Cristina Yang loved the weekends.

She worked such long hours during the week that when the weekend came, she would cherish every minute of it. She loved doing absolutely nothing on those two days.

At her corporate job, she was so intensely busy during the day. She worked from 6 a.m. to 6 p.m. every weekday. She loved her job and that was why she spent so many hours at work. She was usually up at 5 a.m. and on the road by 5.30 a.m. and in her office by 6 a.m. She would usually pick up her breakfast on the way to work and have it at desk. She liked getting in early and starting her work way before any of her colleagues made it in. Her drive and dedication had certainly not gone unnoticed by her bosses and she had been singled out as one to watch. At 27, she had already made a name for herself at Stelridge Inc.

During the week, she was a corporate animal. But this was definitely not the case on the weekends. On Saturday morning, she never got up earlier than noon. She had to make up for all of those early mornings during the week.


This particular morning or rather, this particular noontime, started like any other. Cristina dragged herself out of the bed to use the bathroom and brush her teeth. Then, she headed to the kitchen to get something to eat. She made herself a cup of tea and then looked in her refrigerator to see what was edible in there. She groaned. It was full of leftovers from the entire week of takeout food she had bought for her dinner. The one from Monday had probably gone bad, she figured. After all, it was the oldest food in the fridge. She started smelling each carton to figure out if they needed to be thrown in the trash. As she cleaned out her refrigerator, she kept hearing a persistent scratching on her kitchen door.

She hoped that it was not a raccoon. She had heard that raccoons carried rabies and the last thing she needed was a rabid raccoon on her doorstep. She opened the broom closet and took out the biggest broom. She was prepared to swat this raccoon away from her townhouse. She slowly opened the back door, looked around and then looked down.

It wasn't a raccoon. It was a small pup - a white French bulldog pup. "Hey there," Cristina said. "What are you doing here? Where is your owner?"

The pup, who looked to be about six months old, stared up mournfully at her.

"Are you lost?" Cristina asked. She took a final look around before she reluctantly allowed the small dog to enter her house. She didn't want a small animal in her townhouse but it seemed like she had no choice. She didn't have the time or the patience to deal with a pup. But she couldn't very well turn him away. He seemed to be in desperate need. She picked him up and took a good look at his face. She couldn't deny he was very cute with his large dark brown eyes. It was like he was looking straight into her soul.

He had a black collar on but it was broken. If he was wearing a collar, that meant he definitely belonged to someone. But he had no tags. "Why did your owners make it so difficult for me? No tags," she said. She placed him back on the floor. "Are you hungry?" she asked him.

She opened back the refrigerator. "Well, I was in the middle of cleaning this out. Let's see what we can find for you. How does chicken sound? I had Chinese take-out, last night. I still have noodles and some stir-fry vegetables. I mean it is not the best thing for a dog but it is all I have right now." She found a paper-plate, put the food on it and placed it on the ground.

The tubby puppy sniffed at it at first. "I know it is not what you are probably used to but I am pretty sure it tastes better than those cardboard pebbles that you eat." The pup tentatively took a bite. "There you go," Cristina said. "Just a little more."

After one taste, the puppy started wolfing down the rest of the food. "Ah, you're very hungry. Now that you have eaten what I had planned to eat, I better find something else in the fridge." She took out the pizza that was Thursday's dinner and started chewing on it. She watched the pup eat. He had surprised her with his healthy appetite. He looked up gratefully at her when he finished.

She took out a small plastic bowl, filled it water and gave it to him to drink. He finished off his water. "Thirsty, too, I see." He looked up at her, adoringly.

"Oh, please don't give me that look," she said. "I cannot take care of you. I am going to take your picture and put up posters and someone will come for you." The pup decided to take a better look at his new surroundings. As he walked around, sniffing everything, she noticed that he was limping and favoring one of his back legs.

"Are you hurt? Your back leg seems to be injured," she said. "Oh dear, now it seems that I have to take you to the vet." She didn't know any vets. She never had the need to know any vets. Who could she call? Then she remembered the cat lady from work – Kathleen from the IT department. Kathleen had two Siamese cats that she had named Thelma and Louise. Kathleen was always going on about her cats' vet – how handsome he was, how gentle he was, how he gave Thelma and Louise excellent care. Well, she figured, if he was good enough for Thelma and Louise, he should be good enough for this pup. She scrolled through her contacts on her phone.

"Ah, here we are," Cristina said, pressing the call button. Kathleen answered, almost immediately. She recognized Cristina's number. Why would Cristina be calling her on a weekend, unless she had some sort of computer problem? Cristina Yang was small but she could be a tyrant in the workplace.

"Miss Yang," Kathleen answered. "How may I help you?" She had gone into full professional mode.

