Total pages in book: 118
Estimated words: 119184 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 596(@200wpm)___ 477(@250wpm)___ 397(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 119184 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 596(@200wpm)___ 477(@250wpm)___ 397(@300wpm)
I can’t help it—I look out the window, staring at the evening haze painting gloom over everything.
It’s a minor miracle the dog is even here.
What kind of man goes hiking in this black lung environment? A masochist? Some health freak who puts muscle and endurance over long-term lung capacity?
Then again, judging by his build, I shouldn’t be surprised.
“He was whimpering when I tried to coax him out. He wouldn’t come,” he continues, “but my driver had some beef jerky, and we caught him eventually. No collar or anything. He’s a friendly pup.”
His driver?
I have to stop myself from snorting.
Seattle money is annoying.
Young Seattle money is fucking infuriating.
Oh, I’m sure he feels like he deserves a Purple Heart today, courageously taking precious time away from living like a prince to breathe some smog and help a lost corgi. All with his hired help stepping in, because God forbid he do anything himself.
For a second, I try imagining what that must be like. Having someone there to wait on you hand and foot.
Nope. Can’t picture it.
I’ve worked hard for everything I have. That doesn’t make me better than him, no, but it sure as hell doesn’t make him better than me.
“Let’s have a look and see if he’s chipped,” Dr. Ezzie says, once she’s given the corgi a quick inspection. “Ah, here we are. Lena, can you grab the owner’s info, please?”
I step up to the computer as she scans the dog’s chip, clicking through the database as Dr. Ezzie advises Brady and Blondie what to do.
As we suspected, our boy is a little dehydrated and his lungs are irritated, but otherwise he’s unharmed.
I’d bet my bottom dollar that Ice Queen over here doesn’t have any intention of caring for the corgi a minute longer than necessary. She must be counting the seconds until they can leave.
It’s a little impressive, to be honest, to be that heartless and self-centered. God must’ve missed her when he was passing out empathy.
As if she can sense what I’m thinking, she glances at me, her mouth pinched in a frown. On anyone else, it would be unflattering, but she somehow manages to pull it off.
Pouty. Picture perfect. Evil.
I give back a little smile.
Just a tad patronizing, because if she thinks her looks will do her any favors here, she’s dead wrong.
“His lungs sound okay,” Dr. Ezzie says, checking the corgi again. “Though he should stay indoors until the air clears up.” She checks her watch. “If you’d like, you can stay another hour for observation.”
“Yeah, thanks.” Brady sounds grateful. “I’d definitely like to keep him here as long as you can give us—or until his owner comes to pick him up. I’m happy to pay for that too. Just send me the bill.”
Blondie huffs loudly.
Holy shit, if she keeps that up, I will punch her.
How can anyone be so dismissive with an animal in need?
“His name is Charlie,” I announce from the desk. “I’ve got his owner’s number here—I’ll just step out and give her a call.”
Dr. Ezzie gives me a proud smile. “Yes. Thank you so much, Lena.”
It’s just my duty.
Regardless of who brings in a pet, I’m always at my best. It’s the least they deserve—just like how Charlie needs to go back to his family.
“We’ll be out of your hair soon,” I hear Brady saying. “Thanks again for taking us in. We appreciate you making sure he’s okay after normal business hours.”
“Of course.”
He’s making it harder to hate him.
Sigh.
I shut the door and block out the rest of the conversation so I can make the call.
Our receptionist, Trish, has gone home for the evening—and given how quiet it was, I said she could head home early if she wanted and I’d help cover the phones.
Friday evening and all.
So many companies give that spiel about how they’re family, but that’s genuinely how it is here. My colleagues are more than coworkers.
My heart lurches when I think about Dr. Ezzie and her bad news again. Whatever it is, the odds are stacked against any big improvements. For Esmerelda Serena and her family, there’s just a long way down.
Tick tock, the empty room announces.
Mom always said I had a morbid streak. Always prone to stressing about worst-case scenarios and black-swan disasters.
I suppose that’s true, but what’s the harm in being aware?
Just knowing what the worst might look like.
Just in case, y’know.
That’s one life lesson I learned the hard way, and one I’ll never forget.
“Hello?” The owner has an elderly quiver in her voice as she answers.
“Hi, is this Mrs. Hernandez?”
“Who is this?”
“This is Lena from Pawsome Hearts veterinary clinic over on Edmunds Street in Beacon Hill. I’m calling about your dog, Charlie.”
“Oh, you’ve found the little Houdini?” The relief in her voice is palpable. “Thank you! I’ve been worried sick. My niece was out walking him yesterday, and he broke off his collar and escaped. We were sure something dreadful had happened—and it was so out of character for him!”