We know not what we do
Part 18
The room was mostly silent once Steve stormed out except for Mocha’s raspy breath. Both Cheryl and Samantha, the vet tech, took a deep breath. Inhale. Count to five. Exhale. Count to five.
“Let’s do this.” Cheryl and Sammy worked great as a team, once Cheryl was ready she shaved fluff off Mocha’s rear leg and sterilized the area. As Cheryl set the IV of antibiotics, Sammy gave Mocha two shots, one a steroid in her rump, and an anti seizure into her scruff. It was a very quick change, her chest stopped heaving sharply, her breathing calming.
The Fluffy Formerly Known As Prince watched silently knowing that his sister needed more than huggies to fix her. Sammy reached out to give him a reassuring pet on his head, “C’mon, Fluffy Formerly Known As Prince, let’s get you and your sister into a crate. Can you be good and not mess with the tubes that are going into Mocha? If you can be good, you two can share a crate.”
He nodded, “Fwuffy be gud fwuffy.” He held his arm up for upsies, “Pwease?” Sammy didn’t miss the darker fluff around his eyes, the tears soaked in.
“Of course!” With both hands he was lifted into the air, and into her embrace. Sammy gave him the biggest hug she could, without hurting a fragile fluffy. One arm supported his rump, the other stroking from the top of his head down to his tail. As if holding a child she rocked him a bit making a soft humming to help soothe him. “You’re a good boy, such a sweet boy.”
The warmth of the embrace was like nothing he could remember. There was a stirring in his memories of his mother holding him and singing the bestest mummah song. The Fluffy Formerly Known As Prince cried his little heart out, and Sammy held him until he was done.
Dr, Cheryl had Mocha and 'Tuffy in the crate well before Sammy showe up holding the the tuckered out Former Prince. She put him into the crate and he curled up right next to Mocha. Both fluffies quickly asleep, exhausted but for different reasons.
“So, doctor, we got a little conundrum if you will,” she waved absently at the crate. “You smacked their owner in the face with a stick and then told him to G T F O.” She smirked, it’s never a full shift when you’re around."
Cheryl leaned against the sink and sighed. “That wasn’t my finest moment, to say the least.”. She pinched the bridge of her nose, “well, no point in crying about it. I don’t think he’s going to be back. If he does come back, we have to return them. If he’s not back by the time Mocha is well enough to be discharged then we’ll be able to consider them abandoned property and can consider re-homing them.”
“You got him pretty good, I don’t think he’ll be back. You weild that sorry stick with such a grace and finesse.” Sammy grabbed a pen and waved it about, lightsaber noises included in the display.
Cheryl gave a short laugh, the tension finally releasing. “I’ve got a way with men, what can I say?” Their conversation interrupted by the next crisis, as expected of the emergency veterinarian services they provided.
“So, little guy,” Sammy asked, “have you thought of a new name?” She didn’t even wait for him to ask, she picked him up and scratched his favorite spot behind his ears.
“Nu… Fwuffy nu gud at namsies.” He reverted to just calling himself Fluffy. He giggled as Sammy spun around, dancing in the border room. “Fwuffy wub-” his mouth snapped shut, he couldn’t let himself enjoy this, he knew this wouldn’t last.
She felt him tense up in her arms. “Hey, how about I help? You’re such a pretty purple, let’s see… We could call you ‘Tulip’ or ‘Petunia’!” She tickled at his side, “how about Petunia?”
He squirmed from the ticking, his mood quickly brightened, “nu! Dose am giwly namsies!” He playfully tried to bop Sammy with his hoof.
“Okay, well, you won’t be playing guitar, but how about Jimi?” He looked confused, her statement going well above his tiny fluffy brain.
“Jimi? Fwuffy wike day name. Fwuffy am Jimi.” He nodded, very pleased with this new choice.
“You gave him a new name?” With how things were going, Cheryl wasn’t too surprised. Why not jump the gun on this too? “And what if he comes back for them? Then I’m going to have to tell him, ‘thanks for not pressing charges when I smacked you, oh, and we renamed your fluffy because you’re incompetent.’ did you really have to do that?” Cheryl rubbed her temples. She didnt expect Steve to return, but it couldn’t be ruled out.
