila lets out a long breath, emptying all the leftover panic. “Thank you.”
“Of course,” Valeria murmurs, a gentle warmth spreading through her chest.
When Camila lets go, she adjusts the carrier strap on her shoulder, still looking a bit wrung out but miles better than when she walked in.
“I seriously appreciate you. I know I can get ... a little dramatic.” Camila bites her lip, cheeks going pink.
“You’re fine,” Valeria says. “You care about her. That’s not dramatic, that’s being a good pet parent.”
“Still. Thanks for . . . everything.”
“Anytime,” Valeria tells her, opening the door so she can step out. “Text me if something changes, and I’ll come right over, but I think she’ll be back to herself soon.”
Camila nods, gives her one more grateful look, and heads down the hallway with Miso bouncing gently at her side.
When the door swings shut behind her, Valeria can’t help smiling. It’sridiculouslysweet how quickly Camila’s fallen for Miso.
The rest of her day drifts by in a gentle, almost suspicious quiet. It’s one of those lull days where everything is too calm ...tooquiet. She has more time between appointments, with most being straightforward and low-key.
When it’s time to go home, the sky is already turning that watered-down blue. Traffic—thankfully—is kind to her, and almost every light is green as she approaches them.
At home, she kicks off her shoes by the door and swaps her scrubs for something looser: an oversized fluffy sweater and a pair of leggings, her unofficial uniform of being donefor the day.
