~ It Can Wait ~
Running a wildlife sanctuary is never just a job.
For Jackson and his western grey kangaroo wife, Lira, every day is different. Some begin with sleepy joeys and shared coffee. Others begin before dawn with the ringing of the rescue phone and another life lost on the roadside.
Between orphaned joeys, endless bottles, sleepless nights, muddy boots, quiet grief, and the small moments that make it all worthwhile, they discover that love isn't measured by grand gestures—but by a hand between the ears, a warm mug waiting after a hard day, and knowing when everything else can simply... wait.
A gentle slice-of-life tale about wildlife rehabilitation, marriage, compassion, healing, and finding light even after the hardest days.
~ It Can Wait ~
© Cederwyn Whitefurr
June 2026
All Rights Reserved.
Chapter 1: Morning After Glow
Dawn was barely a promise when Lira was already up and moving. She stood at the kitchen counter in nothing but dark underwear and a snug sports bra, warming bottles of milk replacer while her tail swayed lazily behind her. A soft hum filled the quiet cabin.
Last night had been beautiful. The kind of slow, passionate night that reminded her exactly why she and her mate worked so well together. She still carried that warm, satisfied glow this morning.
The bedroom door creaked. Lira’s muzzle curved into a soft, content smile.
Her mate shuffled out looking thoroughly wrecked — hair mussed, eyes bleary, moving like every muscle had been pleasantly used up. She turned, still holding a warm bottle, and gave him a bright, affectionate grin. Hopping over, she rose onto her hind legs and licked his cheek tenderly.
“Morning, love,” she murmured.
Cheerful and completely at ease, she gathered the bottles and headed outside to feed the orphaned joeys, ears perked and tail flicking happily.
He slumped into a kitchen chair, folded his arms on the table, and dropped his head onto them with a low, tired groan.
* * *
Chapter 2: That Particular Tone
It was a good life. Quiet most days, sometimes exhausting, often filthy with dirt and fur. Exactly where they both wanted to be.
This afternoon had been mercifully calm. No emergency call outs, no new intakes — just the usual rhythm of sanctuary work. Lira had spent the morning checking on the older greys in the main enclosure while he repaired another section of fence the wallabies kept testing. By early afternoon they’d both wandered back to the cabin. He settled into the small office nook to tackle emails and a grant report. She pottered around the house in that easy, contented way she had after a good day.
Their cabin smelled of eucalyptus and sun-warmed fur. Slanted sunlight caught on the usual clutter of joey formula and medical supplies scattered across the bench.
He was halfway through typing a reply when Lira’s voice floated out from the kitchen, sweet and deceptively innocent.
“You want a snack, Jackson?”
His fingers paused over the keyboard. That particular tone usually meant trouble. Still, his stomach growled at the idea.
“Yeah, that’d be good,” he called back, already saving his work. “What’ve you got?”
No answer. Just soft rustling and the faint crinkle of something being unwrapped.
He should have known better.
* * *
Chapter 3: Deceptive Innocence
Lira leaned against the scarred kitchen counter, warm afternoon light catching on the darker slate-grey of her western grey pelt. The big doe peeled the banana slowly, her warm woodland-brown eyes lifting to lock onto her mate across the small table.
That half-innocent, mostly bedroom look hit him straight in the chest like it always did. She brought the fruit to her muzzle, lips parting as she slid it deeper, tongue curling around the length with slow, wet strokes. A thin trail of juice escaped down her chin and onto the soft fur of her chest.
Her thick tail shifted lazily behind her while the warm, musky edge of her growing arousal threaded through the familiar cabin scents. She held his gaze, lashes lowering just a touch as she sucked harder, the quiet wet sounds filling the space between them.
“Poor thing,” she murmured around the banana, voice low and rough with want. “Look at you. Bet you’re thinking about something else filling my muzzle instead.”
She gave the fruit another long lick, eyes sparkling with mischief and promise, one paw drifting down to rest lightly over the warm line of her pouch. One ear flicked forward while the other stayed relaxed, that signature eyebrow arching in perfect teasing sync. The implication hung thick between them — innocent and sultry, all at once.
He stared at her.
