When you are at the vets on a Sunday

You’re probably not there for the well puppy/kitten check-up

Or the de-worming, flea treatment, nail clipping,

Or to pick up the special prescription cans of food for your furry companion

 

On a Sunday the people at the vets are there

Sent from another place, “they said to come right away so we did”

Or they come realizing the wound is an oozing abscess now

Or carrying a towel wrapping a little one run over, pelvis broken like a tea-cup

 

I sit there with my hand in the red carrier, patting my own furry sufferer

Comforted by the clean benches, computers clicking, calm voices

But overhearing the teary phone call home

And the plea, “he seems so comfortable now, can we just think about it awhile longer?”