“All right, guys. Time for momma to head out. I’ve got to get donuts for the gang, so I’ll see you later,” she said with affection to the three cats. All three raised their heads, large eyes staring at her, but with the sunspot-coma coming on none of them moved.
This is my life. Talking to my cats. She wondered if she would eventually be found mummified in this old apartment, littered with cat food cans outside of the door. Shaking her head as she washed her cereal bowl and left it in the sink, she pushed back the morbid thoughts. I’m young. I’m a professional. I own my own veterinary practice. I’m successful. Unfortunately, those thoughts were crowded with others, less positive. I’m single with no social life in the foreseeable future. No fiancé to plan a future with. No boyfriend to hang out with on weekends. No friend-with-benefits, therefore giving my battery boyfriend all my business. Hell, no one-night stands. I live in a tiny-ass apartment because it’s all I can afford while I pay off vet school loans. I work from sun-up to beyond sun-down. And…I talk to cats. Yep, I’m a real winner.
Looking at the clock one more time, Annie realized she needed to hustle to get the donuts before opening the clinic. Grabbing her keys and purse, she locked the door behind her and jogged down the stairs.
“Annie!” came the familiar call as she walked briskly down the street toward the bakery.
Looking across the street, she smiled and waved. “Mr. Machelli – good morning.”
“Your turn to get the goodies?” he called as he continued to sweep the sidewalk in front of his butcher shop. “Give Mrs. Greenwald my greetings.”
She smiled in return. Mrs. Greenwald owned the bakery down the street and had been a widow for over two years. It was a well-known fact in the neighborhood that Mr. Machelli was interested, but he always said he didn’t want to move too quickly in a courtship. She thought that secretly he was just afraid that Mrs. Greenwald would turn him down if he asked her out. Knowing her, he might just be right in playing it safe. She could be a fire-cracker and no one knew what would come out of her mouth.
Waving her response, she continued into the bakery. Hit with the smells of homemade breads and pastries, her stomach rumbled as she pushed her way through the crowd up to the counter. Mrs. Greenwald came from the back waving a bag of pastries in her hand. “You’re late. You’re never late. Why are you late?” she huffed while shoving the bag into Annie’s hand. “Here. Take this too. You’re too skinny,” she added while handing Annie an enormous loaf of bread.
Knowing that no answer was expected, she took the offerings, smiling her thanks. “By the way, Mrs. Greenwald. Mr. Machelli sends his usual morning greetings,” she said with a wink.
“Bah! That man moves too slow for me. One day, I will find a man who loves my food and won’t waste time asking me out!”
Laughing, Annie quickly paid the young man at the counter, then jogged back down the block to her clinic. As she approached, her eyes caught the sign hanging above the door.
Cranston and Donavan Veterinary Clinic
Her mind drifted back to Dr. Cranston and her interview when he had been looking for a young vet to mentor. He asked her the normal questions about her experience and background, then he sat behind his old wooden desk piled high with records and peered at her silently. His silence began to make her nervous, but she held his gaze. Finally, he asked her one more question.
“What would you be if you couldn’t be a veterinarian?”
She didn’t hesitate, answering him in a clear voice. “Nothing.”
At his raised eyebrows, she continued, “Dr. Cranston, being a veterinarian is all I’ve ever wanted to be. It’s not what I do. It’s who I am. If it were taken from me, it would take my reason for getting up each morning. I’ve never considered another job, another career. It’s everything to me.”
A slow smile crept across his face as he stood and leaned over his desk with his hand held out. “Good answer, Dr. Donavan. Welcome to my practice.”
Annie’s mind drifted over to him and the two years he mentored her as a young vet. One day, she had come to work and a new sign was being hung over the door. Instead of just Cranston’s Veterinary Clinic, her name was now proudly displayed. She didn’t realize it at the time, but he knew. The cancer was eating away at him and in the end he gave his most-valuable possession to the woman that he often said he considered his daughter. When he died six months later, she was stunned to find that he left the entire practice, including the apartment above the clinic, to her.
The sign still had his name on it, swinging proudly above the door. She simply could not stand the idea of having a new sign with just her name. Somehow it seemed disloyal.