“Sure,” she said with a more genuine smile this time. “We can just add it to the final bill. What color do you want?”
Matt turned to Piper questioningly. “Not pink?”
She frowned, but there was a hint of a smile about her mouth. “Not pink.” He watched her apple green gaze roam over the shelving. “I wouldn’t normally choose anything beige, but in this case I think the alternatives will freak Miss Cat out.”
The veterinarian, Dr. Uvi, was a thin man in his mid-twenties with more than a few hours’ beard growth on his face. He smiled and tapped on the records screen next to the examination table. “So…” His accent sounded Eastern European. “We have a pregnant cat with an injured tail, correct?”
“That’s right,” Piper said as he tentatively pried apart the cardboard flaps on top of the box. “I came home and found her like this. She seems to be in pain by the way she’s licking and fussing over her tail.”
The vet gently lifted the large bundle of fur from the box. The cat was so startled, or stressed perhaps, that she hunched stiffly on the cold surface and made no attempt to escape or lash out. “Hi there, kitty, I’m not going to hurt you.” He carefully eased her tail out from under her back legs. “And her name is?”
Matt heard Piper exhale shortly through her nose. “Cat.”
The doctor looked up at her briefly and appeared to decide it would be best to concentrate on the animal in front of him.
“You should give the poor thing a name,” Matt whispered as the vet felt around the cat’s abdomen and peered into her eyes with a slim mini-flashlight.
“I should do a lot of things,” she hissed back. “But maybe you’d like to choose one as you’re so generously footing the bill.”
Man, she was prickly. “I’ll take you up on that when we’re out of here.”
Her chin jerked upwards. “Good, you do that, Superman.”
Matt leaned over and whispered into her ear. “Can you cut it out? You’re making this guy feel uncomfortable when we should both be concerned for a distressed animal, not scoring points on who can be more snarky.”
Piper leaned away and frowned like he had a bad smell around him. “I didn’t want to give her a name because I was convinced her real owner would show up. She’s such a pretty thing. I didn’t want to get too emotionally attached in case…” She shrugged and looked at the floor.
“Ah, I see.” Dr. Uvi clicked his light off and rubbed his chin. “Then maybe we should see if she has a microchip before we go any further?”
Matt watched Piper’s shoulders tense as she said, “Cats can have microchips?”
The vet nodded. “I’d be surprised to find a nice Bengal like this without one.”
“Is that what she is? I wondered what breed she was with that spotty tummy and those big markings.” The vet picked up a white plastic paddle-shaped device and Piper’s hand flew to her chest. “So if there’s a microchip, she goes back to her owner?”
An uncomfortable silence followed. Uvi shrugged and gave Matt a loaded look. Piper’s eyes suddenly looked over-bright and her chin quivered for a second until Matt reached out and put his hand on her shoulder. “It would be the right thing to do,” he murmured as Dr. Uvi waved the microchip wand up and down the length of the cat’s body.
“No chip,” Dr. Uvi said with a smile. “I’ll just check the online missing cat register. How long have you had her with you?”
“About a month,” Piper murmured and looked at her toes. “I put an ad in the local newspaper and some posters in store windows around town, but nobody’s come forward.”
“That was exactly the right thing to do. Generally, if an original owner can’t be traced within a week, you can consider her yours.” He looked at her seriously. “If that’s what you both want to do. Pets are a huge commitment.”
“Um, we’re not together actually,” Piper said awkwardly.
Matt responded to the vet’s curious look. “Just a friend.”
“But I want to keep her,” Piper added. “And I’ll take good care of her.”
“Okay, that’s the good news out of the way.” Dr. Uvi tickled the fur between the cat’s ears. “I can’t save the exposed bit of her tail. I’m afraid it needs to be amputated–just half an inch or so, and it won’t affect her long term.”
Piper looked alarmed. “Are you sure?”
“I’m sure.” His voice dropped into a sympathetic tone. “I would never resort to surgery unless absolutely necessary, but it’s the kindest thing to do. She’s in pain and at high risk of infection. Cats are very good at hiding pain, it’s a defense mechanism, but trust me when I say she’s hurting and will be much happier if I operate.”
As if in agreement, the cat snapped her head around and attacked the end of her tail, her claws skittering on the smooth surface of the examination table as she spun around twice before being restrained by the vet.
“Poor little thing,” Piper said and sniffed. “Please, just fix her.”
“I’d say her pregnancy is about halfway through, which gives us four or five weeks to get the op done and for her to recover before she births.” Dr. Uvi made soothing noises, but held the cat firmly. “So should I book her in for you?”
She nodded and a tear slipped from under her closed eyelids and ran down her cheek. Matt felt a sick lurch in the pit of his stomach. The silent, raw emotion emanating from her was almost tangible and his throat ached as he reached out, took her cold hand in his, and squeezed. She squeezed his hand back and sniffed quietly.
“I’ll put a dressing on the site for now so she doesn’t worry it and make things worse.” Dr. Uvi clicked away at his keyboard. “She’ll be fine with that for a couple of days. Just make sure she doesn’t rip it off, and I’ll give you some pain meds to take with you today. I would book you in first thing in the morning, but looking at the weather forecast, there’s no guarantee that any of us will make it out here too easily.”
“Okay.” Piper frowned as she watched him fill a syringe. “What’s that?”
“Antibiotics.” The cat snarled and hissed as he approached with the needle, suddenly very much awake and feeling the need to vent her displeasure at all this indignity. “And I’ll need to shave some more fur from the tail. The surgical site needs to be clean near that wound and, well, you might not want to know the details of the operation, but it is necessary, so we might as well do it now. Perhaps you’d like to wait outside while I get the nurse to help me?”