Anders hit the 'enter' key on his keyboard with much more force than necessary. He turned around and leaned against the counter, his hands behind his back. The miniature poodle in front of him on the table licked its lips and whined.

Anders tapped on the hard surface of the counter with his fingertips, the rhythm agitated. "At this point," he said through gritted teeth, "It really is a quality of life issue. I'm not trying to 'nag' you, as you put it, but my job is to be an advocate for Teddy's welfare and his current dental health is a serious negative - "

"I just don't have that kind of money to spend on him," the woman said. "Particularly not since, well, he's old, you know..."

Anders stopped tapping and gripped the edge of the bench with one of his hands. "Madam, he is ten," he snapped. "He might easily live another four or five years. It's not acceptable to keep him in pain because you're hoping he'll die soon and save you money."

She drew herself up, hand flying to her mouth. "Well I – how dare you," she spluttered. "Teddy is very dear to me and I've always – "

"Not dear enough for you to feel bad about his teeth rotting out of his mouth, apparently!"

She clutched the poodle to her chest, as if Anders was going to hurt him. "You can't – "

"You've been bringing him to me for two years now and every time I tell you the same thing! I'm sick of it. Your dog's teeth are appalling and you should be ashamed. If I had my way he'd be taken off you by the authorities." Anders dragged his stethoscope off and slammed it on the tabletop. "Sadly I'm just the vet, so what do I know? Get out of my consult room."

His hands were shaking as he stormed out, slamming the door behind himself.

God, the selfishness! The hypocrisy! It baffled Anders, it really did, how one could claim to love an animal and yet brush it off when told they were in pain. I hate people sometimes!

He stood in the hallway, breathing heavily, trying to calm himself down. He covered his hot face with his hands. What am I doing here? I'm not good at this. I'm not strong enough to deal with this. Why did I ever think I got my degree for the animals? I'm just here to serve people's convenience and make them feel better!

God, is this going to be the rest of my life? Failing to convince ignorant and stupid people that they should give a damn about their animals? I can't do it!

If I were a better vet I would find a way to deal with this…!

Anders could hear the raised voice of the woman he'd just shouted at, coming down the hallway from reception. He grimaced, pushing a hand through his hair. He was going to get into trouble about that. Frankly, Anders thought the clinic was probably better off without her patronage, but he doubted his bosses would see it that way.

By the time she had left, he was a bit calmer. He wandered morosely up the hall to ask the nurse on the reception desk about it. Through the doorway, he caught sight of a familiar face – bright blue eyes, and a muscled forearm leaning on the reception desk.

His heart skipped. Before he had even completely registered what it was he'd seen, Anders found himself tucked behind the pharmacy door.

Anders cursed under his breath when he realised he was hiding in the pharmacy from a client. Not his most dignified moment.

"Hello… I'm sorry, I don't have an appointment. We normally see Dr Anders…"

Well, he wasn't going to come out now.

He let his head fall back against the door and closed his eyes, resigned to staying there until Hawke was gone. He had asked the nurses to schedule Max with somebody else if they possibly could, but Hawke kept asking for him. It was becoming a practice in-joke.

"I'm sorry, Mr Hawkins, Anders probably isn't free today," the nurse was saying apologetically. "I could fit you in with Dr Merrill…."

"That's fine," he heard. "I mean, I'd obviously rather keep seeing Anders, but Max really can't wait, so whoever you have will be fine."

Anders' raised his head, frowning. The voice almost wasn't recognisable as Hawke's; flat, worried, unusually quiet.

"All right, then, Mr Hawkins, Merrill is with someone at the moment but she should be free in half an hour…"

"That's fine. Thank you. Can I bring him in from the car and wait in here?"

"Of course… what's been going on with him today?"

He heard Hawke give a worried sigh, over the tick-tacking of the nurse's fingers on the keys. "He can't keep anything down, not food, not water… Woke up this morning and he's just lying around, doesn't want to do anything..."

"So, this started yesterday?"

"Well… late last night, yeah…" Hawke mumbled. "Got the morning off work to get him down here… Something's really badly wrong, I can tell."

Anders stared ahead of himself at the wall of bottles and packets, guilt twisting in his stomach. Here he was, hiding in a drug cupboard from a perfectly nice human who actually did care and wanted to do his best for his dog.

He stepped out from behind the door, and cleared his throat awkwardly. Hawke and the nurse glanced up, surprised.

He gave a helpless smile. "I'm, er, finished that consult earlier than I thought," he said to the nurse. "Just give me a few minutes to clean up and I can see Max. We can reschedule the next one."

.

Wrestling a 60kg dog onto the clinic's X-ray table wasn't something he was looking forward to, but in the end they had managed. Thank God for digital X-rays…

"If you look here," Anders said, his fingers sweeping across the viewing screen. "You can see where all this gas is backed up behind… this here." His finger stabbed at the centre of the abdomen. "It's probably a toy or a bone or something."