Lira’s ears flicked - one forward, one back - as she watched the flush climb up his neck and the way his jaw tightened. The look in his eyes was pure, heated promise.
Her woodland-brown eyes widened in perfect mock innocence.
“Oh,” she said sweetly, setting the mostly-eaten banana down on the counter. “I just remembered — I completely forgot to check the water trough on the far side of the eastern enclosure. Silly me.”
She was already moving, powerful hind legs carrying her toward the back door with suspicious speed.
“Lira...”
“Won’t be long, Jackson!” she called over her shoulder, tail dragging behind her.
The screen door banged open. By the time he’d shoved his chair back, she was already hopping down the path toward the enclosures, ears flat, her laughter trailing back to him.
He stood there in the kitchen for a second, breathing hard, glaring at the empty doorway like he was seriously considering wringing her neck.
"I swear..." He groaned, then dragged his hands down his face, feeling the heat, before he moved towards the kettle.
* * *
Chapter Four: A Demure Act
Thirty minutes later the back door squeaked open.
Lira slipped inside wearing her best demure expression. Head slightly bowed, long eyelashes lowered, paws clasped neatly just above her pouch, ears angled back apologetically. Her thick tail was tucked politely behind her.
Jackson was leaning against the kitchen counter, arms folded, looking like a self-contained storm.
“…Hi?” she offered softly.
He didn’t answer right away. The silence stretched.
Lira shifted nervously from one hind foot to the other. “I, um… checked the water trough.”
“Did you.” Jackson’s eyebrow rose. “I checked it yesterday, Lira. It was fine.”
“I thought—” She gave a tiny, uncertain smile. “I, uh…”
“Anything else?”
“…No?…”
Jackson let the quiet do the work, just watching her. Lira wrung her paws, then tilted her head, pulling out every ounce of doe-eyed charm she possessed.
“…Love you?”
He stared at her for a long moment. Then he sighed, long and defeated, rubbing a hand over his face.
“That face should be illegal.”
Lira’s ears perked upright, the innocent act shattering into a bright, mischievous grin. She hopped forward and placed both paws on his shoulders, licking his nose in playful apology.
Jackson shook his head, but the corner of his mouth was twitching. “I won’t forget this…”
* * *
Chapter 5: Changing Circumstances
Their afternoon slipped away easily. After Lira’s so-called emergency water trough inspection, they slipped back into their usual rhythm — shared chores, quiet conversation, and the occasional teasing glance.
By evening they were on the couch, lights low. Jackson lay on his back with Lira sprawled across him, her back to his chest and thick tail resting comfortably between her hind legs. A half-empty bowl of popcorn balanced on her belly, just above her pouch. Some silly comedy played on the TV, but neither of them was really watching anymore. Her ears twitched as she started to doze, body growing heavier and warmer against him.
“Joeys are fed, toileted, and tucked in,” she mumbled sleepily, one paw resting over his arm. “Everyone’s safe tonight.”
Jackson kissed the top of her head. “Yeah. We’re good.”
They eventually dragged themselves to bed, settled and peaceful, the sanctuary quiet around them.
Until 4:17 a.m.
The rescue phone sliced through the dark like a blade. Lira jolted awake instantly, ears shooting upright. Jackson felt her heart spike against him as she grabbed the phone. Her eyes widened while she listened. He watched her expression shift.
It wasn’t her personal cell.
It was the phone.
* * *
Chapter 6: Young Buck
A heavy rainstorm had swept through overnight, thunder still grumbling in the distance as Lira stepped out of her vehicle. Another early morning call out. Another motorist. Another life taken too soon.
She winced as her foot splashed into a cold puddle, soaking through her fur. Pulling her coat collar higher, she trudged through the drizzle and fog toward the blinking hazard lights.
Her heart already ached, but she kept her face steady.
She couldn’t let the tears show.
Not here.
“You the…” The woman’s voice broke into fresh sobs. “I never saw it… it just came out of nowhere…”
Lira placed a gloved paw gently on the woman’s forearm.
“It was an accident,” she said, voice calm and low. “These things happen too often on country roads.”
She turned toward the body lying on the wet grass, steam still rising faintly from it. Crouching down, she lifted one hind leg and clicked on her chest torch.
