04/01/2026
I came to Everhart Veterinary Hospital on a day when I didn’t feel much like myself.
I was tired, not very strong, and I needed help. I didn’t know where I would end up—I just knew I needed someone to take care of me. And they did. From the moment I arrived, the team at Everhart gave me everything I needed: medical care, warmth, food, and time.
At first, I think they thought I would just stay for a little while.
But I had other plans.
As I started to feel better, I began to learn the rhythm of the hospital—the sounds, the people, the feeling of the place. I found my favorite spots to nap, my favorite windows to watch through, and, most importantly, my people. Before long, I wasn’t just visiting anymore. I was home.
Over the years, I got to know everyone at Everhart in my own way. I learned who walked quickly and who needed a slower step beside them. I learned who laughed loudly and who kept things quiet. And somehow, I learned when someone needed me.
On those days, I would go find them.
I’d sit beside them, lean into their hand, or curl up close enough so they knew they weren’t alone. I didn’t need to say anything—I just needed to be there. It seemed to help.
I also made sure no one took things too seriously for too long. There were papers to sit on, pens to knock over, and perfectly good workspaces that clearly needed a cat in the middle of them. Keeping everyone smiling was part of my job too.
For ten years, this was my life—walking the halls of Everhart Veterinary Hospital, checking in on my people, and being exactly where I was needed.
And I was always needed.
Yesterday, my body told me it was time to rest. The same people who once helped me heal were there with me again, making sure I was safe, comfortable, and surrounded by love. I wasn’t afraid—I knew I was right where I belonged.
I know things feel different at the hospital today. I know my spots are empty and the halls are a little quieter.
But if you look closely, I’m still there.