“No, I’m helping you stay connected to a giant part of you that you’re trying to shove away in a box. You need this, Gabe. Trust me. Remember, it’s me. I know things. This triage event has you written all over it.”

He sighed. Yun was right. Ever since he’d needed to retire Samson from their search-and-rescue volunteer work over a year ago due to Samson’s arthritis, weekends had been more something to get through than to enjoy. For the last six months, he’d not been honoring the part of him that missed some of what he’d left behind when he’d walked away from two years as a firefighter and EMT to enter vet school. “Tell them I’m a yes and text me the address. I take it there are supplies on-site?”

“Ahh…I think so, but I’ll text you that answer.”

Gabe hung up as Patrick led Tater Tot into the hall, cajoling her forward with treats a foot or two out of reach. The easygoing dog was using her leg hesitantly but without any sign of flinching or sharp limp to indicate she was in pain.

After watching long enough to feel good about her prognosis, Gabe gave her a pat on the shoulder as Patrick rewarded her with a few more treats.

“She’s the last one for me today, right?”

Patrick nodded. “Affirmative.”

“Affirmative,” Gabe repeated under his breath after telling Patrick to have a good rest of the weekend.

He headed through the double doors that separated the dog kennels and the treatment room from the cat area, gift shop, and adoption center. Samson was sprawled on the floor in a quiet spot in front of the cat kennels. Gabe blinked in surprise to spy Trina, the shelter’s resident cat, down on the floor tenaciously grooming Samson along his cheek and behind his ear. Samson was soaking it in, his eyes blinking open and closed in a partial doze.

Even in the bustling room, Samson’s ears pricked to attention when Gabe clicked for him. Always at the ready, Samson rolled from his side to his feet and hoisted up with a touch of effort that was typical of a ten-year-old retriever. Looking put off at having her charge disappear midlick, Trina hopped to the adoption counter with the ease of a cat that had four legs instead of three and began to give herself a bath instead.

“Sorry, Treenz,” Gabe said, stepping over to give her a scratch as he scanned the room to see if one of the senior staff was available. The place was bustling. Fidel caught his eye and nodded from the other side of the adoption counter. With no need to hang around, Gabe offered him a thumbs-up.

Fidel was with a customer but paused to give him a quick nod. “¿Has terminado?” he called, honoring Gabe’s request to only speak Spanish with him.