A buck. Young.
She lowered the leg carefully, rested a paw on the still-warm back for a moment, and closed her eyes.
Lira peeled off her gloves, shoved them into her pocket, and sat down beside the sobbing woman to wait for the tow truck. Rain pattered softly on her coat.
* * *
Chapter 7: Red-Brown Water
An hour later, Lira’s ute crunched slowly up the gravel drive. The rain had eased to a steady drizzle, and the first grey light of dawn was just touching the treetops.
She sat in the driver’s seat for a long moment after killing the engine, paws still gripping the wheel, staring at nothing.
Eventually she climbed out.
Jackson must have heard the car. He was already waiting on the back step, a hot cup of tea steaming beside him. Lira barely registered it. She walked past him without a word, boots heavy on the wooden boards.
The raincoat went on its hook. She washed the mud from her paws and forearms in the laundry sink, water running red-brown for a while. The gloves went straight into the machine. The radio on her belt stayed mercifully silent.
Only when she stepped out onto the back step and sank down did the weight finally settle on her shoulders.
A minute later the screen door creaked. Jackson didn’t say anything. He simply sat beside her on the damp step, close enough that his arm brushed hers.
“Young buck,” she said quietly, eyes fixed on the dark tree line.
He nodded once, then gently laid an arm around her shoulders.
“I’m sorry.”
That was all.
No big speeches. No “you did everything you could.” He’d learned long ago that sometimes those words only made the ache sharper. So he simply leaned his shoulder against hers and let the silence sit between them, warm and steady. The bush dripped and rustled around them. Somewhere in the distance a possum screamed.
Lira let out a slow, shaky breath and leaned into him. Her thick tail curled loosely around his ankle — not playful this time. Just holding on.
They sat like that for a long while.
Eventually Jackson shifted. He slipped an arm around her waist and gently but firmly helped her to her feet.
“Come on,” he said quietly. “Back to bed.”
Lira opened her mouth, then closed it again. She let him guide her inside.
Once she was tucked back under the blankets, Jackson disappeared into the kitchen for a minute. He returned with a warm mug and slid it carefully into her paws.
Lira accepted it gratefully. She wrinkled her muzzle as the familiar sweet scent hit her nose. Her ears flicked in confusion.
“…This is marsupial milk. The… the formula for the juveniles.”
Jackson smiled softly and leaned down to kiss her forehead, right between her ears.
“No arguing,” he murmured. “Just drink it, please?”
Lira stared at the mug for a moment, then let out a shaky little breath and took a small sip. The warm, slightly sweet taste was oddly grounding — familiar in the way only sanctuary routines could be.
Jackson sat on the edge of the bed and brushed his fingers along the edge of one ear, watching her with quiet patience.
* * *
Chapter 8 Title: Thin Ice
Lira stayed in bed for most of the morning. Jackson checked on her a few times, bringing water, then later a proper cup of coffee when she was awake enough to want it. He didn’t hover, but he didn’t leave her alone for long either.
Around ten she finally got up. She moved through the cabin like someone testing thin ice — quiet, careful, still carrying the heaviness. She helped fold laundry, checked on the joeys in their warm pouches, and refilled the water stations for the older greys. She didn’t say much, but she stayed close to Jackson, brushing against him as she passed, letting her tail rest against his leg for a moment here and there.
He never pushed her to talk. He just worked beside her, steady and present.
By early afternoon the worst of the fog had started to lift. The sanctuary was calm. The joeys were content and fed. The sun had come out and was drying the wet leaves. Life was moving forward, as it always did.
Lira sat on the edge of the couch, quiet and withdrawn, a makeshift pouch slung across her front. A tiny orphan joey nursed contentedly from the bottle she held, his little paws kneading gently against her fingers. The warmth of him helped, but the ache from the morning still lingered.
Jackson walked past, pausing to watch them with a soft smile.
“It looks good on you,” he said quietly. “Motherhood, I mean. You have a natural talent. They seem to trust you more than me — maybe it’s your appearance or your scent or something. Anyway, sorry honey, I’ve got to take this call.”
