Dr. Stevens carefully helped Rex onto the exam table, working with quiet efficiency while Susan kept a hand on the dog’s side. Mike stood right behind her, his hand on her shoulder. The minutes felt like hours. Finally, the vet looked up, his expression sympathetic.
The only sound in the room was the hum of the fluorescent lights. “It’s congestive heart failure, Susan,” Dr. Stevens said softly. “The excitement and the heat today likely pushed him over the edge.”
He explained that medication could stabilize him and keep him comfortable, but they were looking at months, not years. Susan felt the room spin. The reality of the diagnosis hit her like a physical weight. She gripped Mike’s hand. “Is he in pain?” she whispered.
Dr. Stevens shook his head. “Not right now. But him stopping you today… that was his way of telling you he couldn’t go any further.”
Tears finally spilled over as Susan leaned down, pressing her face into Rex’s neck. He smelled like home.
His tail gave a weak, single thump against the metal table. “I’m so sorry, buddy,” she choked out.
Mike cleared his throat, his presence a steadying force. “What’s the next step, Doctor?” he asked. “How do we make sure he’s safe and comfortable?”
As Dr. Stevens began to outline a treatment plan, Susan’s mind was a whirlwind. The guests, the reception, the flowers—it all felt like it belonged to a different life.
She turned to Mike, her voice surprisingly clear. “I need to stay here with him tonight,” she said.
Mike didn’t blink. “Then we stay together,” he said, squeezing her hand.
Before she could respond, the clinic’s front door opened. Her father’s voice filled the small waiting area as he walked in, followed by her mother, the minister, and Natalie, her maid of honor…
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