Chapter 4
Cari
Present Day
T hese conversations are always hard. I cradle the twenty-two-year-old cat in my arms, stroking her matted, gray fur. Her eyes are hazy, but her rusty purr tells me that she’s still in there.
“She’s not in pain, so I think if we keep her thyroid under control, she’ll have a good quality of life. It’s just a matter of whether you can manage the infusions,” I say gently to her owner, Tristan Vance. He and his ancient kitty, Imp, are frequent flyers at my vet clinic due to her age and multitude of conditions. This is the second time he’s been in this week.
“I can do it,” he says, all brash confidence. He flashes me a bright-white smile as he slips off his suit jacket and rolls up his shirt sleeves, exposing his muscular forearms. They flex as he picks up the carrier he brought her in. “I’ll rearrange my schedule. It’s no problem. If I have to travel for work, I’ll hire a kitty nurse.”
“No one would blame you if you decide that it’s best to…” I swallow the lump in my throat. Maybe these conversations are difficult because my blind old dog, Radar is getting up there in years. Eventually, I’ll have to make a call like this.
“I can do it.” Tristan squares his broad shoulders optimistically. “With your help? She’ll make it to thirty.”
He holds open the carrier door, and I gently place her inside the plush interior that he had customized for her medical needs. As a high-powered investor without a wife or kids, Tristan has a lot of disposable wealth to spoil his cat. Unlike most pet owners, cost is never an issue when he’s deciding what care she should receive.
“Impy is a lucky, lucky girl to have you.”
He latches the carrier door, his smile spreading. “I like to think I’m the lucky one.”
“I wish more people were like you, Tristan.” I pat his arm and open the exam-room door, stifling my yawn. It’s been a long day, my feet hurt, and I squeezed in Tristan and Imp after closing because her situation is so delicate. “Cynthia will get you checked out at the front desk.”
He hesitates in the doorway. “I hope this isn’t too forward, but would you like to get a drink later? Last time I asked, it was the middle of kitten season so you were slammed, but I thought now might be a better time.”
I cough to cover my surprise. I was pretty sure I’d made it clear last time that I wasn’t interested. Someone as handsome as him probably isn’t used to being turned down. “I’m sorry, Tristan. As a rule, I don’t date the owners of my patients.”
His face almost blurs as it cycles through a series of emotions, landing on his dazzling smile. “Oh, I meant as friends, of course. We have so much in common, it would be fun to spend time together outside of the clinic. I do a lot of work with animal charities that you might be interested in.”
He knew just the right button to push. Charity work is my passion. I already spend my Saturdays doing free spay-and-neuter for local shelters, but I’d love to do more. But his interest in me is pretty transparent, and I know that any meet-up, especially over drinks, is just a date in disguise.
“That’s cool! Why don’t you email me more info about them, and I’ll take a look.” I usher him out and close the door behind him before he can come up with another reason.
I wait until his footsteps fade and the clinic-door bells let me know that he’s gone. It’s only then that I spot his expensive wool suit jacket draped over the back of one of the chairs in the exam room. I have to laugh. Oldest trick in the book.
I grab it and take it out to the front desk where Cynthia, the angel of my clinic operation, is restocking the waiting room with pamphlets and tissues. She straightens up when I put the jacket on her desk, her dyed-red bob swinging around her soft jawline.
“He forgot this,” I explain. “Can you text him so he can stop by in the morning to pick it up?”
Cynthia’s kind, lined face cracks. “I doubt he needs the reminder. I heard what he asked you. You should put the man out of his misery and let him take you on a date.”
Panic flares in my belly, but I push it down. “You know I don’t date clients.”
Or anyone. Haven’t dated for years. Not since vet school when I started receiving the messages with fuzzy photos taken of me from afar. Voice mails promising that “we’ll be together soon.” I blocked the senders, but then weird packages showed up in the mail instead. Locks of hair. Maps with coordinates marked in remote areas of the Cascade Mountains.
I went to the cops. The police said the stalking was probably due to my social media presence. My dog blog about Radar, with over a million followers, paid my vet school tuition, but it also meant I got a lot of attention, some of it unwanted.
I did everything right to make the stalker go away. Changed phone numbers, made a new email account. Paid an assistant to screen my mail. Scrubbed my face from my socials so my posts only showed Radar. Stopped looking at DMs. It worked for a while.
But then the gestures escalated to gifts on my doorstep. Not regular gifts, strange ones. Broken sticks. Stacked rocks. Bundles of wildflowers and grass. Stuff the cops didn’t take seriously.