Lira gave a small nod, ears twitching, but didn’t reply. Once the joey had finished and was drowsy, she gently lifted him and carried him outside to the sun-warmed enclosure with the other orphans, tucking him in safely before heading back inside.
* * *
Chapter 9 Title: Under the Desk
She found Jackson in the office nook, now deep in the grant call — calm, professional, putting on the hard sell about their work with the macropods, funding projections, and future enclosure upgrades. His brow was furrowed in concentration.
Lira watched him from the doorway for a long moment. The worst of the morning’s heaviness had finally started to loosen its grip.
She needed him.
Not words. Not more gentle tea or quiet patience.
Just him.
Quietly, she dropped to all fours, powerful hind legs folding as her thick tail swayed low behind her. The wooden floor was cool under her paws as she crawled across the small office, ears tilted back with mischief and lingering vulnerability. Jackson didn’t notice, fully absorbed in the call.
She slipped under the desk like a shadow.
For a minute she simply rested her chin on his lap, eyes closed, breathing in the warm, familiar scent of him. His free hand came down almost automatically, fingers threading gently through the fur between her ears. Comfort. Anchor. Home.
Then the mischief stirred.
A soft, barely audible giggle escaped her as her cold paws slid up his calves, then higher along his thighs. Jackson’s voice hitched mid-sentence. She felt the sudden tension in his leg muscles and smiled against the fabric of his pants.
“Lira—” he breathed, barely audible, one hand tightening in her fur.
She didn’t stop.
The soft purr of his zipper was deafening in the small space. Jackson’s voice cracked sharply on the next sentence.
“—sorry, signal must be— ah — a little unstable out here…”
Lira’s ears flicked in delight as she took him in, warm and slow and deliberate, her tongue curling with practiced affection. She poured everything into it — the leftover ache from the morning, the gratitude for his steady presence, the pure bratty joy of making her unflappable husband unravel while he tried so hard to sound professional.
Under the desk, her tail thumped softly against the floor in rhythm with her movements. Jackson’s hand moved from her ears to the back of her head, fingers flexing, breath growing ragged even as he fought to keep his voice level on the call.
“Yes… of course… we can… reschedule… tomorrow at eleven? Perfect. Thank you.”
The call ended with a click.
Jackson let out a low, strained groan, both hands now cradling her head.
“Lira… I swear, I’ll tie your ears under your chin.”
* * *
Chapter 10: My Turn
Later that night, once the sanctuary had finally settled and the last joeys were fed and tucked away, the day’s heavy residue began to dissolve between them.
Lira found him in the bedroom and pressed herself against his back, arms sliding around his waist. For a while it stayed soft — warm fur, quiet affection, the familiar comfort of each other.
But Jackson had clearly been waiting for this.
He turned, caught her wrists gently, and gave her a look that made her ears flick with sudden awareness.
“You’ve had your fun today,” he said, voice low and amused. “My turn.”
Before she could do more than grin, he produced the velvet-soft ropes they both knew well. Lira’s playful resistance lasted all of three seconds before she let him bind her paws above her head and her powerful ankles together, leaving her deliciously helpless on the bed.
Then he took his time.
Slow, deliberate kisses started at her chin and worked their way down — along her throat, across her chest, lingering with devoted attention around the soft, sensitive edge of her pouch. Lira squirmed, ears flicking wildly, breath turning into giggles that quickly became squeaks and then full, breathless laughter as he found every spot that made her lose control.
By the time he’d reduced her to a panting, writhing, tear-streaked mess — ears plastered back, tail thrashing, body trembling — she was laughing and gasping at the same time.
“I had this coming,” she managed between broken giggles, voice wrecked and delighted. “I deserve it... oh—”
Jackson’s only reply was a low, satisfied hum against her fur as he continued his thorough payback.
What followed was deep, mutual, and intensely intimate — exactly the release they both needed after the weight of the day. When it was over, Lira was thoroughly spent, purring and boneless as Jackson untied her and pulled her into his arms.
She tucked her head under his chin, one paw resting over his heart, tail curled loosely around his leg.
“Love you,” she mumbled, already drifting.
Jackson kissed the top of her head, stroking gently between her ears. “Love you more, trouble.”
