For the past few months, John has managed to earn approximately eight hundred seventy-three bucks, plus twenty-five cents. It was a lot for a few months, but it was not enough.
That doesn't mean he was going to give up, though.
Dr. Erik Haukass stepped back from Schoep resting on the cool, metallic table. He sighed, eyes scanning the notes on a clipboard in his hand. "I'm sorry, John," he said, meeting the eyes of the other man across the table. "As he ages without having the treatment, the arthritis will only get worse. And it has."
John's heart sank. He pursed his lips, caressing the hair on Schoep's head. "We just need time," he said, more to himself than anyone else.
Erik pressed his lips into a thin line, placing the clipboard aside. "That's one thing I need to talk to you about."
John kept his eyes on Schoep's head, waiting for the vet to continue.
"He only has until early August. The latest will probably be in the middle of the month, but over that, he's ..."
Gone, finished the silence between them.
His heart sank deeper, and breathing was gradually turning into a struggle. But he stayed afloat. Time, he thought, I only need time. Maybe a few more months. After that, he could pay for the treatment Schoep needed, and he'll live longer than August.
"I don't want him to suffer anymore, John."
Me too was at the tip of his tongue, but he swallowed it. He knew what that truly meant, and he most certainly wasn't going to agree with it.
"And that's why I'm earning for the treatment," he said, as he gently hoisted Schoep on his shoulder. And not for the euthanasia, he wanted to add. But saying it out loud felt like a sin.
He paused to meet the vet's eyes, standing across the table. "Thank you, Dr. Haukass, for today."
Erik nodded. "Okay. Keep going with the pain meds."
John took his leave.