concerned?”
“Her broken pelvis,” says Denise. She stands up, takes the cat’s pointy face in her hands, and plants a kiss on its black nose. “She’s, like, an indoor cat. Or supposed to be. She escaped, years ago, gone for, like, a week and when she came back she was all, like, skin and bones and dragging her legs. Doc Cobb, you know, the vet who died, he looked at Tina for me, even though I had no money and he was like, ‘ah, she’ll heal just fine.’ Guess he was right.
“Thing is, he said to get her sprayed .” Denise works a little attitude into her eyes.
Sprayed . I’m pretty sure that’s not quite what he said, but I don’t interrupt.
“Yeah right, like, how was I supposed to do that? I was a kid and my old man wasn’t going to pay for it. So I’d lock her in my room when she got horny. Worked fine, ’til I got roommates. They’re all in and out all day, you know.”
“And Tina got out and got pregnant?”
“Right. Bit like me, I guess.”
This conversation is becoming increasingly disturbing. It ignites the familiar itch at the back of my head.
“Doc Lewis took an X-ray of Tina’s belly two weeks ago. There’s only one kitten. He says it’s like, really big, and Tina’s pelvis healed crooked. She might not pass it on her own and I can’t afford a C-section. I don’t have a job and”—she taps her belly, flashes a phony smile—“guess who ain’t gettin’ one any time soon. Don’t have the money for my own baby let alone my cat’s baby. But I’m here, seeing you, ready to pay, ’cause she’s like my little sister, and right now, she’s the only family I got.”
Denise stares up at me with big, green, wet eyes. What’s with this preemptive crying over pets? Chances are Tina will be fine. Last thing I need right now is a reputation for reducing an impoverished pregnant teenager to tears. I grab a wad of tissues from a box on the counter, just in case.
“My old man kicked me out when he found out I was pregnant. There’s no father for the baby. This little cat has listened to my crap for years. She never once tried to get one over on me, never burst my bubble, she don’t give me lip, and she lets me think I know best, even if we both know I don’t. I need Tina and Tina needs me. I won’t let her down.”
Somehow she keeps the tears in check. Denise notices the unemployed tissues in my hand and appears to be puzzled.
“You gonna cry on me?”
I drop the tissues in the trash.
“Of course not. Don’t you have anyone to help you out? What about your roommates?”
“They’re all in Cancún. Planned the trip before I got pregnant. Guess who lost her deposit?”
I look at Denise and then look at Tina. “You two make quite the pair,” I say, running my hand along the cat’s spine and getting a little “up periscope” action from Tina’s tail. “Best keep our fingers crossed that neither one of you has to worry about a C-section.”
If Tina the cat gets into distress as she goes into labor, Doc Lewis is going to have to be the one to cut her open and deliver her kitten. As a veterinary student I never performed even the most minor of feline surgeries, let alone something complex like a C-section.
“Don’t worry, I’ll check in with Doc Lewis and let him know we’ve met. You have our number, and remember you can call us anytime, day or night, if anything starts to be a problem.”
“What am I looking for, again?”
Okay, I think I can rattle off some of the general signs of pending labor but I promise to check in on the veterinary textbooks and call Denise if I discover something useful. “Vaginal discharge. Pushing and straining without success. You know, bearing down. Getting weak, trembling, or vomiting.”
“Pretty much like me?”
“Correct. But I’m sure you’ll both be fine.” I offer Tina one more gentle pat to the head, pick her up, grunt at her weight as I place her back in the carrier.
“Let me walk you out to your car,” I
“Her broken pelvis,” says Denise. She stands up, takes the cat’s pointy face in her hands, and plants a kiss on its black nose. “She’s, like, an indoor cat. Or supposed to be. She escaped, years ago, gone for, like, a week and when she came back she was all, like, skin and bones and dragging her legs. Doc Cobb, you know, the vet who died, he looked at Tina for me, even though I had no money and he was like, ‘ah, she’ll heal just fine.’ Guess he was right.
“Thing is, he said to get her sprayed .” Denise works a little attitude into her eyes.
Sprayed . I’m pretty sure that’s not quite what he said, but I don’t interrupt.
“Yeah right, like, how was I supposed to do that? I was a kid and my old man wasn’t going to pay for it. So I’d lock her in my room when she got horny. Worked fine, ’til I got roommates. They’re all in and out all day, you know.”
“And Tina got out and got pregnant?”
“Right. Bit like me, I guess.”
This conversation is becoming increasingly disturbing. It ignites the familiar itch at the back of my head.
“Doc Lewis took an X-ray of Tina’s belly two weeks ago. There’s only one kitten. He says it’s like, really big, and Tina’s pelvis healed crooked. She might not pass it on her own and I can’t afford a C-section. I don’t have a job and”—she taps her belly, flashes a phony smile—“guess who ain’t gettin’ one any time soon. Don’t have the money for my own baby let alone my cat’s baby. But I’m here, seeing you, ready to pay, ’cause she’s like my little sister, and right now, she’s the only family I got.”
Denise stares up at me with big, green, wet eyes. What’s with this preemptive crying over pets? Chances are Tina will be fine. Last thing I need right now is a reputation for reducing an impoverished pregnant teenager to tears. I grab a wad of tissues from a box on the counter, just in case.
“My old man kicked me out when he found out I was pregnant. There’s no father for the baby. This little cat has listened to my crap for years. She never once tried to get one over on me, never burst my bubble, she don’t give me lip, and she lets me think I know best, even if we both know I don’t. I need Tina and Tina needs me. I won’t let her down.”
Somehow she keeps the tears in check. Denise notices the unemployed tissues in my hand and appears to be puzzled.
“You gonna cry on me?”
I drop the tissues in the trash.
“Of course not. Don’t you have anyone to help you out? What about your roommates?”
“They’re all in Cancún. Planned the trip before I got pregnant. Guess who lost her deposit?”
I look at Denise and then look at Tina. “You two make quite the pair,” I say, running my hand along the cat’s spine and getting a little “up periscope” action from Tina’s tail. “Best keep our fingers crossed that neither one of you has to worry about a C-section.”
If Tina the cat gets into distress as she goes into labor, Doc Lewis is going to have to be the one to cut her open and deliver her kitten. As a veterinary student I never performed even the most minor of feline surgeries, let alone something complex like a C-section.
“Don’t worry, I’ll check in with Doc Lewis and let him know we’ve met. You have our number, and remember you can call us anytime, day or night, if anything starts to be a problem.”
“What am I looking for, again?”
Okay, I think I can rattle off some of the general signs of pending labor but I promise to check in on the veterinary textbooks and call Denise if I discover something useful. “Vaginal discharge. Pushing and straining without success. You know, bearing down. Getting weak, trembling, or vomiting.”
“Pretty much like me?”
“Correct. But I’m sure you’ll both be fine.” I offer Tina one more gentle pat to the head, pick her up, grunt at her weight as I place her back in the carrier.
“Let me walk you out to your car,” I
Similar Books
