HeartLESS (Fransykes)

2. That this is really happening

CW: Sick animals, animal abuse, animal euthanasia, other animal death, mentions of alcoholism, anxiety/panic attacks and grounding techniques.

Oli's POV:

Jordan greets me as I walk in the door of the animal shelter the next morning. He hands me a fresh coffee which I gratefully accept while he busies himself around his desk, tapping away on his computer and frowning at the screen. I loosen Luna's harness and point to the dog bed in the corner of the room and she obediently goes and flops straight into it, shoving her nose into the fibres and snuffling around before pulling out a spiky rubber bone. I watch her with a smirk as I sip my coffee, leaning against the reception counter.

"How are Margie and the boys?" I ask Jordan and he pauses, avoiding my gaze. My eyes immediately start stinging and I know what he's going to say.

"I'm sorry, Oli," Jordan finally manages to meet my gaze. "We did all we could, but Jack just wasn't strong enough."

There's barely any coffee left in my mug - hey, I had a feeling I'd need it, but I bring the ceramic back to my lips to try to focus on what could have possibly gone wrong. I breathe slowly into the mug, feeling the heat still radiating from it, smelling the scent that lingers, tasting it on my tongue, listening to my breathing echoing against the inside of it, and finally opening my eyes to look at the last trickle of the liquid swirling in the bottom. Therapy did teach me that useful thing - focussing on all five senses individually to try to ground myself when I began to get anxious.

A few weeks ago, we had a female French Bulldog brought in with her litter. They'd been raised by a backyard breeder and Margot - or Margie as I'd nicknamed her - was in a pretty bad way, unable to feed her pups any longer. They were only four weeks old at the time and much smaller than Frenchie pups should have been. Within days of Margie being brought in, two of her four pups had sadly died, but the last two - Max and Jack - they were fighters. Well, we thought they were.

"And Max?" I finally croak out.

"He seems fine for now," Jordan leans back in his chair and runs a hand through his short hair, worry pinching at his eyebrows. "But he's going to need some extra monitoring for the next few days. We just don't have the staff support to give him the overnight care he needs."

My jaw tightens and Jordan sighs as he notices the subtle change in my demeanour. I don't mean to get angry, and it's not aimed at Jordan. I know he cares about every single animal we get in here at least as much as I do. But it's a lot of work for very little financial reward.

When I first visited the shelter around a year ago, Jordan was struggling to keep it open. I couldn't bear to see it go down - leaving all these animals homeless - or worse - sent to shelters that euthanised them when they ran out of room. I worked part time at a music store in the city, so I volunteered my free time to help Jordan out. Luna was one of the first animals I helped and Jordan soon saw that we became bonded, so he waived the adoption fee and Luna came home with me a few weeks after I started helping out.

Since then, business has picked up a little, but there are more animals being brought in every week and the medicines are expensive. Everyone only wants baby animals too. Poor Margie is probably going to be here forever, but if Max makes it, I'm making sure he gets the home he deserves.

"Can I go and see them?" I feel my muscles relax as Jordan nods towards the vet room door. I already know where they are and I make my way through just as the reception girl turns up for her shift. Jordan gives her a friendly greeting and I just catch her smiling at me as I duck behind the door.

The veterinary room is large and smells like a hospital - clinical. It has to be, obviously. A few assorted sized dog cages line one wall and I crouch down next to the smallest, releasing the catch as Margie lifts her tired head to look at me. She looks so sad and it breaks my heart, but she heaves herself up and wobbles towards the opening, climbing straight into my crossed legs and curling up as if I were a human dog bed.