My Summer With a Beautiful Veterinarian
Not all that begins well ends well. But that doesn’t mean it wasn’t meaningful.
The heat shimmered off of the pavement as I drove through the tree-lined grid of homes in Saint Petersburg, Florida.
My navigation, always great with its timing, decided to sputter from a weak signal. Finally, I pulled up to a small white house and realized I’d already passed it twice.
The yard was patchy and green. A giant, black, lifted pickup truck — a ride typically used by a hyper-masculine Floridian man — was in the garage. I grew slightly concerned, wondering if I had the right address, or if I was on the verge of being catfished.
But the address was correct. This had to be it. I felt overdressed in my button up shirt and nice jeans as I walked down the gravel driveway. People walked by in yoga pants and casual shorts with their dogs while others did yard work. I felt like a stray bro-dude in suburbia.
After I knocked, I instantly heard barking, as if these K9s had waited all day for this moment. The door opened to reveal one of the most beautiful women I’d ever seen. She stood 5'7 with dark, shoulder-length hair. She was half Native American, and had big eyes and a beaming contagious smile.
