8. Paisley

Runningaround like the crazy woman I am is what I do best. Since I had just sent everyone home a little bit ago, because we finished early and had no late appointments tonight, I thought I'd give everyone a break. Well, that totally bit me in the ass. Bridget called about five to ten minutes later explaining that a friend had a serious emergency with some stray cats, and one is critically injured. I told her to bring them right in, then started to get the exam room ready for just about anything. I'm assuming the momma cat probably was run over by a car, shot, or something, so discreetly on a tray in the corner is my euthanasia kit, just in case. Being I'm alone, Bridget and her friend are going to have to be my assistants since I can't do it all by myself.

With everything ready, I start to make sure all is clean and prepped for the next day. My staff is awesome though so it's just my OCD kicking in, as usual. It's taken a very long time to get to this place in my life. Lots of personal work, investing, and believing in myself, which hasn't been easy. I quickly head to the restroom because I can't remember the last time I visited this room today. As I take care of my business, my head ticks off everything on my to-do list for today. Seems like with this emergency, grocery shopping and stopping at the pet store is being pushed off, all depending on how long this takes and what time I get out of here. Oh well, it's not the first and won't be the last time my plans are changed. Washing my hands, I glance in the mirror and, holy mother of God, what a total mess I am. Pulling the holder out of my long, curly dark brown hair, I gather it up high and place it in a messy bun to keep it out of the way. Bending over, I throw water on my face just to freshen up. I don't bother with makeup; it wouldn't hide the scars anyway. Reaching in the medicine cabinet, I grab a small bottle of mouthwash and give a quick swish. Coffee breath isn't the best, since coffee is the only thing I've managed to put in my mouth all day.

As I head back to the front, I hear the bell, so quickly move my ass. On my way past the main reception desk, I reach down to it and grab my can of Mace. Not that it would help me in a knife or gunfight, that I know for sure. But can never be too careful, don't I know that. All the lights are on so I can see Bridget waving at me through the side glass, so I disarm the system and unlock the three locks to let them in.

Bridget walks in with a wicker basket with soft noises coming out of it, which tells me the kittens are way past feeding time. Next up is one of the hottest guys I've ever put my eyes on, and that's saying a whole lot, because generally I never ever recognize someone's looks because my eyes are always down. Dark buzzed hair and lazy deep blue eyes the color of worn denim jeans. He also has a Rubbermaid bin in his arms and whatever is in it is covered with some towels. Don't see any movement. Guessing it's the momma, so I point for him to follow Bridget who's standing in the waiting room. As I go to shut the door, a third person attempts to come in but he's in some fancy kind of wheelchair. And, whoa, in it is an even hotter guy, if that's possible. He looks built from what I can see and is tall, even being in the wheelchair. Short dark hair, unusual brown eyes, and a full groomed beard. Damn, I think to myself, Bridget sure hangs around with some very handsome men. I've seen her husband, who is on the same scale as these two. Once he passes me I close the door, lock the three locks and arm the system.

"Okay, let's head back. I have a room ready, please follow me."

No one says a word, but I can hear steps and a whooshing sound so guess they're doing as I requested. Once in the room, I look into the wicker basket and yes, definitely see the kittens. As usual, when around little ones my heart squeezes for a second so I reach in, grabbing one to see if I can guess their age. I look at the size of the dark brown kitten in my hand, pry its tiny mouth open to check its teeth, and then go over and weigh the little thing. Not as young as I thought, which is good for the kittens in case momma doesn't make it. I turn to the trio and fill them in on my plan.

"So, it's just me, so the three of you are going to have to assist. If you're squeamish, let me know now? Great, so I need one of you on the kittens as they need to be weighed, checked for fleas, fed, and put in that fenced-off area to use the litter box. Well, that's a big hope, we'll see if they do. If not, will need cleanup duty. Looks to be only four kittens, so who wants this job?"

I glance at each of them and, just as I thought, Bridget steps forward looking around to the one side of my largest exam room. She sees all the supplies in the corner and turns to me. Smiling, I continue.

"I think we can get them to feed from a bottle because I would prefer that to tube feeding. Let me give you a fast lesson, then I can look over the momma. You guys will help me with her exam?"

