“Great news,” the vet said with a smile as she carefully set NotCat back down on the exam table, “I was right! No major injuries.”

“Tough old dog,” I said proudly, reaching out to pat him on the head.

“Yes, well, as tough a doggy as he is, I’m afraid there’s still some pain from his injury.”

My expression immediately changed. I felt my heart drop a bit. Even if the vet wasn’t worried I still felt awful. The old dog was going to be in pain and I couldn’t help but think it was my fault.

“Will it be manageable?”

The vet smiled reassuringly at me, “Of course. I wouldn’t send this precious doggy home to be in pain the whole recovery time!”

“Oh, right. I’m sorry,” I mumbled.

“No need! You’re just concerned. Believe me, I understand,” the vet smiled before placing a bottle of pills on the exam table, “He’ll need to take this EVERY eight hours for the first few days to control the pain.”

“And that should be enough?”

“I had them put in some extra, just in case. The easiest way is to put the pill in a treat or a small piece of food.”

“Right,” I reached out for the bottle of painkillers.

“Any other questions?”

“No, you’ve been very helpful. Thank you so much.” I smiled.

“Yes, thank you,” Cassie said as she stood up.

The vet made her way towards the door, “He’s one incredibly lucky dog. At his age, well, quite frankly, I’m amazed he survived being hit by a car without even a broken leg. He is a tough old doggy, after all.”

“He’s indestructible,” I laughed, bending down to press my face against NotCat’s head.

“Guess so,” the vet smiled, “Still, I would recommend keeping him on a leash from now on. It’s safer for him. Once again, if you have any questions or concerns don’t hesitate to call me!”

 

Cassie waved goodbye to the vet and then turned to ready herself to finally leave. She was a bit immersed in fixing her coat and making sure she had all her things so she didn’t notice me struggling to pick up the very drugged up NotCat. I still manage to hold the bottle of painkillers in my hand somehow. She turned and frowned at the comically large cast covering NotCat’s hind leg. She quietly took the bottle of painkillers from my hand and slipped them into the pocket of my coat when she realized I was struggling to keep him comfortable.

“It’s a good thing he’ll be okay,” she said softly.

“I just hope Cal will see it the same way,” I told her with a worried look.

“I’m sure he will.”

“Thanks,” I said, not just for her reassurance, but also for her help.

I held her gaze for a moment with a genuine smile before snapping out of it and heading out toward the reception desk. The receptionist, another very pretty young woman, smiled up at me. I gestured down toward NotCat.

“We’re all done here except for the bill.”

“Very well. Let’s see, what was the dog’s name?”

“NotCat.”

“Not cat?”

“Yes,” I told her, waiting for her to make some funny comment about his name.

She looked at me, obviously puzzled, but just cleared her throat and turned her attention back to her computer. She typed in some information, clicked around, and then looked back up at me.

“There are still a couple items in processing. Would you mind taking a seat? I will call you up the second everything is ready to be checked out and paid for.”

“Not a problem,” I smiled before moving to sit in the nearest chair.

I sat down with a sigh and carefully arranged NotCat on my lap. It was getting tiring carrying the dog around. Still, I placed my hand on the top of his head hoping it would comfort him. I leaned my head back against the wall and started thinking about what in the world I was going to tell Cal.

“You don’t seem worried.” Cassie said abruptly, “about the bill, I mean,”.

I turned to look at her with scrunched brows, “Why should I be?”

She shrugged, “Aren’t vets expensive?”

“I guess so. Well, yeah, based off what Cal has told me. But this is NotCat. This is his buddy.”

“Oh, I’m not saying it’s not worth it! It’s just,” she paused for a moment before continuing. “Are you sure your dad won’t mind you paying for your friend’s vet bill?”

I let out a sound somewhere between an exasperated sigh and defeated chuckle, “You think I’m using my dad’s money to pay for this?”

“Oh, I’m sure it’s your own account, but-”

“Finally, you got something right,” I interrupted, “It is my own account. What you’re wrong about, though, is thinking the money in it came from mommy and daddy.”

Cassie looked at me. I couldn’t quite place the expression in her eyes. Did my tone of voice shut her down? Or did she doubt me? There was no way to know. It didn’t matter anyway, at least not right then.

“Not that it’s any of your business,” I said somewhat coldly, “Contrary to what you think, I don’t have rich parents.”

“Oh,” she said, looking away.

I wanted to know what she was thinking. I wanted to know if she felt embarrassed about her blatantly rude assumptions. I was curious how her mind worked. She was so uptight and sure of everything all the time that it would be interesting to find out how she would feel to be so glaringly wrong about something. NotCat gave a little whimper and shifted on my lap. I immediately reached out to hold the dog more tightly, making sure he wouldn’t take a tumble. That would be the last thing he needed.

“What did you say earlier about generalizations?”

Cassie turned to look at me and shook her head, but the small smile tugging at the corners of her lips betrayed her. I had gotten her with that one.

“Everything’s ready if you are,” the receptionist said as she leaned over the counter.

I pulled the dog back into my arms with a bit of a struggle and stood up. I walked up to the receptionist and noticed that Cassie didn’t follow me. I looked down and saw a small stack of paperwork with a pamphlet on top; it was for the financing options the vet offered. I gave a small scoff and shook my head. Yet another poor judgment made on me. Maybe my age and casual look with a regular t-shirt threw everyone off in this uppity town. Just because I didn’t like to be flashy about my wealth didn’t mean anything. But I wouldn’t stoop down to that level, at least not entirely. I wasn’t that guy.

I set NotCat’s rear on the counter so I could fish my wallet out from the back pocket of my jeans. I pulled out my card and slid it over the counter.

“You take cards, right?”

The receptionist flushed a deep red and mumbled something all garbled up before promptly shutting up. She nodded and processed the payment, her embarrassment was palpable.

But the only thing I was wondering was what Cassie was thinking.