The Pieces We Keep(35)

“Wait,” she said, barely audible. In her mind she felt her toes dangling over the ridge of a cliff, the drop too far to see. She longed for his profession of love, once more, before taking this final step.

But then he raised his head, and the look in his eyes made any pledge irrelevant. No matter the words he crafted, she would follow him regardless.

Fearful though ready, she rose to meet his body and leapt blindly into the void.





15


Nothing fully prepares you for the ramifications of your first time.

From the start, Audra knew that euthanasia was not only a basic part of the job but a merciful one. The terminal surgeries at veterinary school were supposed to have armed her with the required emotional armor.

They hadn’t.

The first animal she put down was an old black Lab, deaf and half blind, suffering from liver cancer. It would have been cruel to keep him alive. The family, too, understood this. And yet, after it was over, Audra spent an hour in her office sobbing. Although that inaugural act was the worst of them, to this day an ache would hollow her as she pressed a stethoscope to an animal’s chest and confirmed she’d silenced its heart.

She could feel the coming of that ache now as she knocked on the front door.

“We are ready for you,” the mother said, “in the backyard.” Her soft Hispanic accent held a sullen tone. She escorted Audra through her house and out the kitchen door, back into the afternoon light. Two matching Shih Tzus whimpered from an open window, already in mourning.

Audra’s technician, a young sprite of a gal named Jill, was setting up beside the garden. Lush grass led to a serene pond. Here their medical scrubs seemed almost an offense.

The daughter of the family sat on a striped, tasseled blanket. No older than ten, she wore a thin glittery headband over her sable bob. In her arms she cradled a fluffy white rabbit with huge pink eyes. Her parents, clients since the clinic’s founding, had made all of the arrangements earlier that week.

“Hi, Isabella, I’m Dr. Hughes.” Audra cleared her throat, gravelly from another sleepless night. Jack’s dreams had ratcheted up another notch since the festival’s excitement the day before.

Isabella looked up with tear-filled eyes.

Audra knelt on the blanket. Her compiled exhaustion would make it harder to control her emotions. “I heard this spot was Snowball’s favorite, right here by the carrots.”

The girl petted the rabbit’s back and eked out a nod.

“I know she lived a very long life, and I’m sure she was really special to you. So don’t you worry. I’m going to do everything I can to make this as peaceful as possible for her. Now, I’m just going to take her for a few minutes, then give her right back, okay?”

At Isabella’s reluctance, her father stepped closer. “Do what the doctor says, mija,” he said gently. She stroked the rabbit’s head, her lower lip quivering, before she obeyed.

Jill assisted Audra in clipping fur from the rabbit’s front leg to place and secure the catheter. Meanwhile, the mother reprimanded her two young sons for bickering over a lightsaber.

Audra attempted to hand the rabbit back, just as promised, but Isabella burst into tears and ran into the house.

“She’ll be fine,” the father told his wife, and gave a signal for Audra and Jill to continue.

It took Audra a moment to recall her standard script. “First,” she said, “I’m going to give Snowball an injection that will literally make her fall asleep. Then, in thirty seconds to a minute, her heartbeat will stop and so will her breathing. Do you have any questions before I start?”

They shook their heads.

After a steadying breath, Audra proceeded as outlined. The rabbit shivered beneath her hand while absorbing enough anesthetic to achieve an overdose. When the time came, Audra held her stethoscope to the animal’s chest. It was over. The rabbit’s eyes remained open, as they always did, staring back like an accusation.

Usually at this point, owners would share fond stories of their pet. With Isabella hidden away, it wasn’t a surprise that the family bypassed a session of nostalgia.

Jill helped Audra pack up the equipment and they headed for their cars. The mother waved to them in gratitude before closing the front door.

“See you at work,” Jill said, her tone subdued, before pulling away. If not for an errand Jill needed to run, they would have driven together. Carpooling was efficient and economical, but also safer when one of them was too emotional to drive.

Alone in her car, Audra relaxed into her seat. The normal rush of sadness didn’t arrive, and she was relieved for it. She had just started the ignition when a face in her periphery caused her to jump.