“It’s been two weeks! And he was gonna come up with a new name anyway.” Sammy leaned back in the chair, and a grin crossed her face. “Wanna know what his new name is?”
“Oh God, what did you name him?”
“Jimi Hendrix!”
It took Cheryl a moment before she could respond. A short laugh burst from her mouth followed by, “get the fuck out and get back to work.”
“Miss Sammy?” Mocha asked as Jimi was returned to their crate. “Mocha wan huggies and dancies tu. Can mocha hab huggies and dancies?” She awkwardly stood and waddled to the crate door. She was still getting shots every other bright time, and she still had the IV. It had been changed out, now all four legs had patches of fluff shaved, each at varying regrowth of soft brown fluff. Currently it was in her rear left leg.
“Well, Miss Mocha, you did ask really really nicely. And you have been such a sweet girl.” Sammy was already opening the crate, “but, we gotta be real careful because of this bag. It’s fixing your owies, and if we aren’t careful it’ll give you big owies.”
She fell back onto her rump and held her arms up, “upsies!” Mocha squealed in delight as Sammy lifted her, hugged her, and danced around.
Jimi watched from the crate, his heart having such happies just watching his sister acting normal again.
It took a month before Mocha was mostly better. It didn’t surprise Dr Cheryl, one of the few things done right was their immune system. Most dogs would be on treatment for months, possibly until the end of their life if they survived. Mocha was a unique enough case that Chery documented the treatment and was working on her presentation at the next veterinarian convention.
She looked over her notes realizing she had read the same section half a dozen times. A light knock knock on her office door caused her to look up. Sammy didn’t wait to be invited in, they didn’t have that kind of relationship. Not after the years of working together.
“So, do you know why I’m here?”. Sammy asked as she sat down.
“Probably the same reason I’m reading the same page of notes for the last half hour.” It wasn’t a problem, not really, but part of her was afraid to ask. Because Sam could always say no. Because Mocha could potentially need treatment for months. Because maybe she doesn’t have the capacity for two more animals.
“I want them.”
Cheryl’s mouth opened and closed, trying to formulate the words.
“You look like a fish.”
“And you look like you don’t know what you’re getting into. Mocha may need treatment for months, or possibly her whole life. And her brother has gone through hell. And you work long hours. And-”
“I don’t know why you’re trying to convince me not to take them when this is literally what you want.” Sammy say back and crossed her arms. “Tell me I’m wrong.”
“You’re not wrong, and that’s part of the problem. You know damn well I feel responsible for everything those two went through.” She took a deep breath, “I know it’s not my fault. But even so, how are you going to work this out with your shifts?”
“Stop looking for problems, you’re not seeing the forest from the trees. On shifts where I’m not on nights, I can bring them here. This way you can keep monitoring Mocha for your paper you’re working on. Literally every issue you have I have an answer for.” Sammy had the biggest shit eating grin, it wasn’t often she got to feel that she won one over on Cheryl.
“Well, you two…” Sammy removed the IV from Mocha’s leg. “You’re doing so much better that you don’t need to stay here anymore.” Cheryl walked into the room, writing down more notes in Mocha’s file.
Jimi and Mocha looked at each other. “Wat dat mean,” Mocha asked first.
“Dat mean dummeh poopies nu daddeh gunna take fwuffies away.” Jimi was on the verge of tears as the words choked out.
“Well, maybe not.” Cheryl put down the file and gave both fluffies reassuring pets, “would you two like a new home? With a mummah that loves you so very much?” Two sets of eyes, hazel and lavender aim at Sammy. "Now, she is a silly girl. She loves huggies and dancies. Would you two like that? "
“Nyu mummah?” Jimi’s lips trembled.
Sammy scooped up both Mocha and Jimi into the biggest hug they ever had, and luckily for them, it wouldn’t be the last.