112. Nate

ONE HUNDRED TWELVE

NATE

I don't recognize the number calling, but since it's from back home, I excuse myself from the table and answer. "Hello?"

"Hi, this is Lindsay from the Oak Tree Animal Clinic. Are you the owner of a cat named Charles?"

My fucking heart stops. "Yes." I have to press my hand to my chest. "What's happened?"

"He's totally okay." She immediately reassures me.

"Fuck me." My body sags in fucking relief, and I nearly collapse. "I think I need a defibrillator."

"Sorry, I didn't mean to alarm you." She's apologizing, but I swear I hear her trying not to laugh. "We just wanted to verify some information since the woman who brought Charles in didn't know anything about him. And we need to know what vet to call for his records."

The woman who brought him in.

"Rosie?" I shake my head. "Rosalyn? Did she bring him?"

The woman makes a sound of agreement. "She's okay now."

That makes my spine straighten. "What do you mean okay now ?"

"She was, um, pretty upset when she got here. It took a few tries to understand what had happened. "

"What did happen?" I try to keep my tone level, but I need this lady to start explaining.

"The cat threw up a few times, and Ms. Edwards was concerned that he might have gotten into some raw chicken, so she brought him in."

"Is raw chicken bad for cats?" I ask, thinking about all the raw food diet stuff I hear about.

"There can be a few reasons for concern, but generally, no. And we couldn't find any chicken in the sample she brought in. So there's a chance Charles didn't even eat any chicken, and his stomach discomfort was from something else."

"Sample?"

She clears her throat. "Of vomit."

I make a face. "But he's okay? I mean, he pukes sometimes, but he always seemed fine after."

The woman hums. "We've told her to keep monitoring him and to let us know if there are any changes, but we're comfortable sending him home. Could have just been a hairball or something else he ate, but his vitals are good, and he seems alert and happy. We just need his records so we can add them to our own for this visit. Do you have a vet we can call?"

"Yeah, we go to Nussen Veterinary," I tell her. "I'd have to look up the number."

"That's okay," she tells me. "We're familiar with him."

"Okay, good. And can I pay over the phone?" I don't want Rosie stuck with the bill.

"That's not a problem. I'll get you over to the front desk. There's usually a small charge for the cardboard carrier we're going to recommend, but we'll waive the fee. We just don't want her carrying him out in her arms without a leash or harness."

I have to sit with that for a second. "She… carried him in? Like just in her arms?"

"It happens."

As I get my card out to pay, I think about my Rosie and how scared she must have felt. And my heart aches.