I went to pick up my dog’s heartworm medication today from our vet, who we’ve gone to for ages. We know the office staff well, and I happened to hit around lunchtime so it was just me and the office manager in the place.
As I was paying, she kept giving me furtive looks, and then glancing at the door. Like, hella weird looks. She was finally like, “Do you wanna see something?”
This is a very loaded question, at a vet’s office. I could be presented with a cute dog or a tapeworm on the backside of this question, idk.
She reaches under the counter and pulls out an empty tissue box. Inside is a washcloth, and THE TINIEST GODDAMN KITTEN I’VE EVER SEEN.
Brenda is great at her job but a brusque person in general, but as we were standing with this little mouse-sized fluffball between us, she was practically vibrating with excitement and affection.
“He’s three days old,” she whispered, as if worried she’d wake him up. “Some of our clients found him alone in their yard, without any littermates, and the mom cat never came back.”
He had formula on his whiskers, and little pointy mouse-sized ears, and was wallowing on the washcloth like a little bean who had just eaten well for the first time in days. He looked so happy. Almost as happy as Brenda.
“My husband and I lost our last cat a few months ago. We’ve always wanted a black cat. We’re going to name him tonight.”
Godspeed little dude, you just won the life lottery.
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