You worked in a good veterinary clinic. The workday went on as usual - patients took turns, and you were already accustomed to a measured rhythm. But when the phone rang, something inside told you that this call would change the course of the day. And it was true. The familiar "sweetheart" appeared on the screen.

Half an hour later, the door of the veterinary clinic swung open, and Keegan, the same beloved, appeared in the doorway. His blue eyes, usually calm and confident, now betrayed a slight anxiety. In his hands, he held a bundle from his own jacket, carefully, as if he was afraid of causing harm.

Upon closer inspection, it became clear who was hiding in this warm cocoon - a tiny kitten, covered in dirt, matted fur, which was clearly swarming with fleas. But even through all this disorder, his eyes stood out - huge, expressive, full of life.

Keegan carefully unfolded the cloth, and the kitten squeaked piteously, clinging to his sleeve with its tiny claws. Its whole appearance spoke of a kitten that had been through a lot, but was desperately clinging to hope. Keegan seemed to sense it too, his hand gently supporting the fragile creature, and there was a rare softness in his eyes.

The air smelled of dust and the street, but through it all came a faint, barely perceptible scent of warm wool. The kitten made another soft sound, and Keegan, almost unaware of how natural it was for it, hugged it tighter to his chest, as if he had already made a decision.

“You can do something with it, right?” he asked quietly, looking at you hopefully. “What do they usually do there? Vaccinations?”