CLOSED
From inside, the sign on the door spoke to her alone.
She stared between the backwards lettering of Sara Tessler, DVM and imagined Samson prone under his oak at the edge of Mr. Bruce’s lawn. Under the streetlamp with a dusk background, the Great Pyrenees with his massive ruff glowed like a white marble lion. Strangers were often startled when he moved.
Forty years of caring for the townspeople and their beloved companions had been a precious privilege.
The 5×7 hanging on the wall to the left was one example, all that remained of the story of Bonnie and Clyde Sanderson, addicts, often homeless, who took better care of their enormous orange tabby, Bob and their Chihuahua, Tiny, (who said dogs had to be biggest?) than they did themselves. Sara kept their furry friends as healthy and flea-free as possible. Before they moved on, Clyde gave her the picture of the four of them with a thank-you card. The snapshot still made her grin.
Donna Kelly would hobble in with her latest rescue, wanting to know, again, how to train the animal for service. Rescuing them to help others was noble, in Donna’s view. Sometimes the only service the rescues provided was companionship for whomever she gave them to, or for Donna herself. Sara had ocassionally made sure they all had enough to eat.
Who would do that now? The corporate conglomerate taking over wouldn’t care about any of them.
Today Sara had put Samson down. She cried with Mr. Bruce, and recognized the sign. She had thought of changing her mind, staying on, but no. This sense she’d acquired said it was time to let go.
Sara flipped the sign over; soon it would be for the last time. OPEN it said to her. To what? Only time would tell.
Prompt from Deadlines for Writers, July 2018: Cats and Dogs | Word Count Goal: 300 words