that girl is POISON

Today, a cat was reprieved. She was to have gone to the oncologist for an ultrasound and biopsy.
But he forgot his keys.
The plan was to pick her up from his home and then go to the only-in-town-once-weekly specialized vet for a four-hour oncology visit.
No rain to contend with for this pet's vet visit, but the path would be beset with obstacles as we were to travel in lunch-time traffic. Time would be one of those obstacles, as we needed to complete the journey from the school to downtown to midtown in about 40 minutes. Doable, but no spare time built in.
So after fleeing northward to retrieve the cat, we arrive to to his home to find: he has left the keys southside.
Really?
Really. The keys were left on his desk in his locked office.
Reprieve for the kitty.
Reprieve for me, too. I had not wanted her to go through this procedure. I had made it clear that I was not in favor of this action. I know it will be painful for her and may well shorten what little time she has left in this world. Pain is such an energy-sapping vampire.
As it stands, this thirteen-year-old has done quite well. The cancer now accounts for about a third of her total body mass. You read that correctly: a THIRD of her mass. In about 8 months' time. But she has seemed pain-free, maintaining a good appetite and good bowel habits and good response to her master's touch.
The key to her existence is for her to continue to have a managed pain level. The key is for her pain to be under her control, rather than the other way around.
His key was left southside.
Coincidence or subconscious thought?
Either way, the cat was safe to continue managing her own pain, her own way.