They fell asleep tangled together, warm and perfectly at peace.
* * *
Chapter 11: 11AM Stumble
Jackson had been up since well before dawn. By the time the sun was properly up, the morning routine was already rolling — joeys fed, enclosures checked, water troughs topped up, and the older greys moved into their favourite sunning spots.
He was in the middle of making breakfast when Lira finally appeared.
She looked gloriously wrecked.
Fur rumpled, one ear half-perked while the other flopped uselessly to the side, eyes heavy-lidded and unfocused. She leaned in the doorway like she wasn’t entirely convinced the floor was trustworthy, staring at him with a long, silent, half-lidded kangaroo glare that clearly said:
You did things to me. I have not yet decided how I feel about this.
Jackson didn’t look up right away. When he finally did, his expression was calm, thoroughly amused, and entirely unbothered.
He let the silence stretch just long enough for her to really commit to the accusation.
Then he stepped closer, cupped her face gently in both hands, and pressed a soft kiss right between her ears.
“You had plenty of warning, my dear wife,” he said, warm affection clear in his voice. “Sit down before you fall down. I’ve got your breakfast.”
Lira held the glare for a few stubborn seconds longer… then let out a long, defeated breath, ears drooping as she shuffled over and sank into a chair. She rested her chin on her folded arms on the table, watching him with sleepy fondness.
Jackson set a plate in front of her, toast, fruit, and a mug of strong coffee — then leaned down to kiss the top of her head again.
“Eat, love. The world can wait another ten minutes.”
Lira grumbled something that might have been agreement, then reached out with her tail to hook loosely around his ankle as he moved back to the counter.
Outside, the sanctuary kept its steady rhythm. Inside, their little world had quietly reset — back to the warm, teasing, unshakable shape it always found again.
* * *
Chapter 12: A Joey In My Pouch
Another call came just after lunch. Lira dressed quickly, grabbed her bag, gave Jackson a quick kiss on the cheek, and drove off, dust trailing in the ute’s wake.
Another motorist. Another fatality on the roads. Lira’s ears were already flat with dread as she reached the scene.
This time, though, there was something different.
Tucked against the body of the dead doe was a tiny, barely-furred joey — tumbled from her mother’s pouch and desperately clawing at the still form, trying to get back to warmth and safety. Lira crouched and scooped her up. A quick check confirmed it was a doe. Instinctively, she slid the little one under her jacket, letting her own body heat and heartbeat do what it had always done. The joey was cold and shivering, but still alive. Lira’s heart clenched. She worked fast, wrapping her in the jacket and murmuring soft reassurances as she carried her back to the ute.
Halfway home she realised with horror that she’d washed all the makeshift rescue pouches.
“Oh for the love of…”
Instinct took over. She pulled over, opened her jacket and uniform, and gently guided the tiny joey into her own pouch. The little body wriggled, seeking warmth, and settled against her. Lira let out a shaky breath, one paw resting protectively over the bulge, then eased her seat back and continued driving.
When she finally pulled up at the cabin and climbed out, she was waddling.
Jackson stepped onto the back step, took one look at her awkward gait and the obvious bulge under her jacket, and chuckled.
“Lira my love, why didn’t you tell me? I never knew you were with our joey!”
Lira let out a flustered laugh, ears flicking. “Not for the want of trying. Now help me out — she’s heavy.”
Jackson was at her side in seconds, steadying her as they went inside. They slipped seamlessly into treatment mode. He gently covered the joey’s eyes while Lira eased her out of her pouch. Lira held her as Jackson carefully opened the tiny muzzle and slid the latex teat in.
For nearly half an hour the joey fussed and fought — kicking, turning her head away from the unfamiliar scent and taste. It took patience, soft words, and several attempts before she finally began to suckle properly.
Jackson watched, always gentle, carefully steadying the joey’s head. “Hungry little one, aren’t you? You sure it’s a doe?”
Lira sighed and stared at him. “Jackson? I know the difference between a doe and a buck. Yes, she’s a little doe.”
Quiet, anxious coughs came from the joey, tiny paws flailing, little feet twitching.
