A week later, they returned to the clinic for a checkup. The vet grinned the moment she saw them. “Looks like you’ve both been spoiled rotten.”
Tracks wagged so hard he nearly knocked over the scale; Switch rolled over for a belly rub before she even touched the stethoscope.
“They’re strong,” she said. “You did good, Thomas.” He shook his head. “They did better.”
Before leaving, he placed a small donation envelope on the counter—no words, just a note inside that read, *For the next pair who needs a miracle.*
