章節 85: 5. El Condor Pasa.
As I strolled towards my next client, a cat with a persistent cough, I couldn't help but analyze the possible causes. The first suspicion was an infection, but the distinct smell would have been noticeable right from the beginning. If it wasn't an infection, it could be asthma or even cancer. The thought of hay stuck in the cat's throat also crossed my mind, presenting multiple options to consider.
Donning my doctor's coat, I felt a sense of renewed focus and excitement. It had been four weeks since I started working at our clinic, and I genuinely enjoyed what I did. As I approached the examination room, my spirits were high. Being a feline shifter, my pheromones had a calming effect on cats, making them feel relaxed and at ease. I was like a whisperer to these lovely creatures.
Inside the room, there was a man, approximately 35 years old, with a carrier placed on the table. He had a pleasant appearance, though somewhat plain, and inside the carrier was a beautiful long-haired black cat that gazed at me curiously through the door.
I extended my hand to the man, introducing myself, "I'm Mimi Springcove. Nice to meet you. And who is this beauty?"
The man shook my hand and replied, "I'm Eddie Peterson, and this is my little rescue, Thumbelina."
I smiled warmly and said, "She seems to have a cough. Have you noticed any specific times when she coughs, or have you taken any video clips of it? I can tell you it's not an infection. Being a shifter, I can detect the scent."
The man looked at me, seemingly unsurprised, and showed me a video clip. It was evident that this little one had asthma.
I continued, "It looks like asthma, but we'll need to take a few blood samples and an x-ray. Depending on the results, she might require a long-lasting cortisone injection or an inhaler. Sometimes, the cortisone injections work wonders and negate the need for an inhaler. Interestingly, I used to have a cat with asthma, but that was a long time ago."
The man smiled and replied, "That's fine by me. This is not about the money; Thumbelina is the most precious thing to me."
I reassured him, "The nurse will be here shortly to take the blood samples. We'll try to keep her relaxed without sedation for the x-ray. I'll be there to take care of her."
With a smile, I left the room and instructed the nurse on what to do. As I moved on to my next case, I couldn't help but feel a sense of fulfillment in my busy days. Despite the workload and the need to juggle multiple cases simultaneously, I cherished the opportunity to make a difference. Colin had returned to the base, and Number Four had made many changes, requiring his attention as well. Even though my days were full, I found joy in having time for consultations at my clinic in the evenings. I had the energy, and stamina, and no longer felt the need to be alone at home.
Restlessness consumed me as I lay awake, my mind racing with thoughts. Sleep eluded me, not because of nightmares, but the fear of encountering Jake and Rob in my dreams. The mere thought of seeing them again was unbearable. No one could truly understand the depth of my pain, losing two soulmates and feeling the bond we had slowly faded away. I didn't want to experience it.
But perhaps, someday, the pain would sink deep enough, allowing me to bury it. Back then, I was much stronger than I am today. Everything I had endured had made me feel, teaching me the power of emotions. But back then, I wore my armor, shielding myself from truly feeling. I have painfully learned that emotions are not a weakness, but a source of strength. However, it is agonizing when those feelings are not love, but loss and death.
My daydreaming was interrupted by a nurse, informing me that blood samples had been taken and the X-ray machine was ready. I entered the room without bothering to wear any protective gear. I opened my panels, allowing the radiation to be absorbed into my tanks, hoping to use it somehow. The patient, a not-so-tiny creature, had thick, luscious fur that gleamed in the light. She appeared to be in good shape, perhaps a bit too good.
I remarked to the nurse, "This one is overfed. Make sure to give the owner feeding instructions."
She nodded in agreement. Standing near the patient, I emitted my pheromones, causing her to become drowsy and content, purring softly as the nurses positioned her for the X-ray. No need for drugs when my pheromones can achieve the same effect, making it easier for both us and the animal.
The X-ray was completed, and I went to examine the results. It seemed to be asthma, knowing it was time for her first dose of cortisone. I sought her owner and explained the diagnosis, advising him that the cortisone should ease the symptoms. If they persisted, an inhaler would be beneficial. Additionally, I informed him that the nurse would provide a feeding guide to prevent further weight gain and promote a healthier physique. It was easier for the animal to remain in good shape.
With several cases lined up, tomorrow would be an operation day. I had two operation days per week, during which I solely focused on surgeries, allowing others to handle client consultations. Our staff was truly exceptional.
And of course, being a feline shifter, they were curious to see my various forms. After the clinic closed, I entertained those who hadn't gone home by showcasing my transformations. I effortlessly shifted from a house cat to a majestic tiger, from a poodle to a fierce wolf. On occasion, I even took the form of a bird, although my colleagues insisted that my rendition was not quite accurate. They kindly provided me with books on bird anatomy and physiology, allowing me to visualize the perfect avian body, which would aid in my future attempts to fly once I possessed the appropriate feathers. It was an invaluable resource.
