Page 1 of Moore to Love
1
FINN
The sound of my cell phone ringing ripped me from my sleep while it was still pitch-black outside. Groaning, I rolled over to stretch my arm toward my bedside table. As a veterinarian in a small town, getting calls in the middle of the night happened more often than I liked. I wasn’t officially a twenty-four-seven practice, but my number wasn’t exactly a secret. I’d lived in Mooreville my entire life except when I’d been away for college to get my undergraduate and then veterinary school.
“Hello,” I grunted after accepting the call.
“I need you to get your ass over to my house,” Ryland growled. “That cat you pawned off on Waverly has been puking all night.”
I rolled off my mattress and muttered, “It could just be hair balls.”
“Whatever it is, I need you to fix it. Now.” He heaved a deep sigh. “I have to be in court to give a closing statement first thing in the morning, and I’ve barely gotten an hour’s sleep.”
That explained why he’d called Wiggles “that damn cat” when he had fallen in love with the orange tabby just as much as Waverly had. They’d taken him in as a foster a couple of weeks ago, but when I offered to move him to another volunteer after the puppy she’d been housing was adopted, they couldn’t let the little cutie go and decided to keep him instead.
“I’ll be right over.”
“Hurry.”
I was tempted to take my time after he hung up on me without saying anything else, but the sudden onset of persistent vomiting in a feline could have a more serious cause than the hair balls I mentioned. A couple of possibilities could require surgery if they caused a bowel obstruction, and I’d never do anything to put an animal at risk.
It didn’t take me long to throw on some clothes and drive over to Ryland and Waverly’s house. My cousin must’ve been watching for me because he flung their front door open before I could knock.
“Where’s Wiggles?”
He stepped to the side so I could walk past as he answered, “He’s on the couch with Waverly.”
I strode through their entryway and to the right, heading straight for them. Waverly was curled up in the corner with my patient resting in her lap. Gracie, the gray kitten she’d found abandoned on the street not too long after she’d met Ryland when they were on opposite sides of a court case, was stretched out over her feet.
My cousin had fallen for her hard and fast, something that had been obvious to me when he’d made a similar call to me in the middle of the night when Gracie had an upper respiratory infection early in their relationship. It had been impossible to miss how well he and Waverly fit together, and she had quickly become one of my favorite people. Not only did she love Ryland and treat him well, but her icy exterior hid a soft heart that loved cats almost as much as I did. The world would be a much better place if there were more people like her in it.
“How has Wiggles been acting lately? Is he still playful? Eating and drinking okay?” I asked.
She stroked her fingers through Wiggles’s orange fur. “He seemed fine until his gagging woke me up the first time.”
Looking Wiggles over, I was relieved to see that he didn’t appear to have lost weight. “Any diarrhea? Or just the vomiting?”
“None.” She shook her head. “We did the litter boxes last night and there wasn’t anything unusual.”
“That’s good,” I murmured as I examined the little guy, checking for any signs of an obstruction in his digestive tract. When I didn’t find any, I flashed a quick smile at Waverly. “Really good.”
Ryland perched on the arm of the couch and tilted her head so her cheek rested against his thigh. Then he stroked his fingers through her hair while they both watched as I finished my examination. “Okay, so it turns out that even while half asleep and without seeing my patient, I’m still the best damn vet around.”
Ryland rolled his eyes. “Shit, it’s really just a hair ball?”
“Yup, and you caught it early enough that treatment will only be a minor inconvenience.”
Waverly’s shoulders slumped in relief. “Thank goodness.”
I dug through my bag to pull out some medicine. “This is a laxative that will help Wiggles pass the hairball.”
As I gave them directions for dosage and the easiest method to get the kitten to take it each day—along with additional symptoms to keep an eye out for—Ryland reached out to take the tube from me. “Thanks, man. Is there anything we can do to make sure this doesn’t happen again?”
“Wiggles is a Persian, so he’s more prone to hair balls. That long fur is gorgeous, but it also means that when he grooms, he’s swallowing more hair,” I explained, packing my supplies and equipment back into my bag.
Waverly’s brows drew together. “I thought he was an orange tabby?”
I stroked the white M on Wiggles’s forehead. “Although people talk about orange tabbies as though they’re a breed, it really just refers to their color. Many breeds can have the orange-and-white tabby pattern, and it’s commonly found in Persians.”