“Easy, little one,” Jackson murmured, opening her muzzle again and slipping the teat back in. “You’re safe. I promise.”
Once fed and toileted, Lira carefully tucked the joey back into her own pouch for warmth and comfort. She sank down onto the couch with a long sigh, lying on her back. Jackson settled behind her, supporting her neck and back, one hand resting gently over the bulge.
The tiny joey wriggled and tumbled inside, kicking and shifting until exhaustion finally won. The movement stilled.
Lira stared down at her bulging pouch, lips quivering, before she groaned. “She’s settled — for now. How do wild does tolerate this?”
Jackson leaned down and kissed her temple.
“You did good today,” he murmured.
Lira reached up to rest a paw over his. “We both did.”
* * *
Chapter 13: Night Watch
After the initial stabilisation, Lira groaned and flexed her toes. Her feet ached and her tail had gone numb hours ago, but none of that mattered. All that mattered was the young, fragile life tucked safely inside her pouch. The joey was calm now, belly full, breathing steady. Lira breathed out slowly, both paws resting gently over the bulge.
Jackson had been running since before dawn. By nine that evening he was fading fast. He showered, checked the doors, and kissed Lira on the forehead.
“You’ve got her?” he asked quietly.
“I’ve got her,” she replied, ears soft. “Go sleep, love.”
He trusted her. He always did. Within minutes the bedroom door clicked shut and the house fell into deep silence.
Lira did not sleep.
She tried, curling on the couch with one paw resting lightly over her pouch, but her rest was shallow and fractured. Every tiny twitch or soft cry from the joey pulled her straight back to full awareness. Even when her eyes were closed, part of her stayed alert, ears turning toward the smallest sound.
The night settled into its own quiet rhythm.
Every time the joey stirred, Lira rose without hesitation. She warmed a bottle, fed her with patient hands, did a quick gentle toileting, checked her temperature and hydration, then carefully tucked the little one back into her pouch. She’d sink onto the couch again, eyes heavy, only to be pulled awake an hour or two later by another small movement.
Over and over.
There was no panic. Just the steady, instinct-driven work of keeping a fragile life going through the long hours of darkness. Between feeds she lay in the dim lamplight, one paw draped protectively over her pouch, listening to the joey’s breathing and the soft rustle of the bush outside.
Jackson slept deeply in the other room. In the quiet hours Lira found herself envying that unbroken rest — the kind that came from knowing your mate had the night watch.
She kept going.
By the time the first grey light of dawn touched the windows, she was still on the couch, fur rumpled, one ear flopped uselessly while the other twitched at every small sound. Her eyes were unfocused, heavy with exhaustion, but she remained anchored — calm, present, and quietly devoted to the tiny life inside her pouch.
The little joey had finally settled into a deeper sleep, belly round and warm against her.
Lira let out a slow breath and closed her eyes for a moment, feeling both thankful and bone-tired in equal measure.
Outside, the sanctuary was waking up around them. Another day had begun.
* * *
Epilogue: It Can Wait
Jackson stood in the quiet kitchen the next morning, sipping his coffee while early sunlight filtered through the windows. His gaze rested on Lira, sound asleep on the couch at last — deeply exhausted, fur still rumpled from the long night, one ear flopped sideways while the other twitched faintly in her sleep. The tiny joey nestled contentedly in her pouch, finally settled, breathing slow and steady.
He watched the two of them for a long moment, a soft smile tugging at his mouth.
This was the doe he’d fallen head-over-heels for. The one he’d married young. The one who drove him crazy in the best possible ways, and the one who quietly carried so much on her strong shoulders.
He hadn’t told her yet.
The grant call yesterday — the one she’d so thoroughly distracted him during — had come through. Long-term funding. Twenty thousand a year, in perpetuity, earmarked for veterinary care, rehabilitation equipment, and future expansion. The kind of security they’d only dreamed about.
But Lira had enough on her mind right now. And enough in her pouch.
“Rest, my wife,” Jackson whispered. He crouched down beside the couch and pressed a gentle kiss between her ears. “It can wait.”
He rose, took another sip of coffee, and quietly set about the morning chores, letting her sleep as long as she needed.
-FIN-