The Death Date

chapter nineteen

Early November saw an uptick in clients at the vet. I had begun a set schedule, volunteering for three hours stretches in the afternoon until closing Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. The time it took to settle into the role had been effortless; I started to wonder how I had gone so long without the vet clinic, as it seemed an obvious missing puzzle piece, but maybe that's how it went. All the laying pieces were there, but in order to see the full picture you had to see where they fit, rearrange them as you went.

I was enclosed inside a treatment room with Carly, a seasoned vet tech, and a couple who had brought their English Springer Spaniel, Mocha, in for a routine exam. Mocha licked me anxiously as I pet around his head and tried to sooth his nerves before the onslaught of pricks and prods.

"He hates shots," Liam exclaimed, burying his forehead into his hands.

"You hate shots," his husband, Arthur, stated mildly, adjusting the spectacles slipping down his nose. "And all your panic makes it worse for him."

Liam scoffed. "How can you say that?! Look at our baby. Poor Mocha. Oh, I know, baby," he continued, frowning as Carly assumed position.

With Mocha held close in my arms, shaking minimally, Carly said, "Alright, Mocha. Looks like Delia's got you nice and calmed down. Just a quick prick, okay, boy?"

One prick, two pricks, three pricks. Mocha was vaccinated. Releasing my grasp, Mocha licked my hand once more and scurried to his parents, eagerly welcomed into Liam's expansive embrace.

"Oh, good boy," he crooned. "I've never seen you take shots like that. What a champ!"

Carly dusted off her hands. "That's all Delia," she said. "Girl's a dog whisperer," she added in a hush. It was my nickname around the clinic.

Liam offered me a warm smile. "Please, next time Mocha needs his shots, do whatever it is you do. I'll pay double."

I laughed just as the exam room door burst open. Veronica stepped through, snapped on a pair of gloves, and said, "Ah, has it been a year already? I thought I had while still before you two troublemakers were back."

Liam scoffed playfully, hands dancing around him. "Don't lie, you missed us," he said, causing Arthur to roll his eyes.

"Every day," Veronica said. "Okay, what do we have here. How've you been, Mocha?" She stepped forward, me in her wake, as the two of us drew Mocha out from his cover. Petting him once more, I attempted to get him to relax. "Anything different? Changes in diet, activity, still drinking water?"

"No, no change in anything," Arthur replied.

"Good." Veronica resumed the exam. After sifting through his head, she poked at his underbelly. "Hmm." She poked harder. "Any changes in his urination?"

Liam and Arthur swapped a glance. "He's been peeing more, if that's what you mean," Liam said.

Veronica nodded. "Okay." She looked to me. "Delia, your turn. Give Mocha's belly a feel."

This was new. She had never instructed me to follow through with a physical exam before. My duties typically rested on checking dogs in, checking dogs out, and calming them down when needed. I did frequently join on examinations, though, when there was time, and had felt for abnormalities when they existed. I liked learning about different ailments and their plans to recovery.

Keeping a hand on Mocha's chest, I began my novice examination. My hands swept over his undercarriage, not entirely sure what I was searching for, but taking note of what I felt. When I arrived midway down his abdomen, I felt something lack symmetry. Retracing my fingers, I pressed further into Mocha's stomach, causing the dog to stiffen.