A Christmas to Remember. Rebecca Moesta

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      Dr. John Blake only had a few house calls left for the day. As he drove, surrounded by the beauty of nature in Colorado’s high country, he couldn’t help but think how fortunate he was to live here. He braked suddenly as a squirrel darted across the road in front of his pickup, and then grinned as he watched it scamper off to the side. He and his children loved watching animals so much that he’d made a squirrel feeder in the shape of a small picnic table for their backyard. He started down the road again, glad that he had four-wheel drive and antilock brakes—although in truth, up here in the high country, those things weren’t so much a luxury as a necessity.

      He headed back toward North Creek, Colorado, population 4,820, where he had been born and raised. Maneuvering through the heart of town, he waved to people on the street as he passed. Nearly everyone in North Creek knew everyone else. It had the perfect blend of small-town feeling and larger-town tourist amenities, with skiing and snowboarding in the winter, hiking and fishing in the summer, and festivals and cute shops year-round.

      Activating his blinker, he looked in all directions before turning onto one of North Creek’s secondary roads. He was safety-minded. Might as well do all you can to protect yourself from things you can control when there are so many things you can’t.

      A flash of sweet sorrow at the memory made him catch his breath. He shook off the urge to let his thoughts wander. It was Christmas, and he had good work to do. There weren’t many people in the world who had jobs they enjoyed so much and the kind of deep connections he had with his patients and their families.

      He pulled the truck up in front of the house of his next appointment and checked the clock on his phone. Good, he was running a few minutes early. He had plenty of time to spend. He never liked to leave a family feeling worried or shortchanged because he’d had to leave in a hurry. He thought of his patient, little Katy. Hopefully, there was nothing seriously wrong with her.

      As he got out of the pickup, he grabbed his black leather medical bag, one of his few nods to formality in medicine. Life in Colorado’s mountains was more casual than in big cities. Today he wore a brown leather jacket with shearling collar and cuffs over a quilted vest and a fleece with a pair of comfortable jeans. As a Colorado native, he knew that layering his clothes was the trick to keeping warm. No hat or gloves today, but he always kept those in the truck for occasions when he was going to spend a long time outside.

      The house was white, with red trim around the windows, surrounded by a wooden picket fence. A waving inflatable Santa stood in the front yard beside a bird feeder. A wide front porch that ran the entire width of the house was decorated for Christmas. Fir garlands accented with frosted red bows and tiny clear lights lined the porch rails, and strings of colored bulbs draped the row of spindly balusters above the porch frame.

      John knocked beside the glass on the front door. Nancy Varney, a short, kindly-looking woman with graying brown hair and rimless glasses, answered the door.

      “Nancy, how are you doing?” he asked.

      “Dr. Blake, thank you so much for coming. Katy just doesn’t seem herself,” Nancy said in a rush. She opened the door wider for him to come in.

      “Well, let’s take a look at the little patient.” John walked into the living room and saw Katy huddled on a cushion on a rattan chair. “There she is.”

      “I guess I’m just a nervous mom,” Nancy said, looking for all the world like the librarian she was. She fiddled anxiously with the strand of pearls visible at the neck of her cream ruffled blouse and purple sweater.

      Katy, his feline patient, was a chocolate-point, doll-faced Himalayan. John approached Katy slowly, holding out his hand to her and speaking in soft tones. The blue-eyed cat sniffed him.

      “How are you doing, sweetie? Let’s take a look here,” John said, gently stroking Katy’s forehead with the backs of his fingers.

      “This morning Katy tried to jump onto the curio cabinet, but she slipped and fell,” Nancy explained. “She hasn’t been herself since then, and she limps when she walks.”

      John had Nancy hold Katy while he examined her. He shared his findings as he worked. “She’s alert and responsive. That’s always good. Temperature and heart rate just slightly elevated. Her coat looks healthy, and you’re doing a great job with the grooming.” He felt along the cat’s neck and stomach. “No lumps or enlarged lymph nodes. Okay, let’s see how she walks.”

      Nancy put Katy on the floor, went to the other side of the room, and called her. The cat gingerly hobbled over to her.

      John nodded. “She’s definitely limping on that right hind leg, but she is using it. That’s encouraging.”

      Nancy picked Katy up, and John examined each of the cat’s legs, starting at the foot and working his way up. He saved the injured leg for last.

      Katy flinched and gave a short waowrr when he touched it.

      “It’s tender, isn’t it, sweetie? I’m sorry. We’ll get you fixed up,” he said in a soothing voice. Then he told Nancy, “The leg is warm and sensitive right now. It’s a sprain, but we can treat it right here at home.”

      Nancy looked relieved.

      John gave Katy a shot of Meloxidyl. “This is just a low dose of anti-inflammatory to help with the pain.”

      Nancy made them a pot of tea, and they sat while John explained how to care for Katy’s leg injury.

      “She СКАЧАТЬ