Page 12 of Hunter or Hunted

Her glistening tears eventually turned to heavy weeps.

Some may have offered her a hug. I wasn’t that touchy-feely. I gave her a pat on the hand instead. She squeezed harder than I knew a lady of her age was capable of.

Together, we sat, and we mourned.

Buttons had been a patient of mine for three years. Collectively, I still hadn’t spent as much time with him as Gwen had with Delilah. Yet, I mourned.

If some big bad monster had caused his kidney disease, I, too, would plan their murder. Because this wasn’t right.

He was just a sweet, innocent little cat. Barring his scratch fest whenever I tried to stab him with a needle, he never hurt anyone. All he did was lie around and chase laser pointers and cuddle with Glenna and the other cats.

Thirteen years weren’t enough. Purity like that sweet boy deserved eternity. He was a good cat, and he deserved more time. He deserved the years that Evan had taken from Delilah. He deserved the years Evan had left.

Half an hour must’ve passed before Glenna struggled out, “Matt used to dig the holes, but I don’t think I’m strong enough for that anymore. I wouldn’t be able to get through the ice. Do you know what else I could do with him?”

“We work with a very kind crematorium,” I said. “I can get everything started. They’ll call you and give you different options for his ashes.”

“Yeah, I’d appreciate that. Thank you. And thank you for coming. If he could’ve chosen it, I know this is how he would’ve wanted to go.”

It wasn’t the first and wouldn’t be the last time I came to a patient’s house. If it were my pet, I wouldn’t want to take them to the place they hated, where they knew they’d be poked and prodded, for their final moments.

All I could choke out was, “It’s no problem.”

“Are you going to take him with you now, then?” she whispered.

“I can, or I can come back and grab him in a little while.”

Unable to meet my gaze, she shook her head. “Just give me a few minutes to let them all sniff him. That way, they know he’s gone.”

I needed a few minutes too, or I was going to break down sobbing, right here, right now. “Of course.”

When I made it to the truck, I carefully laid Buttons in the passenger seat. Glenna had wrapped him in a blue fleece blanket. I kept one hand on his body.

Couldn’t really say why. It just didn’t feel right to treat him like a bag of groceries or fast food.

Once I turned the engine over, I went into my contacts and scrolled. When I reached Langston, I pressed the green button. As the dial tone rang, I stared out my windshield at the snow falling onto the street ahead of me. A maintenance guy in an orange vest spread rock salt onto the icy cobblestone sidewalks. At the end of the street, just before the white gazebo, the fifteen-foot Christmas tree twinkled in all its glory.

A woman answered, “Martha at Langston Crematorium speaking. How can I help you?”

“Hey, Martha, it’s Sebastian Everett,” I said. “How are you doing?”

“Not my best, if I’m being honest.” Her gravelly sigh echoed through the speaker. “Guess you’re not doing too great either, calling the crematorium a few days before Christmas.”

“Yeah, I’ve seen better days,” I muttered. “Just had to do a euthanasia on a very sweet, very sick little cat. I wasn’t sure if you guys had closed up for the holidays yet, so I figured I’d give you a call before I tagged him and everything.”

“I’m actually the only one here right now, just managing some paperwork, but business as usual come Monday morning.”

“Sounds good. I’ll put the remains on ice until then,” I said. “Not doing your best though, huh? Everything alright?”

Maybe a presumptuous question, but I had been working with Langston Crematorium since opening my office. Martha ran the administrative part of the business. My patients had nothing but kind things to say about her from the start. Martha walked them through the different options they had for their pets’ ashes. She always made sure to get their paw and nose prints formed on a clay pad before the cremation. They offered a lovely array of urns, even jewelry the ashes could be placed in.

As such, Martha and I had built a rapport. She was an older lady, pushing retirement, who was normally the most bubbly, kindhearted, lively person. I couldn’t think of one time in all these years when she made her days sound like anything less than a gift from God.

“Well, Mr. Langston passed last week,” she said, sorrow gripping the edges of her voice. “If that’s not bad enough, the kids are talking about selling. When I talked to Emily about it, all she kept saying was ‘she doesn’t want to be in the dead-pets business.’ Which I guess I can understand to some extent, but I’ve been pretty much running this place for thirty years. Now God only knows. Won’t be long, and I could be out of a job.”

“Oh, shit,” I said under my breath. “I’m so sorry. For your loss, and for all that. I know you guys were friends.”

“You work with someone for that long, and how can you not be?” Another deep, breathy sigh. “I don’t know, kid. Just a hard week. Anyhow, something to keep in mind going forward. You might need to find another crematorium here soon.”