You are My Doom

Chapter 1: Eden

Chapter 1: Eden

"It's all right, Luna. Your meds will kick in soon" I try and comfort the whimpering white Shepard mix. She has a few gray spots placed sporadically throughout her fur, but my favorite feature is the set of golden eyebrows framing her bright blue eyes. She was spayed this afternoon, and I'm attempting to feed her some dinner. Per Dr. Romero's instructions, I'm only giving her half of the normal amount. Sometimes the anesthesia causes sensitivity to food for a few days, and I really would rather not have her vomiting all night. So, I put her dish on the elevated platform we use for patients in an E-collar and close the door on her 4'x5' kennel and move on to the next pup.

I've been volunteering at the Westside Animal Hospital for the better part of seven years now. I started when I was 18, and finally able to spend my time devoted to whatever organization I wanted. A few years ago, the owner of the clinic, Mark Romero entrusted me with a key and the alarm code. He knew I had been upset that my new job at CYFD would prevent me from volunteering during the day, so he gave me the opportunity to work at night. He has often tried to turn my volunteer position into a paid one, but I always refuse.

This clinic has a partnership with the city and often functions as a shelter for Animal Control's newest abused dog intakes. When an owner is arrested for animal cruelty or a dog fighting ring is broken up, the dogs are brought here and cared for at cost. At first, Dr. Romero thought this was a great way to give back to the community, but it soon began consuming most of his time. While the care doesn't actually cost him money, it does cost him a lot of time. This takes away from his ability to see paying clients. Dr. Romero and his techs often times does not have time to work with the aggressive and abused dogs the way they need to be to get them prepared for a new home. This is where I come in.

I spend a few hours every night at the clinic caring for and showing love to these neglected puppies. When I think they are ready, I will take them home for the weekend to see how they do in a new environment. During my time here, I have learned how to handle aggressive dogs and treat their wounds. I cannot perform surgery or diagnose internal ailments, but I can set a broken leg and stitch lacerations with the best of them.

I'm just about to give Pugsly his evening dose of Carprofen, when I hear something crashing in the other room. I drop the tablet onto the concrete floor and a cold sweat breaks out over my skin. Someone is in the clinic.

I try to convince myself it's just one of the animals making noise, but when a man screams out for help, I forget my fears and spring into action. Ignoring my base instinct to run, probably wasn't my brightest idea, but when someone calls out for help, I feel inclined to do so.

I charge into the tech room and am shocked by the scene before me. A hulking man covered in a fine layer of debris is cradling a mass of black fur to his chest. His coal colored hair is streaked with red; at first, I think it is blood, but as I move closer, I see the natural highlight. His glassy dark eyes connect with mine, and I release the breath I was holding.

He's breathtaking. His sharp jaw line and rugged features gives him a dark and mysterious air. I can see he's not uninjured, but all he cares about is helping his dog. I place my hand on its fur, but when my hand comes away sticky with blood, I snap out of my lust filled haze.

"Place him on that table. Start CPR if he's not breathing" I bark instructions at the man while I root around in cabinets pulling out supplies.

"I don't know how to do CPR on a dog!" He nearly roars at me.

I point to the poster on the wall showing the basic steps. The man wraps his huge hand around the dog's snout, closing its mouth, and begins blowing into the nose.