The Broken Stray No One Wanted Became the Soul of Our Clinic

But I was.

Because if I’m honest, it wasn’t just about him.

I was tired too. Tired in that quiet American way where you keep showing up, keep smiling, keep doing your job, and nobody notices you’re running on fumes because you’re still functioning.

I lived alone. Ate standing at the kitchen counter half the time. Had more conversations with animals than people some weeks. And there was something about Patch that got under my skin. Maybe because he didn’t ask for much. Maybe because he looked like what survival actually feels like.

So we let him stay.