Both men just nod after they look at each other with smirks on their faces. Whatever, now is not the time to scratch and sniff. Just like military men, no just men in general. Once I have Bridget set up, I move to the table where the box is sitting. Seeing that the guy in the chair is not able to assist, I hit the foot pedal and lower the table a bit so it's comfortable for all three of us. He seems startled by this.

"All right, before we start, I'm Paisley and this is my clinic, and you two are?"

Bridget kind of laughs out loud before talking from the corner.

"Paisley, these military guys usually have two names. First is their given one and then a code name. The guy with the buzz is Quincy, better known as Stud Muffin—self-explanatory. And the guy sitting is Ollie, and he doesn't have a code name yet."

I glance at both men, but my eyes seem to want to stay on Ollie. I can tell he's uncomfortable, but he has such a presence about him that seems to pull me toward him. There's more to his story than everyone can see. Shaking my head, I look to Stud Muffin.

"Can you gently get the momma out and place her on the table? Ollie, will you be able to grab the Rubbermaid and get it out of the way? I'm gonna bring over this rolling table and we can get started.

As they both follow my instructions, I fetch the table with all kinds of modified tools because I wasn't sure what we were going to be dealing with. Turning, I reach for the towel to remove it when a huge hand stops and startles me.

"Hey, Doc, just a warning, she's in bad shape. I couldn't even tell her primary colors 'cause there was so much blood. I did check and she was breathing, but that's all I got."

Looking down I see it's Ollie's hand. I reach over, grab it, and give it a quick squeeze. The electrical current running from my fingers upward just from that touch literally takes my breath away. The expression and heat in his eyes tell me he can feel it too. Immediately I pull back, looking down at the bundle of bloody fur.

"Thanks, Ollie, appreciate that. Now, let's get started so maybe we can save this momma's life."

Not sure howlong we've been at this, but after a long day to begin with and then taking in this emergency, I'm exhausted. After watching Stud Muffin carefully place the momma kitty in a kennel as I hold the IV bag before hanging it on a hook outside of the cage, he closes the door. Leaning down, I check on our patient, who seems comfortable enough for now. This is going to be a touch and go kind of case for sure.

Turning, I walk out of our ICU and head to the front with Stud Muffin behind me. Passing the exam room, I peek in, trying to see how much cleanup I still have to do and see that someone has taken care of most of our mess. Table looks clean and the bottle of cleaner/sanitizer is sitting on the corner of it. A garbage bag is off to the side, I'm assuming all the waste is in there. Thinking how nice that was of them, I make my way to the front where Bridget is sitting on a bench, Ollie next to her in his chair. Stud Muffin passes me and sits on the other side of Ollie. They all look up at me, I guess waiting for what's next.

"So as y'all know, the kittens are healthy. All at a good weight for being around four to six weeks old. All cute as buttons. They'll get their first shots, and then in a couple more weeks, maybe a month, we can get them neutered and spayed too. Momma cat is another story. Her back leg is broken, so I set it and put a cast on. The lacerations have been stitched and cleaned. But the BBs from the BB gun are a serious problem. Some I've been able to remove but others I can't, they aren't operable. So, for now I would say momma cat's chances are very guarded. She's in ICU on an IV with fluids, antibiotics, and pain meds. The next twenty-four to forty-eight hours will determine her fate. This wasn't just a car accident; some asshole intentionally shot her multiple times on multiple occasions. With them being strays, I'm guessing these critters are probably going to end up at a shelter."

Little do they know, I run a small shelter on my land outside of town. So, if that's the case here, they'll eventually come home with me. Not sure, but for some reason I don't say a word about it. Not many of my clients are even aware that I do that outside of the clinic.

"No, I want them when they're ready to be released."

My head jerks down because it's Ollie who makes the statement in that deep raspy smoky voice of his. Bridget and Stud Muffin jerk and look his way too.

"Um, dude, I'd clear that with Nova, ya know, that house, not sure if there are any pet rules."

"Thanks, Stud Muffin, but I intend to build an outdoor shelter for momma and her family. When do you think they will be ready to go, Doc?"

As we discuss the time frame and what will be needed, my heart swells knowing that this man, who is injured and suffering himself, can't seem to let the furry ones he just found go. That, right there, makes my day. As my mind processes his kindness, I look down at Ollie to see he has a dazed look on his face; like he can't believe he just agreed to take in all five cats. I know that feeling exactly. I give him a shy smile that he returns with a grin of his own.