The Sergeant's Christmas Mission

She followed Shane to the back of the apartment, her mind naturally registering that Shane had cleaned up the small space quite a bit while she was gone with the boys. At the back of the garage apartment, in a room only big enough to fit a full-size mattress, Recon was on the unmade bed, whining and licking the kitten’s head.

“He hasn’t opened his eyes.” Shane knelt down beside the bed.

She joined him, taking inventory of the kitten’s condition. “How long has he been like this?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “I was cleaning up. I thought he was sleeping.”

“Have you checked to make sure he’s still breathing?”

She reached out her hand, but Shane stopped her.

“Recon is real protective of this little guy,” the ex-soldier told her. “I checked. The kitten is breathing. Barely. I was just getting ready to take him to the vet.”

“I’ll go with you.”

The kitten was listless but she could see that he was still faintly breathing.

“We’re trying to help him, buddy,” Shane said in a soothing tone to his dog. “You’ve got to let us help him.”

When she first saw Recon, he’d made her nervous. He was a massive dog, all muscle and as black as a moonless night sky. But to see him protecting that tiny, helpless kitten touched her. He wasn’t so scary after all.

Recon growled low and long in his throat when Shane reached for the kitten. For a tense moment, Rebecca actually thought that the German shepherd was going to bite his owner. She let out her breath, unaware that she had been holding it, after Recon let Shane pick up the kitten and wrap the little ball of fur in a towel.

Shane handed the kitten to her. “I’ll drive,” he said.

“Are you sober?” The question flew out of her mouth, which was unusual for her. She’d grown up with a father who tied-one-on every couple of weeks, and she could spot a hangover on someone from a mile away.

Shane opened the door for her and let her walk out first. “Yes.”

“Sorry.” She cradled the kitten in her arms. “I had to ask.”

“I don’t blame you.” Shane pulled the door shut. “But I’m good.”

They rushed out to his refurbished antique candy-apple-red Chevy truck. Recon took his position on the middle part of the bench seat and she climbed into the passenger side.

“What if they can’t take us?” She rubbed the top of the kitten’s head with her thumb, trying to comfort him.

“They will,” he assured her. “I’ve known these folks for a long time.”

It was a tense ride; she prayed all the way to the vet’s office. Shane periodically glanced over at the kitten and repeated the same phrase, “Hang in there, little guy. We’re almost there.”

Chapter Two (#u4be150d3-03c8-5d7b-ba85-49c888df15e0)

Ever since he was a kid, Shane couldn’t stand to see an animal suffer. He also hated to see Recon, who was still faithfully watching over the kitten, so worried and upset. They were lucky that Dr. Harlow could get them in after only a few minutes of waiting.

“I tried to give him water. He couldn’t drink anything,” Shane explained to the vet.

Dr. Harlow, a woman in her midfifties with frizzy, short salt-and-pepper hair gently handled the kitten.

“It’s a she,” the vet informed them. “When did you find her?”

“He’s a girl?” Shane asked.

“She’s a girl, yes.” Dr. Harlow sent Shane the smallest of smiles.

“This morning,” Rebecca told her. “Under my front porch. I have no idea how she got there. I didn’t see a momma kitty or siblings anywhere.”

“Unfortunately—” Dr. Harlow manipulated the kitten’s belly “—she could have been dumped. Or her mother and siblings could have been killed.”

“I thought of that.” Rebecca frowned.

“She’s severely dehydrated and malnourished. And she has an eye infection and an upper respiratory infection.”

Shane instinctively put his hand on Recon’s head, as much to comfort himself as the dog.

“Will she survive?” he asked the vet.

Dr. Harlow’s slow response to his question raised his level of anxiety. The kitten’s survival wasn’t guaranteed.

“I’d have to draw some blood to know what’s going on with her liver and her kidneys. We can treat the dehydration and infections,” the vet told them. “Other than that, I need the blood work.”

“Can I ask,” Rebecca asked with a concerned expression in her pretty hazel eyes, “how much would all of that cost? The fluids and antibiotics and the blood work?”

“I’d have to get the front desk to figure out a total for you...it could be as much as four hundred, five hundred dollars.”

The minute the vet gave them the total, Rebecca’s eyes started to tear up. Shane didn’t know her, but he’d been in some financial binds in his life. He knew he was looking at a woman who wanted to help the little kitten but didn’t have the funds. Shane looked down at Recon; the dog hadn’t taken his eyes off the kitten on the exam table.

The room was silent for a moment while Shane thought about his next move. In the silence, the kitten opened her eyes, stared up at him and made the most pitiful little high-pitched meow he’d ever heard. It was as if she was pleading with him to save her life.

“Do whatever you need to do to save her life,” Shane told the vet. “I’ll take care of the bill.”

“We’ll be keeping her here for several days.” The vet nodded with a smile for him. “I’ll call you then, Shane, with the results of the blood work? We’ll talk about next steps then.”

“Okay.”

Dr. Harlow gently picked up the kitten and handed her to an awaiting technician. “Does she have a name?”

The ex-soldier didn’t know how he’d managed to acquire a kitten, but that’s what had happened.

Shane looked at Recon, who looked back at him with an anxious whine.

“Her name is Top.” He sneezed. “Top Brand.”

* * *

Rebecca opened the front door of her inherited two-story home and surveyed the work. What she really wanted to do was curl up on the couch to take a nap. But to get to the couch, she would have to create a path through the boxes. And as good as a nap sounded, she had to push herself to make progress on the unpacking while her boys were at school. Once they got home, there would be dinner to make and homework to check. Rebecca knew that this was a big adjustment for Carson and Caleb; the sooner she got this house feeling like a home, the better it would be for them.

“No rest for the weary.” She tossed her keys on the kitchen counter on her way to find the vacuum. The cereal explosion she had created was the first on her list of chores.