Cathy didn’t know how to reply. She doubted Brody had even finished high school, and she was well aware of the amount of education and training required of a veterinarian because she, herself, had entertained the idea of becoming one once. That was before the accident that took her parents, her spirit, and part of her face. All that was left was her compassion for animals — the weak and injured ones, the abandoned strays, and those like Hobo who only needed a special person’s love to survive and thrive. Cathy felt that Brody fell into those same categories. He seemed to be hurting and in need of a caring friend.
“I know it’s not possible. Looka me. I’m almost sixty. I should be thinkin’ of retirin’ soon, but I got no money and never worked a job fer more dan a month or two.”
Cathy sudden
