Buster was dying. The lady on the phone was not helping. Aggie cried frustrated sobs in the background as the dog heaved and gasped for breath. Samantha fought back her own tears, felt herself choking on the words, “Help me.” She didn’t dare glance backward. “Please. You have to help me save him.” Only now did she peek across her shoulder at the loves of her life.
“I’m sorry. I can only advise you to take him to the nearest emergency vet.”
“He won’t make it and you know it!” Shaky fingers angrily brushed back wayward strands of blond hair that blurred her vision. Not that she needed her eyes to see the image of her daughter kneeling over Buster. His chest rising in labored movements as he struggled to breathe. It would be a memory that would haunt her if she couldn’t get this woman to bend just a little. “Look,” she again turned away from the horrid scene and focused on the wall clock. “I don’t care about protocol. Just tell me what to do.”
“Ma’am,” there was a break in her voice, ever so slight, “I can’t.”
“For the love of God we are running out of time! I’d practically give my life for his. Please!” Samantha physically turned, preparing for the inevitable. “Addie. Addie, come here.” Addie shook her head and continued to stroke the white fur of the animal they both loved so much. “My eight year old daughter won’t leave his side. He has been her companion since she could crawl. Now tell me again that you can only advise me to take him to the nearest vet then suggest how I tell her you let him die.” Silence greeted her. “Please,” she begged trying to plead her case once more, “hypothetically if I were to save his life, how would I go about it?”
Finally the woman gave. “Hypothetically you will need a knife and some towels.”