Sunday had acted oddly the day before, and Lauren suspected it might be a mild cold, the kind of thing that blew over in twenty-four hours. Cats tended to get more affectionate when they didn’t feel well, wanting comfort and snuggles just like people did.
Lauren knelt beside the sofa and pet Sunday’s head. The little cat picked up her chin and started purring, so she was probably okay, but just in case, Lauren picked her up and carried her to the back room so that, if she was sick, it wouldn’t spread to the other cats. She didn’t want to bother whichever vet was on duty today in case it turned out to be nothing.
Although she did wonder if it would be Caleb. He still hadn’t come by for his cup of coffee in the few days since she’d invited him, which she probably should have taken as a sign that he was just not that into her… Even though she didn’t want him to be into her… Well, okay, she did… But, well, love was still off the table. And it seemed ill-advised to pursue a quick roll in the hay with a guy she’d likely have to work with in the future.
Sunday curled up in the cat bed. Lauren put a bowl of water and a bowl of kibble down for her. “I’ll be back to check on you soon, okay?”
Sunday gave a disinterested snort, stood up, turned around, and lay back down.
Lauren got pulled into helping with the rush hour crush, mostly putting pastries in paper bags while her employees made lattes and rang people up. When things finally calmed down a couple of hours later, she checked on Sunday, who had wandered into the curtained-off back area where litter boxes and extra food were stashed. She hadn’t touched the food but was presently squatting over a magazine that had fallen on the floor. But nothing came out. Classic sign of a UTI.
“Lauren, can you come out here?” called Monique. “I need help with something.”
“Hang in there, Sunday. We’ll go see the vet soon and get you some antibiotics to clear that right up.”
There was finally a lull in the late afternoon, by which time Sunday seemed a bit droopy. She hadn’t eaten anything, probably because she was in pain from the UTI. Lauren grabbed a carrier and loaded Sunday into it, then took her next door.
Caleb stood at the reception desk when Lauren walked in. He seemed to be chatting with Rachel, and no one else was in the waiting room. He was still as handsome as ever, his light brown hair a little disheveled today, his white lab coat fitting neatly over his shoulders.
“Hi,” Caleb said, standing straight suddenly. He smiled.
“Hi. I’ve got a sick cat,” said Lauren.
Rachel wheeled over to a filing cabinet and said, “Which one?”
“Sunday.”
Rachel pulled out a file and handed it to Caleb. He said, “All right. Come on back.”
Lauren followed Caleb into an exam room. He flipped through the file as Lauren took Sunday out of the carrier. Sunday was definitely sick, because she didn’t put up a fight or try to dig her claws into the floor of the carrier, as was otherwise routine. Rather than put her on the cold metal table, Lauren cradled Sunday in her arms and pet her head.
“What are the symptoms?” asked Caleb.
“I think it’s a UTI. She’s been doing that thing where she randomly squats like she’s going to pee, but nothing comes out.”
Caleb looked up and met her gaze, and Lauren wondered how it was that she was talking about cat pee with a very handsome man. What wrong turn had she taken to end up here?
“Anything else?” he asked. “Is she eating? Drinking water?”
“No. I put water and food out for her in the back room at the café this morning, and both have been basically untouched all day.”
Caleb put the file down. “Can I examine her?”
“Oh. Of course.”
Slowly, Lauren put Sunday down on the table. Sunday let out a little mewl of protest when her paws hit the cold metal. Caleb pet her head as he looked her over. “Hi, little girl,” he cooed. Sunday was putty. She started purring and leaning into his hand.
“I’d like to run some tests,” he said.
“Is that really necessary? It’s pretty clearly a UTI. Can’t you just prescribe antibiotics?”
“She’s also not eating or drinking water, so there may be another underlying problem.”
“Or she’s in pain from the infection. I don’t want to traumatize her by putting her through a bunch of unnecessary tests.”
Caleb gazed at Lauren over the top of his glasses. That was clearly a “Which one of us is the veterinarian again?” look. “Nothing invasive, just a urinalysis to confirm the UTI and a few blood tests to make sure nothing else is up.” He leaned down toward the table and started examining Sunday more closely.
“I don’t want to tell you how to do your job—”
“Then don’t.” Caleb glanced up at Lauren, then went back to examining Sunday.
“But I’ve worked with probably a hundred cats in my time at the Cat Café. This is a garden-variety UTI.”
“You’re probably right, but just to be safe, indulge me.”
Did Caleb not get how this was supposed to work? If Olivia had been working, she would have written the scrip without all this drama. Urinary tract issues were common in cats, and Lauren had seen a dozen of them. She knew what this was.
“I know you’re new here, but I don’t think I can justify the expense of unnecessary tests.”
“They aren’t unnecessary. I’m trying
