Puppy & You (Freenbecky)

Doc Rebecca

The girl with the striking light caramel-brown eyes has been a regular client of my veterinary clinic for four months now.

Miss Sarocha Chankimha and her adorable seven-month-old Golden Retriever were among my first clients when I opened my small veterinary clinic in this close-knit town.

But during her visits, I never really got to talk to her about anything other than her puppy, Sunny, which she appropriately named. 

I'm not saying I have favorites, but I do have a soft spot for Golden Retrievers. They're adorable, warm, and fluffy, and they can brighten any bad day. That's why I get so excited whenever the dog comes to visit

—and it could also be because of his owner, who exudes the same ray of sunshine every time she enters the lobby.

It's a shame that I've gone this long without attempting to befriend her.

Everything changed one night when the woman rushed into the clinic minutes before it closed. 

She was not wearing her usual warm smile. Instead, her lips quivered. 

It was also raining that night, but I could see tears streaming down her cheeks through her wet hair.

"Help," she pleaded. "Please, please help."

Just then, I noticed she was holding an unconscious Sunny in her arms. I rushed beside her, not caring if it was after closing time.

"Doc Rebecca, please... please save my baby," she sobbed as I met her halfway and led her toward the consultation room.

"What happened?" I asked as I began checking the puppy's vital signs.

"I... He... H-he..." She was obviously too shaken to speak. Too overwhelmed to speak coherently. "We were.... and... a-and..."

This won't do.

If the woman does not calm down, I will be unable to assist, and based on the initial symptoms, I suspect the pup has ingested something toxic. 

Time is of the essence. 

So I focused my attention on Sunny's owner, who was about to break down.

"Miss Chankimha," I tried to get her attention, but her frantic eyes remained helplessly fixed on her lethargic puppy. 

"Miss Chankimha!" I called a little louder the second time, and her gaze met mine. 

I grabbed both of her hands, gently brushing my thumb over them, and said, "Let us take a moment to breathe. Could you do that for me?"

"B-But..."

"No, just look at me. Breathe in and out. Come on, do it with me. Breathe in, breathe out," I instructed, and the woman eventually followed after a moment of hesitation. 

"Great, now tell me what happened, calmly. We can't help Sunny if you can't even say what happened. What did he ingest?"