Page 7 of Growing Into Love

The last pup comes out and I hear Clive murmur, “Oh no.”

My heart drops into my stomach. I know that tone of voice and it can only mean one thing.

Death is the hardest part of my job.

“Let me see,” I say quickly, coming around to the other end of the exam table. The pup looks to be stillborn. “Towel,” I say to Clive, who whirls around and grabs a clean towel from the cabinet by the sink. I wrap the little guy up gently and start to rub him with the towel, encouraging blood flow. “Clear his airway,” I instruct, and Clive gets out the suction tube. “Carefully,” I remind him and he takes a deep breath and nods. He cleans out the pup’s mouth as I keep rubbing. Suddenly, the little one makes a coughing, wheezing sound.

“Life finds a way,” Clive says in awe. He sounds like Declan’s gran.

“Is that a Bible quote or something?” I ask.

He frowns. “Jeff Goldblum. Jurassic Park.”

I laugh, giddy with relief at the life we just saved. That doesn’t happen every day. Death is a vet’s constant companion.

“Here you go, girl,” I say to Godiva, putting the small pup next to her so she can lick him clean. The others are nestled among the blankets covering the exam table and they start to crawl their way over to their mum in search of milk. “Stay here, I’ll go give Mrs. Pritz the good news.”

I leave the exam room and walk to the tiny lobby of my office. Mrs. Pritz is on the couch with some knitting, and she jumps to her feet when she sees me.

“How is she?” she asks.

“She’s fine,” I say, giving her a reassuring pat on the shoulder. “We had a little trouble with the last pup but everything worked out. Seven puppies in all.”

“Seven, my lord,” she says, putting her hand to her chest.

“I can help you find adopters for them once they’re old enough,” I say.

“You’re a saint, Jasar, an absolute saint.”

“Just doing my job. Come on back and see her.”

“I can’t believe a handsome young man such as yourself doesn’t have a special woman in his life,” Mrs. Pritz says as we walk back to the exam room. Here we go. If you are single and live within a twelve-mile radius of Hart’s Crossing, you can bet your boots that Mrs. Pritz will try to fix you up with someone.

“I guess it’s what the fates designed for me,” I say.

“Oh posh. You can’t leave something like that up to fate. Now, what about Sylvia Wycroft? She’s available.”

Sylvia is a waitress at the Stag. I know for a fact she’s never quite gotten over her crush on Declan.

“She’s a lovely girl,” I agree. “But not right for me.”

“Yes, you’re far too bright.”

I open the door and she gasps. “Oh my sweet girl, look at all your precious babies!” She goes to stroke Godiva’s head while I do a quick check of the puppies. They all look healthy and well, even the runt of the litter. “What about Cass Wright?” Mrs. Pritz says.

“Pardon?”

“Cassandra Wright,” Mrs. Pritz says, overenunciating her name. “Declan’s sister.”

As if I don’t know who she is. But what’s Mrs. Pritz on about?

“She’s single. And very resistant to my suggestions.” Mrs. Pritz sniffs. “Quite a cheeky lass, but sharp as a tack. And such a lovely face.”

“Cass is like family, Mrs. Pritz,” I say. Not to mention Declan’s little sister.

“Very well, I know when my opinion’s not wanted.” She turns to Clive. “You’re a handsome lad. Have you met Cassandra Wright?”

Clive frowns. “Cass from Oak Hill Farm? Sure, I’ve met her.”

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