I don’t need him, he’s sick,” the blonde said indifferently as she placed the carrier on the reception desk of the veterinary clinic. Rita had been working as the administrator for two years and had seen many different cases. Mostly, pet owners brought in seriously ill animals, trying to save them until the very end.
Sometimes, the doctors literally pleaded for an injection to be given so the animal would stop suffering. But even in such cases, the owners did not always agree. They were understandable—animals are like children. For many, they were real members of the family.
But that day, Rita was surprised. She tried not to judge the clinic’s clients or label them, yet the indifference—and even contempt—that this girl showed toward her pet was striking. The blonde’s face showed not the slightest hint of compassion. She constantly checked her watch and paid no attention to the now quiet kitten, exhausted from crying.
“How much longer will we have to wait?” she asked.
“Please sign here. And here. Have you been informed about what to do next?” Rita asked.
“No. I want to leave it… with you.”
“With us?” Rita didn’t understand.
“I don’t have time to deal with this! How many times must I repeat myself?”
“Please calm down. I need to confirm something. We don’t handle burials…”
“I don’t need a burial! Just dispose of it or throw it away somewhere!” the blonde snapped nervously. “I have a flight in three hours. I have to go, and you’re holding me up!”
“One moment, please,” Rita said, striving to remain polite, and disappeared into the office.
Veterinarian Oleg was finishing an operation—a complicated case, but Oleg was a godsend doctor. He saved such “tails” that no other specialist would take on.
“Tell the owner we’re finishing up. Fortunately, we’ve saved the poor thing. You can give her some good news. She’s terribly worried, right?” Oleg asked.
“Yes… but I’m with the next… client.”
“What next?”
Rita averted her gaze.
“I see. Is it really that bad? You said I should first examine the animal? Sometimes there are misdiagnoses… try to calm her down.”
“It’s a complicated case,” Rita muttered as she dropped some valerian, and even took a swig herself.
“How much?”
“The owner is in a hurry. She asked… to get rid of the cat as soon as possible.” Rita found it unpleasant to repeat such words, but she needed to explain the situation quickly and clearly to the doctor.
Oleg pulled off his gloves and tossed them onto the table with a heavy heart. Above all, he loved animals. And he despised… cruel people. Yet Oleg hoped that Rita had misunderstood something; that there was a chance for the kitten’s rescue and… for some decency.
“Sveta, please finish here and clean everything up,” he said to his assistant, then addressed Rita, “escort this lady to the examination room.”
“Alright. On my way.”
Oleg expected to see just anyone, but not a girl like her. She was young, beautiful, well-groomed. At first glance, she seemed sweet—as if plucked from a picture. But in conversation, she turned out to be as cold as a marble slab. Although even marble might convey more emotion.
“I understand. You may go,” Oleg said with just a few words, which were enough for him to draw his conclusions.
“Have you resolved the matter?”
“We will.”
“How much will it cost?” the blonde asked as she rummaged through her expensive handbag from a well-known brand.
“For you, it’s free. Since you don’t care how it’s done.”
“Uh-huh. I don’t mind. Well… if you don’t want the money, then fine. It’ll be useful for me too; I already paid a ton for this misunderstanding. Have a good day,” she said, relaxing and leaving the office confidently without even glancing at her pet. Oleg had never seen anything like it before. There were cases when owners weren’t too upset about their decisions, but no person with a heart would behave as that blonde had.
Oleg watched her leave and covered his face with his palms. It seemed… he had done this countless times against his will, yet always as if a piece of his soul was lost.
A few minutes after her departure, Rita entered the office.
She just looked at Oleg, unsure what to say. They had neither a diagnosis nor test results—only the blonde’s words.
“She bought him as a gift for a friend, and he didn’t suit her in color and style…” Oleg broke the silence. A faint squeak was heard from the carrier. “Bring me a syringe, please.”
Rita gulped.
“Oleg… maybe…”
“Just bring it.”
While Rita fetched the instrument, Oleg opened the carrier. In the corner, curled into a ball, a small kitten trembled. Fluffy. Gray. He looked at the veterinarian as if he understood everything.
Oleg gently touched the little bundle with his fingers. The kitten crawled back, pressing itself against the carrier’s grate and softly squeaking.
“Quiet… quiet. Everything’s fine.”
Oleg did not understand why the blonde had decided to get rid of the “defective” cat. Besides mentioning several times that the bite was incorrect, he had heard nothing else coherent. He needed to examine the kitten to make an important decision.
