And We're All Falling

Time Will Tell

“Really? Another one?”

Sighing, David Washington picked up the box containing a small dog and brought it inside the shelter. It looked scared and it’s colorless eyes told the caretaker that he was blind. That would make it harder for him to be adopted by anyone. And just when he thought he could close up for the day without any sad cases.

“Well, little guy, you remind me of York so I’m gonna call you Manhattan for now,” Wash declared, putting the dog in a spacious cage beside a sleeping Retriever. 

In careful print, he wrote the dog’s temporary name on the whiteboard. He’d have to take him, along with three other animals, to CT tomorrow to get checked out. Hopefully, they wouldn’t get “renamed” by her. He’d had enough Iambda’s in his life.

Picking up his phone, he scrolled through North’s text message for what seemed like the thousandth time. It was dinner, nothing he couldn’t handle. But it was the casual mention of the new girl that threw him off. 

His friends had tried and tried to set him up with anyone and everyone they could think of. None had clicked though. Either they were too ecstatic about everything or they weren’t interested in him. Nowadays, usually the girls kept North and York on a leash when it came to trying to set Wash up. But that didn’t always work.

“Night guys,” he called through the shelter, picking up his things and locking the doors.

Once in his car, he edged into traffic and began to drive. Three hours until dinner and he knew he couldn’t be late. New girl did not need to be traumatized by the two idiots that he called friends. Even if he wasn’t interested in her, he was still going to try and be friends with her.

Wash got home fairly quickly. He hummed softly as he went up the stairs to his apartment. Once at the door, he turned the key and went inside.

“Phi, I’m home,” he called, setting his things on the counter.

A small meow announced the kitten’s arrival into the kitchen. Wash picked him up. It wasn’t a pretty kitten by any means; he looked sickly and was very, very skinny. But ghost-white fur and blue eyes kind of balanced things out.

“You’re actually active, so that’s good,” Wash commented, setting the kitten by the food bowl that was almost full. “But you aren’t eating as much.”

Phi was the only surviving kitten of a litter that came to the shelter in bad shape. It took all night, but Wash, CT and Carolina got him to pull through. He had a list of endless problems, though. CT gave him a year to live and that time was already two months in. Wash didn’t care though. He believed that the kitten would thrive and be his pet for a lot longer than a year.

In the back of his mind, he scolded himself for getting attached. CT was an experienced vet; she was most likely correct on his lifespan. Why did he bother hoping on a lost cause? Carolina already suggested to put him down and maybe Wash should’ve listened. The quality of life for the kitten wasn’t great, but could it get better?

Meow

“Alright, I’ll go get ready for dinner. Don’t die while I’m showering.”

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(Disclaimer: I do not own the Red Vs Blue characters, they belong to the lovely people at RoosterTeeth :))