So I moved. But it only took the stalker a few weeks to find me again, and the little gifts didn’t stop until I graduated, changed my last name, and moved out of state.
Sometimes I still can’t shake that feeling that someone’s following me. Watching me. And I can’t tell if the nice guy at the bookstore who buys my coffee or the pet-parent in my clinic who asks me out are just my stalker getting close again.
“I understand, honey,” Cynthia says kindly. She knows my history. Everyone who works at the clinic does, just in case. “We can’t live in the past forever, though. Don’t let those wounds keep you from having a good life. You deserve someone amazing like Tristan. Even if it’s not him, love is out there for you.”
She hugs me, and my eyes well. I’m so lucky to have sweet, supportive friends like her. “You’re right. You’re right. I’ll be more open-minded.”
She nudges the jacket on her desk, a twinkle in her eye. “You sure you don’t want to hang onto this so you can give it back to him in person?”
I laugh. “I’m positive. I wasn’t lying when I turned him down. I really do have a policy against dating clients.”
Plus… I’ve never admitted it to anyone, but I’m not really attracted to human men. Not even stunningly handsome ones like Tristan. Maybe it’s because my first love, Zed, the one that got away, was a dragon. It’s like I imprinted on him, and since then I compare every guy I meet to him.
They never measure up. Even if they adore Radar like he did. Even if they’re as sweet and funny and considerate and charming as he was.
They don’t have eyes that glow when they look at me. They don’t have gleaming horns that curve away from their forehead or stunning red scales or prehensile tails that brush my ankles when we walk in the forest. And when we make it to the bedroom, they definitely don’t have two delicious-looking dicks between their legs.
Not that I ever got to taste his. One of my biggest regrets in life.
“You’re blushing,” Cynthia observes. I cover my cheeks with my hands, and she giggles girlishly, despite the fact that she’s uncomfortably close to retirement age. “Well, whoever you’re thinking about, maybe let him take you on a date.”
I nod and rush back to my office before I get even more emotional. I never got a date with Zed. I spent six months waiting for him to ask me out, and when he finally did, everything went wrong. He was so injured during his shift that he ended up in the hospital for weeks. I wasn’t allowed to visit him, and my get-well-soon cards went unanswered.
While Zed was recovering, my dad bullied his hive into paying for the home repairs in exchange for dropping the unauthorized shifting charges against him. Then, rather than fixing the house or turning the check over to the landlord, he used the money to move us to another town. No wonder Zed never contacted me again.
Not that I contacted him, either. I just sat there and hoped he’d find me. Every time I posted a photo or video of Radar on the internet, a little part of me hoped he’d see it and comment. That’s why I’ve kept the account going even though I don’t need the income anymore.
Maybe that’s part of my problem. Not only am I living in the past, I’ve been too passive. I wouldn’t have to worry that a guy is a stalker if I asked him out.
Radar lifts his head from his napping spot in the corner of my office, nostrils flaring, when I enter. He whines a yawn and staggers to his feet, waiting for me to clip on his harness. He may be an old dog, but he still loves his evening walk through the park on the way home.
“Just give me an extra sec, buddy.” I sit down at my desk and open my laptop. The profile picture of our @SeeRadarRun account stares back at me with a closeup of Radar’s cute, cloudy eyes. I ignore the blinking notifications tab that always makes me panic a little and instead scroll through the grid of photos and videos I’ve shot over the last decade. “We’ve had a good run, haven’t we?”
It's almost like Radar knows what’s going on, the way he plops down on the ground next to me and wags his little tail.
I take a deep breath and write what’s in my heart.
Goodbye and Thank You from Radar & Me ??
For over a decade, you’ve watched Radar navigate life’s little challenges, celebrated his milestones, and shared in his endless joy. Along the way, millions of you helped me follow my dream of becoming a veterinarian. Your views, likes, comments, and shares funded my education, and I’ll never be able to thank you enough for giving me that opportunity.
Radar has taught me more than I could ever express—about resilience, unconditional love, and the beauty of difference. Through him, I’ve learned that every challenge can be met with creativity and compassion. I hope that by sharing his story, we’ve helped others understand that disabilities don’t define the worth of a life.
To each of you who followed us, commented, shared advice, and encouraged me through the years: thank you from the bottom of my heart. You’ve not only changed my life, but you’ve shown the world how amazing a dog like Radar can be. So many special-needs pets have found homes because of you.
While today marks the end of this chapter, I hope you’ll carry Radar’s lessons of love and perseverance with you, too. Thank you for being a part of our journey.
???? Cari & Radar
I upload it with a single pawprint image and turn off comments.