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She stepped into the waiting room. Her white frock wrinkled and stained with blood. Her hair, so carefully tied into a bun before her shift, had fallen apart. She pushed it off her face and stepped up to the old man sitting near the window.
“Mr Jenkins?”
The old man looked up, puffy red eyes relaying his pain as he anxiously awaited news he knew would not be good.
Quietly without emotion, “Yes, I’m Jenkins.”
The woman in the white frock looked down at him briefly and then shifted her eyes to the clipboard in her hand. She hated this part of her job.
“Well Mr Jenkins, I am sorry, but we could not save her leg.”
The old man stared at her not saying a word. He squinted and turned his head away.
“Can I see her?”
“Why yes of course. She is in recovery. She is still a little woozy, but I am sure she would love to see you. Please follow me.”
The old man slowly struggled to his feet and followed the young woman past double doors and through some curtains to the gurney his loved one laid on.
A whimper greeted him as he stroked her neck. Brown eyes looked at him with unconditional love. The sheet covering her danced up and down as she wagged her tail.
“Who’s the good girl?” Old man Jenkins bent over and kissed her forehead.
Some editing on this version.
2 comments:
A wonderful story. Brought tears to my eyes. Reminded me of many dogs in my past that loved me unconditionally.
Mike, that was a great write. You poured pure emotion into that one. Very well done.
(I'm still on catch-up)
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