Page 62 of Knot So Sweet
Her posture goes rigid. "I'm sorry, what about the cat?"
My stomach drops, and I stop pacing. I know exactly which cat they're referring to. Mrs. Henderson's beloved Mittens, who lost a leg in an accident as a kitten but has lived a perfectly happy life for eight years.
"Sir," Mary knuckles whiten around the phone then she puts it on loud speaker, "are you asking to purchase someone else's pet?"
I can hear the caller's response about relocating to a better environment and offering five thousand dollars. My protective instincts flare, and I stride over to the desk.
"Let me," I say quietly, extending my hand.
Mary practically throws the phone at me, relief flooding her features.
"This is Dr. Mairi." I pace behind the counter, trying to keep my voice steady. "The animal you're referring to is a beloved family pet who receives excellent care from her current owner. She is not available for purchase, try the local shelter. Have a good day."
I slam the phone down harder than necessary, my hands clenching into fists.
"People," I shake my head and move toward the window, needing space. "Animals are so much easier to understand than humans."
"That was the worst one yet," Mary says, adding another tally mark with sharp, angry strokes. "Though yesterday's call asking if we could 'authentically age' their puppy to look more 'mountain rustic' was pretty special."
I whip around to stare at her. "Please tell me you're making that up."
"I wish." Mary stands and starts tidying the already organized desk, nervous energy in her movements. "They wanted some kind of weathering treatment to make their six-month-old Pomeranian look like it had lived a hard mountain life."
The absurdity hits me all at once, and I start laughing. Really laughing, the kind that makes my whole body shake and forces me to grab the counter for support.
"Stop," I gasp, wiping my eyes. "You're going to make me lose it completely, and I still have three appointments this afternoon."
"It gets worse," Mary grins, perching on the edge of her desk. "Mrs. Peterson called asking if tourists have been bothering Duchess because she's 'Internet famous' now."
I lean against the wall, crossing my arms. "Are they?"
"Someone knocked on her door yesterday asking to pet 'the famous Persian cat from the article' and take selfies."
The phone rings again. We both freeze and stare at it like it might explode.
"Your turn," Mary says, pointing at me while backing away from the desk.
"No way. You're the one with natural talent for handling crazy."
Mary sighs dramatically but answers on the fourth ring. "Mairi Veterinary Services, this is Mary."
I’m already anticipating where this is going based on the pattern we've established.
"Sir, what exactly do you mean by authentic mountain vet experience?" Mary asks, her free hand gesturing incredulously at nothing.
I cover my mouth to muffle silent laughter as she continues, watching her sit behind the desk.
"Sir, this is a fully licensed veterinary clinic with modern equipment because that's what's safe and effective for animal care. We don't have a barn, and we don't use outdated tools that might harm your pet."
Mary plants her hand firmly on her hip, scowling at the phone.
"I'm absolutely sure. Would you like to schedule a normal veterinary appointment, or should I save both of us some time?"
She schedules a normal appointment and hangs up, then immediately grabs her pen and starts writing furiously.
"What are you working on?" I ask, pushing off from the wall and settling into the chair across from her desk.
"A FAQ sheet for tourist calls." Mary looks up from her writing, eyes sparkling with mischief. "I'm calling it 'Things This Veterinary Clinic Will Not Do For You.'"
