“Nope. Though, Ms. Marcus is bringing Whisper back. I’m worried about them.” She frowned.
“Hm.” She’d been struggling for a while. “Thanks for letting me know.”
A few hours and a few appointments later, I’d dealt with an angry Rottweiler who wasn’t happy about seeing me. I’d inserted a microchip in a Siamese cat. And checked the stitches on a pug. I glanced at my schedule, and I was immediately filled with dread for my next appointment. I’d done everything to keep Whisper healthy and comfortable, but she was getting up there. More than anything, I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to save her. It was one of the hardest parts of my job—saying goodbye to an animal and having to watch the devastation suffered by the owner.
I took a deep breath and forced myself to smile as I entered the exam room. “Ms. Marcus.”
“Hello, Dr. Nash. Always good to see you.” Ms. Marcus smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes.
“You too. What’s going on with Whisper today?” I rubbed just behind her ears the way I knew she liked. But she barely stirred.
Whisper had been diagnosed with kidney failure almost a year ago. Since then, Ms. Marcus had devoted herself to her cat’s care. I’d been seeing them since I’d moved back to the Alondra Valley and started practicing. She had been one of my first patients.
“She seems off. Doesn’t want to eat or drink much. Just lies there.”
“Hmm,” I said, assessing the patient, talking to her in a gentle voice, explaining what I did, even though she might not understand.
“Please tell me she’s going to be okay,” Ms. Marcus said, her voice shaking. “Whisper has been my constant companion. And since my husband died a few years ago, she’s been my everything.”
“I know how much she means to you,” I said as I completed the exam. She’d told me many times how her cat was the only one who kept her going. “And I know how much you love Whisper. But I’m afraid she’s suffering.”
Ms. Marcus started crying then. “I don’t want her to suffer, but I can’t live without her.”
With a heavy sigh, I placed my hand on the cat’s side. Whisper looked up at me, eyes pleading. She was panting, dazed. It wasn’t good. I didn’t want to deliver the news, but I didn’t have a choice.
“Please,” Ms. Marcus pleaded. “Please tell me there’s something, anything, you can do to save her. I don’t care how much it costs. I don’t—”
“I don’t think she’s going to live much longer,” I said, trying to keep the emotion out of my voice. Even though I knew this was part of the job—part of life—it never got any easier. “She can finish out her days at home, with you.Orwe can ease her suffering and end it sooner.”
I, of course, knew which option she’d choose, but I had to give them to her anyway. And not surprisingly, she said, “I want to keep Whisper at home with me. I think she’s happiest there.”
I nodded. “If things get worse, you need to call the after-hours line and speak to the doctor on call. If she stops eating completely, won’t drink at all, or can’t keep anything down.”
She swallowed, her expression fraught with destruction. “I understand.”
I gave Whisper a gentle cuddle and handed her to Ms. Marcus but not before saying, “I’m so sorry.”
Ms. Marcus sniffled. “Thank you.”
“Of course. I wish I had better news.”
“It’s not your fault that none of us live forever. I just hoped we’d go at the same time so neither of us would have to be alone.”
Fuck.I swallowed hard. God, this was awful. I was thankful they were my last appointment for the day. Stacy had already left, and I didn’t think I could handle dealing with anyone right now. Whisper may not be gone yet, but we all knew it wouldn’t be much longer. I just hoped her owner wouldn’t follow on her heels.
I drove around for a while with no particular destination in mind. I didn’t want to go back to Wren’s—not when I was in such a melancholy mood. That wouldn’t be fair to her or River. And I knew she’d only try to help.
And if she looked at me the way she had last night…
I clenched the wheel and released a deep breath. Living with Wren was torture. Spending every evening with her. Getting this glimpse into her and River’s lives. Being allowed in, only to know that I was going to leave.
Wren had been right—River was getting attached. But I was afraid of how much I was beginning to enjoy coming home to the two of them.
It’s not your home.
My house was still a few weeks away from being done, but I needed to see the progress, check in with the crew. Remind myself that I would be moving out again soon. Leaving Wren and River.
My phone buzzed with a text.