Rita returned. She was calm, a good nurse. But at that moment, her hands trembled and her eyes glistened.
She looked at the kitten in Oleg’s hands and, shaking her head, said, “May I leave?”
“Stay, Rita. I’ll need help.”
“I won’t be able to… forgive me, please. Let Sveta handle it.”
“Alright. Call her.”
Oleg carefully examined the kitten. Paws, ears, eyes, fur, skin… everything was in order. It had a slight asymmetry in its jaw; one tooth was misaligned. But that did not affect the kitten’s ability to lead a normal life.
“What can I do to help?” asked Sveta as she entered the office.
“We need to take some tests. A full examination, immediately. I don’t like that it’s so lethargic. In my opinion, the kitten is dehydrated.”
“When was it fed?”
Oleg didn’t know, so he didn’t answer.
“Did Ivan come?”
“Yes.”
“Tell him to take the next patient. My shift is almost over, but I’ll stay for my own matters.”
“Alright,” Sveta nodded.
Oleg drew water into a syringe and administered it to the kitten. Then he carefully wrapped it in his scarf and pressed it to his chest. The off-duty time turned into a period of inner struggle and waiting for the results of the rapid tests.
The kitten trembled. But upon feeling the warmth, it calmed down and eventually fell asleep in his arms.
“Is it okay?” Rita asked after a while, glancing over.
“Yes.”
“The lab sent the test results…”
Oleg put on his glasses and scanned the results. They surprised him greatly.
The kitten was completely healthy but emaciated. It seemed that it hadn’t been fed for several days.
“Yes… I knew it. Beneath that fluffy coat was a skinny little body—skin and bones. It was younger than its age… And that blonde! What a terrible person! To destroy an innocent soul!” Oleg said to Rita.
“That’s putting it mildly,” Rita sniffled, looking at the bundle of fur wrapped in the scarf. “Why would she do that to him? And you, Oleg… forgive me, but I thought you were kind! And you…”
Oleg looked up and smiled sadly.
“I didn’t euthanize him. He’s alive. But what to do with him, I don’t know. He needs treatment and… to be placed somewhere. I already have four cats at home. And you, if I recall correctly… have six.”
“Really? Alive? Just asleep?!” Rita wiped her tears and smiled. She was ready to kiss the wonderful doctor—the best veterinarian she knew.
“Yes. Just asleep,” Oleg sighed and covered the kitten with his large palm.
“We’ll cure him! He’ll live!” Rita declared, wiping her tears as she went off to meet new patients.
Two months later.
“Good morning!”
“Good morning, Rita,” Oleg greeted as he entered the clinic in a good mood. “And where’s our Zeus?”
“He snuck into the operating room and is now nursing a stray after anesthesia,” the nurse admitted guiltily, averting her eyes.
“Miracles…”
“I didn’t kick him out. Yesterday he called you, honestly… He’s an incredible cat!” Rita said, gesturing animatedly. The whole clinic already knew about this amazing case. The cat that was saved had, in turn, saved another cat! An operation performed by a young intern had ended disastrously. And Oleg had just come on duty and was preparing for work when Zeus burst into his office with his cries. The gray cat, who had transformed from an emaciated kitten into a well-groomed cat, became the true symbol of the clinic.
“Hi, my good one. Well? What do you want to tell me?” Oleg marveled as the usually calm and gentle cat began jumping on him, literally grabbing his coat and leading him out of the office.
“What now?” Oleg asked.
“I don’t know,” Sveta shrugged, “the operation is over. Everything seems calm. He’ll recover soon.”
Oleg went to check and gasped.
“Recover! To the other world! Quick, Sveta! Rita!” Oleg called out, looking at the cat that had been improperly operated on. Meanwhile, Zeus sat nearby, waiting. He had fulfilled his mission.
Fortunately, everything ended well. His “comrade” was saved.
And so it happened that Zeus became the unofficial “doctor and guardian” of the clinic—warming animals coming out of anesthesia, “soothing” them in ways only he understood, and keeping watch over seriously ill patients.
Zeus served the clinic for a long ten years. Everyone cared for him. The happy cat was pampered with attention and well-fed. He had his own “office” and a cozy bed next to Oleg’s desk.
In the 24-hour clinic, there were always people around, so Zeus never felt lonely or abandoned, even when Oleg was at home. Both the doctors and the patients adored him. “Whose beautiful little cat is that?” they would ask.
“He’s ours. A shared one. The spirit of our clinic, our guardian,” Oleg would smile, remembering how he had rescued that “reject” that they had intended to dispose of.”