Ethan

I rolled out of bed before the sun had even kissed the horizon. Frosted dew fogged my windows, blurring the dark figures of the ranch hands, already hard at work.

My schedule may be unpredictable, but at least I don’t have to begin every day before dawn.

I opened my closet door and selected a clean set of scrubs. A pregnant French Bulldog in need of a C-section had spurred me out of bed even earlier than usual. Once dressed, I went into the kitchen ...