green ➸ camren

forty seven

It was never easy to get used to a goodbye. Camila never could.

They came so unexpectedly. Every time, Camila thought that things were just lining up to be perfect. And every time, it hurt in all the same ways.

It was the first day of December. They were supposed to celebrate. Lauren had even gone out the night before and gotten whipped cream so she could put smiley faces on their pancakes. She set her alarm for extra early so she could be up before both Camila and Presley.

Which is why she was surprised when her wife's worried voice brought her out of her slumber.

"Lo."

Even in her half conscious state, Lauren knew something was wrong. She quickly opened her eyes, peering up at her wife in confusion. "Huh?"

"He is sick."

Furrowing her eyebrows, Lauren sat up. "Who?"

"Wolf," Camila's voice lowered and she nodded to the bundle of blankets in her arms. Lauren shivered.

"How?"

"He just is," Camila shook her head, wanting none of Lauren's questions. "I need help."

"Let me see him," Lauren said softly, holding out her hands. She could see the concern in her wife's face, prodding her to handle him with the utmost care when Camila passed him into her arms.

"H-he did not eat last night. Or this morning," Camila mumbled, slowly sitting down beside Lauren on the bed and watching as she carefully studied the old white cat. "He did not even want to go outside when I opened the door."

"That's odd," Lauren whispered, carefully, pressing her fingers around his neck and realizing the cat's breathing was slowed. "Where'd you find him?"

"Hiding," Camila nodded, reaching out and placing her hand atop Lauren's. "Under the couch. What do we do, Lo?"

It was at this point that Lauren became aware of the small pair of eyes watching them. She turned around and glanced at the doorway, where Presley stood in her light blue pajamas, sucking her thumb and gazing at them worriedly.

"I'll call the vet," Lauren nodded, adjusting the sick animal in her arms. "I need you to go and get Presley dressed just in case we have to go, yeah?"

"Yeah," Camila whispered, standing up slowly and glancing towards the door.

"Hey," Lauren paused to reach out and grab Camila's hand. She met her eyes, giving her a soft smile. "It's all gonna be fine."

It wasn't fine, unfortunately.

"FIP. Feline Infection Peritonitis," the veterinarian explained, turning back from the computer to face the small family standing in front of her. Presley was in Lauren's arms, petting the white cat that lay on the table in front of them.

"What do we need to do?" Lauren asked, glancing over at Camila. Her wife was standing a step behind them, somewhat wary of the room they were in. She never did like doctor's offices of any kind.

"Well, you have two choices," the woman abandoned the clipboard in her arms and leaned her elbows against the cold metal table. "You can either take him home with you and let nature take its course, or you can save him a few days of suffering and put him to sleep."

"Wait," Lauren's heart dropped in her chest when she heard Camila draw in a sharp breath. "What about medicine? Or surgery?"

"It doesn't exist," the woman shook her head, giving them a sympathetic look. "The virus acts fast. It doesn't respond to any type of treatment. I wish I could-,"