a

aned up and turned into the practice that it was today, I had managed to convince myself that this would be a chance for me to set my own hours a

rough the next few weeks, and that all our clients were receiving the best care that they possibly could as long as they were with us. It was

d I could say with certainty that I didn't give a damn about any of that. I loved my job. I had loved my job before I'd ever started it, when I had taken my introductory course at college and met other

hat there were other people out there just like me. We stayed in touch when we had graduated, as we both took on tech jobs under mor

we came to open a

o take care of our first flurry of clients. We had built up a steady stream of people who trusted us and came back to us, no matter what, and they would never know just how fuc

far behin

ad managed to get caught in an electric fan and break its wing in the process. I

all out of him in one go without too much suffering. I scratched his head as he hopped off the table, and I couldn't help but smile when I saw his ow

cy intakes of the day-the pets who had managed to get themselves into trouble one way or another

ed. In some ways, I hoped it never would. I felt like so much of my ability to actually do this job came from want

nd prepared for the next day as best I could. By the time I stepped onto the tr

nd cook, but I didn't want to have to move for a little while. Sometimes, I was so tired that I wondered why I did this in the fir

the good they did in the w

y all, and I was going to keep doing that as long as I still

ould come home from work every day, confide

eople got