Page 45 of Vetted for Vengeance
“I know, they need the colostrum milk first.”
“It still wouldn't work. Four days is too much. Those puppies would be stronger and just crush Lumpy and… er… which one is Bumpy?”
“But she can't nurse twelve, and you won't let me reduce the litter size,” I protest. “Even with ten, she'll need my help with feeding.”
“Stop thinking like a one-man-band.” His hand covers mine, cupping Bunny in a finger cocoon.
“If we help Bunny, I’ll get attached, and then I’ll be sad when he…”
“Give him a chance. This is the best place for them. Eight weeks of around the clock veterinary care, fully funded by the council and film crew.”
He's telling me to give them a chance. This man who butchers men in his secret basement has a soft spot for runts.
I smile for a moment before realizing what that makes me. He kills bullies and moves mountains for runts.
Honey lifts her head, her sad, soppy eyes finding me with more recognition this time. Her tail wags against the soft bedding.
“Hey. You have babies. Last time, so enjoy what you can of it.” Her nose follows my fingers, warm and damp against my skin, hoping for strokes, but she finds her little sausage-shaped pup at the end and instantly gives him a little lick. The pup doesn't respond, kneading his little feet into her skin as he suckles.
“Right, Lumpy and Bumpy. Time’s up.” The two fat pups are gently removed from the back nipples, and I have a try at latching Bunny and Sunny in their places. “Sorry, tiny guys, but you have to share with your siblings.”
Bunny finds a nipple and latches on, giving a few small sucks, but then falls off. I move him back and leave my fingers under his butt to help him stay.
“I guess my fingers are stuck here until the backup team arrives.”
Rhys nods, accepting it without complaint.
So I stay where I am, holding the smallest puppy in the litter in place while he tries to drink.
And for once, no one tells me to hurry.
Chapter twenty-three
Rhys
“Welcome to another episode of Follow the Vet,” I greet the camera. “Today we’ll be meeting some patients during morning rounds, and Noah will tell you more about the dogs entering our adoption program. But first, we have Poppy here with her owner, Gladys, for an update on her surgery.”
I smile directly at the camera for four seconds before the director, Stan, calls cut, and we stop recording. This is becoming all about Noah, and I don’t actually mind. Before, I was the face of the practice, introducing our patients and their treatments; now I’m the face of the show, introducing Noah, and whichever dog he’s chosen to feature. The audience will be more interested in Noah than an old dog with kidney issues, and that's fine by me, because I'm more interested in Noah too.
I navigate around the cameras and the cables, finding filming days actually fit my controlling nature far better than days when the surgery is open. The film crew run about, and my staff are directed into position and scripted for the next scene, but my role feels perfectly organized.
“Okay, Dr Calder. Could we have you in the kennels giving an update on Toffee and her puppies? The audience has been following her since day one.”
I can do that, moving to my position where Noah is waiting. He's standing perfectly still while our hair and makeup team fusses around him.
“Don't forget to check his pockets,” I joke. “Always finding puppies asleep in there.”
“Traitor,” he calls back. “It was just the one time.”
One time he got caught. It seems he's still struggling to let Honey nurse all twelve pups. Either he’s got the runts tucked away to keep them warm, or he’s taken the biggest so the smaller pups can get to the milk.
“Are we ready?” The producer calls, entering the kennels.
“Yes, we are.” I look at Noah, waiting for his nod of agreement.
“Perfect.” Stan replies. “We want to focus on Toffee, and her feelings about being here. Being saved, awaiting adoption. We need to mention the open weekend and adoption process for the end of the month. The website has interest forms and profiles for all the dogs evaluated as eligible for adoption.”
“Toffee's feelings?” Noah frowns, standing up slowly. “She's gone from her kennel where she has enough room to walk around and can take herself outside to pee whenever she wants, to being trapped in a tiny box where strangers walk past her all the time. Is that what you want me to say?”
