Joni
Dr. Abernathy comes running while I’m still on my knees, begging Oliver to get up, knowing as the words leave my mouth that he can’t.
I hear him, and I nod, because I know what’s happening, but I feel like I’m watching it unfold from outside my body.
“He was fine, and then he just . . . went down. He hardly ate yesterday, but he was better this morning. I ran as soon as I saw his legs wobble, but I couldn’t get to him in time.”
“Listen to me. You did get to him in time. You did everything right. Don’t panic now. The calmer we are, the better it is for him. We can do this, you and me. Do you have a heavy blanket we can use for a sling?”
Enzo’s voice cuts through my disoriented fog. “Do you want me to get a blanket from the barn or the house?”
“House,” I say quickly. “The ones in the barn aren’t big enough.”
How long has he been here? I watch him run into the house. I don’t know if he’ll know where to look, but I don’t want to leave Oliver’s side if I don’t have to.
He’s back in a flash, kneeling and unfolding the blanket next to Oliver until it’s only doubled over lengthwise. How does he know what to do?
Doc tells Enzo to hook up the trailer and back it over here while he and I get Oliver onto the blanket.
Again, he takes off. Does he even know how to hook up a trailer? How to back one up? I’ve never asked him to do either of those things, never asked if he knows how . . . but he didn’t hesitate. How did he know Oliver was down and we needed help?
I support Oliver’s neck after we get him into the trailer while the vet positions his legs for safe transport.
“We need hay bales to cushion him and keep him steady,” I say, suddenly clear and confident. The panic is over. It’s go-time, and Oliver needs me fully present.
Time blurs, but Enzo loads a hay bale into trailer, and Doc shoves it between Oliver and the side wall.
Enzo hoists another bale in, and Doc ensures Oliver is snug between them.
Blankets from the barn follow, a whole stack of them.
I roll them tightly and gently wedge them behind and around Oliver anywhere they’ll fit.
Another hay bale appears, and Doc pushes it to Oliver’s chest, spreading a blanket over the top.
He’s as secure as we can make him, but it doesn’t feel like enough.
“I’ll drive,” Doc says.
My truck is running, but Enzo still has the key. He pulls it from his pocket and hands it over.
How did he get the key to begin with? He must’ve run back into the house for it. I don’t remember him doing that.
We’re halfway to Rose Creek when I glance at the side mirror from the passenger seat to check on the trailer.
I know Doc knows what he’s doing, but I feel so goddamn helpless.
Making sure the trailer is still behind us is all I can think to do, and I have to do something.
I see the trailer, riding smoothly behind us. And then I see Enzo’s truck behind it.
Is he following us all the way to Rose Creek? He doesn’t need to do that. There’s nothing more he can for Oliver.
As soon as we arrive at the large animal facility, a vet and several techs converge on Oliver’s trailer.
Again, I feel helpless. I’m a vet tech. I could help, but they don’t need me. The best thing I can do is stay out of the way so they can get to him quickly. It’s the last thing I want to do, but I have to do what’s best for Oliver.
As soon as they have him stabilized and an IV going, I go out to the truck to get my phone. I don’t know why I feel like I need it, other than needing something to do with my hands. I’m going to need to stay out of the way for a while longer.
When I walk outside, I see Enzo’s truck still parked out front. He’s sitting behind the wheel. Waiting for an update?
He rolls down his window as I walk up. “How is he?”
“They’ve started an IV. They’ll have to run some tests. We might not know anything tonight. The ride stressed him out, but his heart rate is coming down. He’s still stressed about being in a strange place, but he’s in good hands.”
“What happened?” His hair is damp at his temples from all the running back and forth from the barn to the trailer, bringing everything we needed as fast as he could.
“He just went down. It can happen for a lot of reasons, none of them good.”
“Can I come in and wait with you?”
“No. I’m going to be in the back being a pain in everyone’s ass as often as they’ll let me.” I attempt a laugh, but it hangs in my throat.
“I can bring you food.”
“It would be wasted. I can’t eat right now. But thank you. And thanks for everything you did back at the house. Why were you there?”
“I couldn’t wait any longer. I needed to see you.
And when I saw the vet’s truck, I figured you’d be out back.
As soon as you lifted your face, I knew something bad had happened, so I ran to the pen, and that’s when I heard him say you needed a blanket to move Oliver .
. . I just wanted to help however I could after that. ”
“You were amazing. You showed up in the worst of circumstances, but your timing was incredible. I didn’t know you could hook up a trailer and back it up, but I’m grateful you could.”
He smiles. “I grew up around animals, just not alpacas. There are still some things we don’t know about each other.”
“Yeah,” I agree. The truth is we hardly know each other at all. “But I know you’re a good person, and I’ll always be thankful you showed up when you did today. Thanks again. For everything. I need to get back inside.”
“Please let me know how he’s doing. I’ll be thinking about him. And you.”
“I will.”
“If you need anything at all, Joni, just let me know how I can help.”
“I appreciate that, but I can’t think of anything I’d need at this point.”
“But if you do, please let me help. Just reach out, and I’ll do whatever you need.”
I duck my head so he can’t see my watering eyes. He doesn’t make it easy to move on, to let our fling fade away with dignity. He wants to revive something that was meant to expire already. And every time I see him it gets harder not to let him.
Without fully raising my head, I mutter a final thanks, and walk away.
Doc greets me in the waiting area with a steaming paper cup of coffee. “I have some news that you might find intriguing. I was planning to tell you tomorrow, but with the current situation, I think I should probably go ahead and tell you now.”
“Just when I thought this day couldn’t get any more interesting.” I scald my tongue with my first sip of coffee. “Hit me.”
“Remember the other two alpacas found with Oliver?”
“Yeah. What about them?”
“The wife of the couple who took them in called the office this afternoon. She and her husband are getting a divorce. They’re dissolving their rescue operation and selling the farm.
They’ve rehomed all the other animals, but she asked if I might know anyone willing to take the alpacas. I didn’t volunteer you or—”
“Yes. The answer is yes. They were his original herd. This is the most perfect solution I could’ve hoped for. I’m in. I’m all in. Call her right now.”
Doc nods. “I think tomorrow morning will be soon enough. Gives you time to sleep on it and be sure, too.”
“I’ve never been more sure about anything.” I pace and try to plan, but my thoughts are firing in scattershot bursts.
Sitting doesn’t help, but when a tech appears from the back and says I can come sit with Oliver again, a slight calm washes over me.
It doesn’t erase my fear and anxiety, but I’m better able to sort my thoughts as I follow the tech.
The moment I see my weak, frightened alpaca, the top priority is crystal clear.
I nuzzle his fuzzy face, and his high-pitched hum lowers instantly. Love is good medicine, and this hard-headed guy is so very loved.
Come on, Oliver. I’ve got companions on the way. Now you do your part and get better so you can be reacquainted with your family. You can’t quit on us. We all need you, buddy.