The vet’s office is in Burnaby, but because we don’t have a car at Horseshoe Bay right now, Dr. Lori has a young, pink-haired tech waiting for us at the marina. She hands over a small cooler with some medications and then a duffel bag full of everything Dr. Stillson might need to fix up my dumb dog.
“There’s some extra stuff in there, too, for next time,” she says. Her scrubs have kittens on them.
“Let’s hope there is no next time,” I say, taking the cooler. “Please thank Dr. Lori again, and have her send the bill for all this right away. Plus the delivery fee. I’m so grateful.”
“Good luck!” The tech waves goodbye and disappears into the parking lot as we head back to the moored boat. Finan secures the supplies in the cabin, unties, and takes us back out to sea.
About halfway across, t
