May Each Soul Find Another Soul to Love

Chapter 26

???? Point of View- Monday Night

It's another typical Monday. I woke up at the butt crack of dawn, dragged myself out of bed and took a piss while chanting, "four more days after today, just four more days until the weekend." The night before, I forwent preparing my lunch in favor of an early bedtime. I make that choice almost every night, and every morning I regret it. This morning was no exception.

Though I sincerely wish our clinic opened just a little later because I absolutely despise mornings, I love my job, I love the people I work with, and most of all, I love all the wagging tails, and whiskered snoots that greet me each morning. Life as a veterinary technician is exactly what I wanted. I get to work with animals every day but without the overwhelming responsibilities of the veterinarian himself. After I put in a full day at the clinic, I spend the rest of my evening helping at a local animal rescue center.

Today was a difficult day for the rescue world. We were tipped off to a small apartment that reportedly reeked terribly, and one neighbor even reported seeing a dead cat lying on the floor in front of the door. When we went to investigate, it turned out to be the home of a hoarder, with piles upon piles of junk lining every surface, stretching floor to ceiling in height. The place smells heavily of cat urine and trash and it was so cluttered with refuse, we could barely make our way through it. Even my colleague with years of experience and who has seen pretty much everything, was taken aback by the sheer filth plaguing the apartment.

"Jesus, Ang. How does someone even live like this?" He asked as he inspected the worn cushion of a torn up armchair.

"I don't know. Mental disability a guess? It's so sad that these poor animals had to suffer because of it." Our exchange was muffled by the bandanas we wore around our faces. They were supposed to filter out some of the stench, but the piece of cotton was no match for this stink.

It was incredibly difficult to rummage through all the roach infested crap, searching tirelessly for as many live animals as we could find. In the end, we found the decaying bodies of ten cats and were able to actually rescue a little over a dozen. Every cat rescued is a victory, one less animal to be subjected to abuse, but still my heart aches for all the animals we can't save. They are the ones that keep me up at night.

By the time I got out of there and made it back home, I felt both emotionally and physically drained, wanting nothing more than to eat my dinner and watch TV.

The wooden door swings open to my empty apartment, its rusty hinges squeaking obnoxiously in protest. For perhaps the twentieth time this month, I make a mental note to remember to grease those hinges, so I don't have to hear that god awful noise again. The apartment is mostly obscured in darkness, only a little light manages to seep in from the single window resting above the two-person breakfast table. After flicking the lights on, I strip out of my scrubs as I walk the few short steps needed to get to the kitchen. My stomach rumbles while I sift through my cabinets, eventually settling on a cup of instant ramen.

While it cooks in the microwave I go over to my bedroom, toss my dirty scrubs in the hamper and shrug on a pair of sweatpants. The feeling of unclasping my bra and whipping the thing off is heavenly. I sigh happily as I pull my maroon tank over my head, finally in a state worthy of relaxation. I know I should shower, especially after sifting through that gross house, but I'm just too tired. Instead, I grab my ramen, cozy up on the couch and flick the television on. It's already just after 9pm which means my favorite late-night talk show should be in full swing by now.

I cheer loudly the moment I see the familiar fiery red hair and cute dimples of the talk show host. It looks like he's invited a guest, a teenage boy with dark green curls and a smattering of freckles. There's something familiar about him, though I can't quite place my finger on it.