who preferred to undertake the act as a family rite of passage—I made house calls.
The day after I got Beck’s guitar back, I had to put three pets down—two in their homes.
Children are my kryptonite anyway, but watching a parent explain that a child’s pet was not simply going to sleep, that in fact their pet would never again wake up, was enough to scrape my heart raw.
I understood the instinct to acquaint children with the cycles of life. To educate them about the precious and finite nature of their pet’s time on earth. I honored my clients’ requests to allow children to be a part of the process when asked, but it was painful for me when I had to leave an entire family in tears.
At the end of the day, I accessed an emergency bottle of Jack I kept in the filing cabinet.
Lena tiptoed in. “You okay?”
“Sure,” I lied.
She came forward and rubbed my shoulders. I tried not to flinch, but she had a grip like a mobster. I barely kept from screaming. Eventually her touch went from intrusive to soothing. Maybe it was the whiskey.
“Better?”
I nodded. “Thank you. Go ahead and take off. I just have a few things to finish up here.”
“Beck’s with the kittens until April gets back from supper. You skipped lunch, so make sure you eat something healthy for dinner, otherwise you’ll be three sheets to the wind before you know it. And don’t drive.”
“I would never.”
“No ramen cups. No protein bars. Cook or order actual food.”
“Okay, okay.” As she walked away, I lobbed a crumpled Post-it her way. “I have a perfectly fine mother, you know.”
I immediately regretted my words when Beck appeared in the doorway with Callie at his heels. I resolved not to take my folks for granted. Beck held a kitten out for me.
“Blanche has got a gloopy eye,” he said. “Is that a thing?”
“Well, let’s take a look.” I was pretty grateful for something to do and maybe just a little too relaxed. I swung up from my desk chair and had to shake my head a little to clear it.
“Have you been drinking?” Beck’s eyes widened comically.
“A smidge.” Looking back, I probably exaggerated every movement, but I felt like I was the epitome of cool professionalism.
Lena nudged Beck on her way out, and I saw them exchange whispers.
“Knock it off, you two. No chismes.”
“Oh, there he goes.”
“You speak Spanish?” asked Beck.
I thumped my chest. “Soy bilingüe.”
“Okay. Bravo then.”
“Night, baby. Don’t be stupid.
“Lena,” I whined before going to an exam room, where I could get good light on the kitten, with Beck. “Any of the others have eye gunk?”
“No.”
“Not yet, probably.” I had a bit of difficulty putting on my gloves.
Beck snickered. “You sure you’re up to this? Maybe we should wait for April.”
“Oh, please. I got this.” I snapped the glove to prove I’d done it. “Most likely this is contagious.”
Beck’s eyes widened. “To me?”
“Nah. Wash your hands after handling them and don’t touch your face. You should be doing that anyway.”
He nodded. “Travis told me.”
“The other kittens will get it, though.”
He paled. “Oh, shoot. Is it because I did something wrong?”
“No, of course not.” I held the little girl kitten while I collected some of her eye gunk for tests. “This is common stuff. The younger they are, the more susceptible.”
He narrowed his eyes. “Okay, so how do I take care of them?”
“April will do what’s needed. We’ll monitor the others. They’ll be fine.”
“Okay.” He relaxed a bit.
We took the kitten back to the kennel where he’d been feeding them, and I settled into a chair next to his.
“So, who’s been fed and who still needs to eat? I’ll take one.”
“Rose is the only one left.”
“Cool, which is she?” He handed me a mewling, tabby spitfire. “Ah, Rose.”
“I named them in honor of the Golden Girls.” He shifted in his chair to hold his kitten out. “Like I said, this one is Blanche.”
“Ah.”
Beck cradled his kitten after she finished eating. “Before I started helping out here, I didn’t think I was a cat guy.”
“It’s hard to resist a kitten.”
“Yeah, but then they turn into cats. I never thought I could like them as much as I like dogs. I didn’t think they had much to offer.”
I studied his forearms, which were streaked with tiny claw marks. “Besides scratches, you mean?”
He wrinkled his nose. “There’s that.”
“People think cats don’t care about them or get attached to their families.” I hoped I didn’t sound like I was pontificating.