Hawke looked from the X-ray back to Anders' face. His arms were folded tightly, and his face was taut and frightened. "OK, Anders," he said uncertainly. "If you say so."

Max lay on the floor at their feet, quiet, head down on his massive paws. His brow furrowed as he glanced up at them from time to time, but he didn't make a sound.

"So what next?" Hawke said. "Do you have to operate and take it out?"

"Yes," Anders said gently. He felt, oddly enough, perfectly calm. Other patients, other worries fell away and everything he had was focussed on the current problem, the animal and the patient in front of him. Test results and history and symptoms all falling into place in his head and mapping out where to go from here.

This, Anders could do. Anders was good at this.

Hawke listened, his face pale, as Anders went through what would be involved in the surgery, the risks, possible complications, and the cost. "Well," he said hoarsely when Anders was finished. "I guess that's what we'll have to do, then. We'll manage. Will you – will you do it this afternoon?"

"We'll have to stabilise him first," Anders said. "But yes, probably. If you want to leave him with me, and head out to the front desk to fill out some paperwork, I'll get him started on a drip."

Hawke nodded, and smoothed his hair back from his face, swearing to himself. He got down on his knees beside the dog, to cradle the huge head in his hands and whisper to him. "Hey, boy. Heeeeey, boy. You'll stay here with Anders, right?"

Max whuffed softly and his tail thumped against the floor a few times.

"Anders and Beth'll look after you. Yes they will. Who's such a good boy…"

Ander bit his lip and studied the x-ray industriously, trying to pretend he couldn't hear. It was fairly normal for him to feel calm, at least with the owner actually in front of him; he figured it was a good thing. They usually needed the reassurance of Anders being cool and calm and unworried.

Hawke stood up, scrubbing a hand across his eyes.

"We've got a good chance," Anders said. He was battling the urge to say 'It will be alright, he'll pull through'. Because Anders couldn't promise that; no vet could promise that without caveats. So Anders never did. But something about the sight of Hawke made him want to say it anyway.

"He's in the best hands," Hawke said. "I know he is." He looked around the x-ray room with a lost expression, tousled Max's ears a final time, and left.

Anders looked down at Max, who was watching his owner leave with ears pricked forward.

"No, you're with me now," he said. "Now look what you've got yourself into, hmm? What did you want to eat that for, whatever it is?"

Max gave the tiniest little 'boof' and his tail thumped on the floor.

.

Anders opened the consult room door, and had his arm almost pulled out of his socket. Heedless of the lead wrapped around Anders' hand, Max ploughed into the room, dragging the hapless vet behind him. His barks rang off the walls, and people out in the waiting room looked up in surprise.

"Boof boof BOOF BOOF BOOF-!"

"Heeeeeey boy! Here you are! Here you are! Look at yoouuuuu…" Hawke, kneeling on the floor, had been knocked bodily backwards and was currently being trampled. He didn't seem to mind.

"Augh, Max, I need those," Anders complained, laughing, massaging his fingers. He looked down at the complicated pile of furry limbs and ripped jeans and whirling tail on the floor. "I think he wants to go home, Hawke!"

"Oh, man, I am so ready to have him home," Hawke enthused, climbing up out of the pile. And then, so fast Anders didn't have time to dodge or see it coming, he crossed the room in two long strides and gave Anders the biggest clap on the shoulders he had ever received. "Thank you so much!"

"You – you're welcome," Anders stammered, his back smarting, his cheeks unaccountably flushed. "It's my job. It's what I do."

Hawke gave him a wild grin, and turned back to wrap his arms around Max, who hadn't stopped barking throughout the entire exchange.

"By the way," Anders said hurriedly, turning away. "I didn't show you this before…" He ducked back out to the treatment room and came back with a kidney dish in a plastic bag.

"Oh, is this what you found?" Hawke came over to the consult table, curious. "What was it?"

The object in the kidney dish – which had been extracted with considerable difficulty, much swearing, and about three enterotomies by Anders – was much the worse for its journey through Max's insides, and barely recognisable. But you could still just about make out the printed image of something blue with round eyes…

"Cookie monster, I believe," Anders said, struggling not to smile.

Hawke stared at the revolting remains of what had once been a pair of men's boxers. His cheeks and then his ears went crimson.

"Are they yours?"

"Oh," Hawke said in a very small voice. "How did…"

"Your partner's, maybe?"

"Um. I don't have – I mean, uh, no. Mine," Hawke admitted. He looked back over to the dog. "Max, you asshole…"

"Do you want them back?" Anders offered, his mouth twitching.

Hawke shot an embarrassed glance at Anders, found him grinning, and answered with a grin of his own. "Nah, doc, you can keep them. Thanks all the same."