But what truly captivated everyone was the two dragon scales adorning my chest. They served as a reminder of the mysteries and surprises that exist in the world. Possessive of my unique traits, I vowed to keep them to myself, never to be shared. Life seemed promising, and perhaps, with time, a sense of inner peace would settle within me.
Though I silently prayed that motherhood wouldn't be a responsibility thrust upon me at this moment. I yearned to focus on my veterinary career, solving cases, performing operations, and relishing in the use of my skills to save and heal, or even offer merciful release.
Several days or maybe a week had passed when I took a brief pause, savoring a cup of coffee. Suddenly, a nurse approached, informing me that the owner of an asthmatic cat wished to speak with me. Apparently, he had some pressing questions. I sighed, rolling my eyes, and set my coffee cup down after hastily finishing the last sip. Caffeine was an essential part of my routine.
Approaching the man, I noticed his slight embarrassment. "I apologize for the interruption," he stammered, handing me a clip of his cat's recent attack. "Does this mean she needs an inhaler?"
I studied the footage, relieved to see that it wasn't as severe as previous episodes. It appeared that she was attempting to expel a hairball.
"It seems she's trying to dislodge a hairball," I explained. "Try using malt or a few treats specifically designed to aid in hairball elimination. Another option is to let her graze on hay if she goes outside or grow for her some safe hay indoors. The natural fibers will help her vomit up the hairball, especially since she's long-haired and prone to grooming and swallowing her own fur."
The owner nodded, his face reflecting a mix of relief and gratitude. "Where can I find hay?" he inquired.
I gestured to one of the nurses and instructed, "Katy, please show Eddie here how to assist the cat with hairball removal."
Eddie showed the nurse a video demonstration, and the nurse promptly escorted him to the shelves, pointing out various options for him to choose from.
I walked back to my seat, craving another cup of coffee. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled the air, enticing my senses. The warm liquid was my fuel, keeping me energized throughout the day. It was a common occurrence for the owners to return and bombard me with all sorts of questions that popped into their minds. As I passed by, I couldn't help but notice that he wasn't wearing a ring, although I didn't ponder over the reasons or his family matters. It was just a passing observation, nothing more. One little quirk of being a pretender. One notices a lot of things.
A few days later, he returned with news that the attacks had ceased. He proudly displayed a massive fur ball that his pet had expelled. I advised him to keep a close watch on his pet's health and make sure she continued to expel those fur balls. Grateful for the advice, he asked me to join him for a cup of coffee. He confessed he had noticed the scent of coffee on my breath during my breaks and would often take the opportunity to pester me with his silly questions.
He wanted to make it up to me. I reassured him it hadn't been a bother, as this was just part of my job. With a smile, he expressed his hope that someday he would have the chance to treat me to coffee at the new cafe across the street. I simply smiled in response, not seeking anything more, even though he was kind and it was obvious he was interested in me. I maintained my professional demeanor as I watched him leave the clinic.
One case followed another, each presenting its own challenges. There were heartbreaking cases like cancer where all I could do was provide painkillers and discuss the option of mercy. Then there were delightful moments like examining a litter of adorable puppies, though I couldn't help but reminisce about mischievous pups or my own litters. But these were just regular, non-magical puppies. Of course, there were also cases of severe infections that made me question my immunity. I had to be extremely cautious with these patients.
Additionally, there were breed-related issues such as hip or back problems, and while I couldn't question the breeding practices, I did my best to offer help and support. It was simply my duty to mend and assist wherever I could, regardless of the breeding decisions made by others. Unfortunately, these decisions often led to the many problems faced by humanity.
Even in the midst of this job, some moments made me question human intelligence. But amidst it all, there were moments of genuine connection between owners and their pets that warmed my heart. It reminded me of a time when I had been someone's "pet," although it was nothing like the bond I witnessed here. Being a pet for a vampire was more akin to a twisted form of sexplay, devoid of any genuine connection. It's strange how even the most random things can trigger memories from the past. And these memories, they weren't all bad; maybe they were a form of healing, or something.
But certainty eluded me. Especially after that one case involving a pet rat. The rat was perfectly fine, just in need of a trim and some vaccinations. However, it brought back memories of when Jake confessed his fear of rats. Oh, the places where we had taken advantage of that fear and had our fun. As I reminisced during my break, a warm and tingly sensation crept up on one side of my neck, as if he was reminding me to behave. Of course, it could all be my imagination, but in this world, nothing was certain. It was somehow comforting, though, nostalgic even.
A week later, Eddie came back. He had opted for an inhaler for his cat and had been learning how to use it. He practically begged me to have coffee with him, and I agreed, giving him a time when I would be free. Just as I was about to change into a fresh scrub top for our coffee date, he sat in the waiting room. But before I could join him, the clinic door swung open, revealing Mariella and a number two beside her. Between them was Mimosa, in her wolf form, with a badly broken front leg. Mariella was in tears, and the nurse signaled for me to go meet them. No one knew who they were. So there I stood, perplexed and unsure of what the hell was going on.
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