Chapter 28
Chapter twenty-eight
Noah
Istep out of the nurse's consulting room feeling lighter than I've ever felt in my life.
“Louise, Dr Calder will start with the X-ray in five minutes. Be ready.”
Louise nods and heads to the small X-ray room.
I keep calling directions like I’m producing a show, but unlike Stan, I'm doing it in front of the camera. It takes work, consciously crossing the prep room so I always pass people on the left rather than blocking the camera view.
As I step into the store area, I pause for Travis, the cameraman, to join me with his handheld camera, then gesture at my pocket.
“It's always a hard decision to remove puppies from their mother, but Honey has twelve puppies competing for ten teats.
So let's see where these little guys are going to live.”
The night nurse's room is like a tiny apartment.
A single bed, a table and chair, an armchair, a wall-mounted TV, and a small kitchenette.
There's a door to the bathroom, but this is all the comfort the nurses get during a night shift.
It's nice, but currently a little crowded.
Chloe is sitting on the floor, one arm stroking Figgy, who lies on the bed she's had since she arrived.
She's panting, her round belly heaving with pups.
On Chloe's lap is a blanket snuggled around Bobo.
“I’m returning the rest of your litter,” I whisper.
Figgy wags her tail at me, and Chloe's face lights up as I gently hand her Bunny.
“Do you have everything you need? Blankets? Milk? Cup of tea? Cushions under your bum?”
That last one was probably a little inappropriate for national TV, but I know what it's like to sit for hours on the cold floor with a whelping bitch.
“I've got a uh, birthing kit on the um armchair. There’s… I have three bottles for the next uh feed, and um Tree brought me a thermos of coffee.” Chloe tells the cameraman as she makes a fuss of snuggling Bunny and Sunny with their larger adopted brother. “But I, uh, yeah, would love a cushion.”
I see why they don’t let Chloe talk to the cameras now.
I grab her a cushion and slide it under her thighs as she lifts awkwardly for me. “And a phone so you can call when we enter active labor?”
Chloe's smile drops as she nods, fearing she'll be sidelined for the main event.
“Fab. I'll take the pups so you can be hands-free for the delivery, and I'll send someone as an extra pair of hands for you when you call.”
Any jealousy Chloe felt for me melts away as I hand her the lead for this delivery. If I can do it all alone, she is more than capable in a veterinary practice with help.
Leaving her in charge of Figgy's delivery is easy. Walking away from my little pocket pals is harder than I imagined.
The camera pans in on Chloe; she's getting the fifteen minutes she craved, and then we cut.
“You are a pro at this,” Travis compliments, leaving the room with the camera light off. “You could sell anything to anyone. Windows to the blind, as they say.”
“Blind people need windows too. They keep heat in and rain out.”
“That is the most Rhys thing you've ever said.” He chuckles. “You could sell paintings to the blind.”
“I should get myself some sponsorship deals.” I don't mean it, but smile at the thought, anyway.
“Your scrubs are sponsored by CottonSoft Workwear,” Travis announces bluntly.
“Wait, I have clothing sponsors?” I don't care that no money came my way from this deal; I just care that I have a brand sponsoring me. “Does Porsche do sponsorship deals?”
“Ask Harry about his Jarvis Hunt Range Rover. Perfect for muddy farms and product placement when the cameras pan around the practice.”
I guess the man is doing his part, even if he's too shy to appear himself.
Once the cameras are gone, I can relax a little, but I still have a busy practice to run on nothing more than Rhys's faith in me.
Standing back and observing is very informative, and somehow I manage to answer everyone's questions when they come up.
Danielle brings in a pet rabbit from one consultation, and I know exactly where to house it.
I amend my surgery list to fit it in for treatment after confirming the surgical nurse wants more responsibility and can do the treatment while Rhys gets a coffee break.
See, I can think about staff welfare too!
Poppy's operation goes well, and Tree phones Gladys with an update hours earlier than if Rhys did his order.
The more I do this, the more I feel confident that I can do it.
Like running a puppy farm, but instead of doing everything myself, I just say the task out loud and consider it done.
Rather than staggering lunch breaks, I bring operations to a halt and send all but one nurse to eat together. It feels pretty good to dismiss all the vets to go eat at the same time. Oddly, they sit in their cars rather than the staffroom, where all the nurses are laughing and joking.
“Best morning ever,” Tammy grins.
I've never met her before, but she's on a late shift today, so I picked her to stop here and monitor recovering animals, giving her a later meal, closer to midway through her shift. It's nice experiencing the space so empty and calm.
“I was worried you'd hate me bossing you around,” I confess.
“No, it's great. You see stuff we don't, and we can fix it instantly rather than later and desperate but busy.”
This validation from a stranger who has only ever seen me in this role is huge. It almost makes me want to find where my silly vet is hiding so I can request another hug.
Instead, I lean against the prep room counter and look around the quiet practice.
The farm never looked like this. There was always something screaming for attention. A dog fighting, a puppy fading, a gate broken, a water bowl tipped over. If something stopped for a moment, it just meant something worse was about to happen.
Here, the calm actually means that the work is being done.
Animals are recovering. Nurses are eating lunch. The vets are hiding in their cars pretending they’re not avoiding the noise of the staff room.
And somehow the whole place is still running.
Because of me. Not because I did everything. Because I didn’t have to.
The thought makes my stomach twist with a strange mix of pride and disbelief.
Maybe Rhys was right. Maybe I don’t have to do everything myself. Maybe all I needed was enough people around me to carry the pieces.
Tammy checks one of the recovering dogs and scribbles something on the chart before glancing up at me.
“You’re good at this, you know.”
I open my mouth to argue automatically, but for once the words don’t come.
Instead, I just nod.