The Human Pet: A Sci-Fi Romance

Part 41

Tarak

The moment I enter the pet hospital, an emergency vet takes her from me. Rigel stays with me in the lobby. Every moment that I do not see her agitates me. How do I know she is not scared? Or not being cared for properly? I clench my fists; I need my Kayla and my Kayla needs me.

A veterinarian calls my name and I follow him into a small hospital room. I rush to Kayla's bedside. She is sleeping and looks small and pale in the hospital bed. Seeing her like this scares me. My eyes skitter over her throat and when I find that her throat bandages are gone, my hands hover near her.

"She was due for an appointment to assess her healing from her most recent operation. You will be pleased to know she is recovering well from that surgery, so we removed the bandages." says the vet and then he speaks to my next fear. "Her vocal cords are strained from the experience, but again, since she has nearly healed, we anticipate no long-term damage. However, it will take a few days for her voice to sound normal."

I swish my tail in satisfaction, and I stroke Kayla's cheek. I yearn for her to wake up and speak to me with her voice.

Rigel rushes into the hospital room. This bird often irritates me, but right now, I am relieved that he is here, although I will never tell him that.

The vet pulls back the sheet covering Kayla's legs. So many butterfly bandages and I cannot help myself; I bellow. Rigel's hand is on my shoulder.

"It's not as bad as it looks," continues the vet. "Most of the wounds on her leg were superficial, except for one on her foot that required a few stitches. The most challenging aspect is that scourge fangs can inject proteins that cause pain, which we have been using antibodies to remove," he says, tapping a long tube attached to her arm. "So, for her medical care..."

The vet explains what sounds like a very simple protocol, although my attention wanes because I am already modifying this protocol in my mind; first, I will need to check and recheck the wounds in her legs, next, I will need to offer her berries every hour and most important of all, I will cuddle with her, constantly.

"We do have a specific medical concern for your pet," says the vet, which draws my attention back to him. "We run models predictive of outcomes and based on her reported experiences. we believe she is at risk of prolonged trauma after the event."

"What should I do?" I say, clenching my fists.

"Give her lots of supportive care to mitigate any of these risks. If you have any routines, do that, and that might make her feel safe. I also suggest a follow-up later with your behaviorist."

This veterinarian is wise, recommending that I do routines to make her feel safe. So, my modified care plan should work well, except... Will my boss cooperate with all the time off I might need? Probably not, which means that I will need the help of others.

I look at Rigel. "My pet will need care, probably every hour of the day, so..."

"You've been given time off to tend to her," says Rigel.

"But my boss said–"

"Don't worry about that now," says Rigel.

Both Rigel and the veterinarian are right. Kayla is the most important. As soon as the vet removes her infusion tube, I pull her into my arms and take her home.

***

I initiate her special protocol, starting with a bath the moment I get her home. She's still unresponsive, but it soothes me to hold her in my arms with her head on my chest as we float in warm water.