"Good afternoon, Kathleen. I need your help but it is nothing computer-related," Cristina said. Somehow, that made Kathleen a little more anxious.

"Uh, what is it?" Kathleen asked. Why would Cristina Yang be calling her if it was not tech-related? She and Cristina were not friends.

"It's about your vet. The one you use for Thelma and Louise. You said he gave excellent care. I was wondering if you can give me his name and address, please," Cristina said. "I may have a patient for him."

"Oh, you mean Dr. Hunt," Kathleen said, relieved. "Hold on. Let me get his card off my refrigerator." Cristina waited the few seconds for Kathleen to return. "Okay, his full name is Owen Hunt and his clinic is located at 222 Forester Avenue. On Saturdays, his hours are from 1 p.m. to 6 p.m. Yes, he takes walk-ins, but you would have to wait for clients with appointments to be seen first."

"Thank you so much, Kathleen," Cristina said. "That's fine. I know the area. I will see you on Monday. Have a good weekend."

"You, too, Miss Yang," Kathleen said, before she hung up. Cristina stared at the pup, who stared right back at her. Her whole weekend of doing nothing was disappearing right before her eyes.

"Uh, okay, since we don't know how long you will be gracing my premises, I guess we should get you a few things to make you a little more comfortable. So what we will do is go to the pet store and pick up some essentials for you - dog food, a proper bowl, a bed, a new collar, some toys. How does that sound?" she said. The pup stared even more intently at her. "Well, I am going to take that stare as a yes. After the pet store, we will go to this vet, Dr. Hunt, and let him see about that back leg. Does that sound like a plan or what? If you would just excuse me, I am going to get a shower, change my clothes and I will be right back."

Cristina returned and found the pup sitting in the same spot. "You do listen," she told him. "So shall we?" She picked him up and tucked him under her arm. They drove to the nearest PetSmart and together, they went through the aisles. As she went through each item that she had planned to buy for the pup, she found herself reading and comparing all of the labels, painstakingly making sure to choose the best one for her animal. By the time she was through, two hours had passed. She checked her watch. It was already 4.30 p.m. "Oh, good grief, I have to get you to the doctor to have your leg checked."

She packed everything in her car and headed to the vet's clinic. It was a lovely clinic, painted in yellow. The name of the clinic was called Paws, Claws, Feathers and Fur Animal Clinic. She knew it was the right one because there was a small sign near the door which said "Owen Hunt, DVM." She picked up the pup and tucked him under her arm and stepped into the clinic. There were quite a few people waiting there, most of them had dogs or cats. She groaned. That meant that she would have to wait a while. She stepped up to the desk.

"Hello, my name is Cristina Yang and I brought this dog to see the vet, please," she said. The receptionist looked at her. "Has the dog been here before?" the receptionist peered at her, over her glasses. Cristina shook her head.

"Well, okay, then, fill out these forms," the receptionist said, handing her a form on a clipboard. "Please try to fill it out as accurately as you can."

Cristina sat down and started to fill out the form. The section of the form for the Owner was easy since it was about her. She really wasn't the Owner but she was the Human bringing the dog in.

As for the dog section of the form, she stopped at the very first line, "Name." She didn't have a clue what this dog was named. "What about Rover?" she asked. The pup looked doubtful. "What about Fluffy? No, no, that sounds like a cat. Oh, I got it. Taz. Sounds cute and cool." She wrote down "TAZ." Under Age, she had no idea. She just wrote "Pup." At least she knew the breed of the dog, "French bulldog." She knew nothing about vaccinations, previous illnesses or surgeries. She left that blank. Cristina handed back the clipboard to the receptionist, who gave her a steely look, when she noticed how many blank spaces were left on the form.

"He's not my dog," Cristina protested. She felt the receptionist was judging her, harshly. "And I made up a name for him, too."

"Okay, you do realize that you will have to wait, until Dr. Hunt sees all of the other clients," the receptionist said. Cristina nodded glumly. She and Taz returned to their seats. She glanced at the magazines and picked up a copy of Dog Fancy to read. She sighed every time another client's name was called. An hour or so later, she and Taz were the only ones left in the waiting room.

"Taz Yang," the receptionist called out. Good grief, Cristina thought, it wasn't even her dog and now he carried her last name. She gave the receptionist a tight smile, as she and Taz made their way to the doctor's examination room.

She placed Taz on the exam room table. Taz whimpered, miserably. "So you've been to the vet before, haven't you, boy?"

"Good evening," a deep voice boomed behind her. She turned around, swiftly. She gasped a little but not loud enough to be audible. The strawberry-blonde vet, who was smiling at her, was tall and handsome. Kathleen, owner of Thelma and Louise, was right.


A/N Please leave your thoughts and comments. This is a brand new story so feedback would be greatly appreciated on whether I should continue this. Thanks.