I’m so blue I can’t even finish my pizza.
When I ask to be excused, my parents look puzzled but give me permission. I drag myself down the hall and flop face-first on my bed.
Two minutes later Jules pounds on my door.
“Get up! Sunita called—we have to go to the clinic right away. It’s an emergency!”
Chapter Ten
As we jog down Main Street, Jules fills me in.
“It’s Ranger,” she says.
“Another porcupine?” I ask, horrified.
“I don’t think so, but Sunita said it’s life-threatening. Mr. Fedor is bringing him to the clinic right now. Dr. Gabe just got off the turnpike.”
“What about David or Brenna? They should be there; they’ve seen way more of this stuff than we have.”
“Sunita didn’t say, she just told us to hurry.”
When we arrive, Sunita is unlocking the clinic’s front door, and Mr. Fedor is struggling to lift Ranger—his eighty-pound mutt—out of the backseat of his car.
“Mr. Fedor,” Jules starts.
“We can help you,” I finish.
With the door now wide open, Sunita runs back to lend a hand. We each grab an edge of Ranger’s blanket and together we all carry the big dog inside.
“He didn’t eat much yesterday,” Mr. Fedor says. “I thought his mouth was sore from the porcupine quills. He wouldn’t eat this morning and slept most of the day, but that made sense to me because of the painkillers.” He pauses as we maneuver through the door and into the clinic’s waiting room.
“Dolittle Room,” Sunita says quietly.
Mr. Fedor continues his story as we make our way down the hall. “Then this afternoon he vomited and had diarrhea. Now he can’t even walk.”
We make our way into the examination room.
“On three, ready?” Sunita asks. “One, two . . . three.”
We lift the dog onto the stainless steel table. Ranger whimpers, and Mr. Fedor’s eyes fill with tears. Jules shoots me a look over the dog’s stretched-out body. Ranger is panting, but he’s lying totally still. Not a good sign.
Sunita disappears for an instant and returns with Ranger’s file, a clipboard, and a pen. She’s the cat expert of the Vet Volunteers, but she can deal with pretty much anything.
“Dr. Gabe should be here any second,” she says to Mr. Fedor. “If you can answer a few questions for me, he’ll be able to take care of Ranger even faster when he gets here. When was the last time he drank anything?”
Mr. Fedor frowns and keeps stroking Ranger’s silky head. “He’s had water a couple times today. The last time must have been a little after two, when I came in from mowing the lawn.”
Sunita makes a note. “When was the last time he ate?”
“Yesterday, just before dinner, maybe four thirty,” he says. “I soaked his dog food in water and a little beef broth.”
“Nothing at all since then?” Sunita asks. “No treats? No leftovers?”
He looks up. “Do leashes count?”
“Excuse me?” Sunita asks.
“I don’t know when he did it.” Mr. Fedor pulls a well-chewed strand of leather out of his pocket. “Could have been last week for all I know, but I found this under the kitchen table this afternoon. It’s missing at least a foot, plus the metal chain.”
Somehow Sunita keeps her feelings off her face. “The more information we have the better,” she says.
“You don’t think it’s inside him, do you?” Jules asks.
“Dr. Mac has told a lot of stories about the strange things that pets eat,” Sunita says. “Sometimes it passes right through them, and sometimes it requires surgery. My cat Mittens ate some yarn once, and Dr. Mac had to operate to remove it. But don’t worry,” she quickly adds, “Mittens came through the surgery and was her old self in days.”
The bell on the front door jingles, and an instant later, Dr. Gabe rushes into the room. “Hello, hello,” he says pleasantly. “I see our good friend Ranger is back for a return engagement.”
He quickly takes Ranger’s vital signs—his temperature, pulse, and rate of breathing. Sunita writes all the numbers down and repeats Mr. Fedor’s information as Dr. Gabe feels Ranger’s belly and checks his gums. Ranger whimpers but is so lethargic he doesn’t struggle or squirm.
“Is he going to be okay?” Mr. Fedor asks anxiously.
Dr. Gabe steps over to the sink, rolls up his sleeves, and starts scrubbing his hands with antiseptic soap and a brush. “He’s a little dehydrated, and he’s in shock. First thing is to get some fluids into him; then I’ll X-ray his stomach and digestive tract. That should show us what we’re dealing with. Jules, will you please take Mr. Fedor into the waiting room?”
“I’d rather stay with Ranger,” Mr. Fedor says. “I can help keep him calm.”
“I know you can,” Dr. Gabe says kindly. “It’s obvious how much you two love each other. But there’s a small chance I might need to operate quickly. The best thing you can do for Ranger is to hold him in your heart and wait for him out there.”
He glances at Jules, and she springs into action.
“Come on, Mr. Fedor.” She lightly touches his elbow. “I’ll show you the most comfortable chair. Can I make you some tea?”
Mr. Fedor looks forlornly at Ranger. “Bye, buddy,” he says as he leans in to kiss the dog’s head. “I’ll see you soon.”
Ranger’s tail thumps weakly on the table. Mr. Fedor sniffs loudly and follows my sister out the door.
“Sunita, I need an IV bag.” Dr. Gabe is already shaving a patch of fur off Ranger’s foreleg. “Do you want to stay for this, Josh?”
I nod before I think too much about what he’s saying.
Dr. Gabe rubs antiseptic on the shaved patch of leg. “Scrub up.”
Sunita joins me at the sink after she hands Dr. Gabe the IV solution, both of us watching him over our shoulders as we scrub our hands with stiff brushes. He inserts a needle into Ranger’s leg and gets the IV fluid flowing before I remember that needles make me queasy. There’s no time for that today.
“This will hydrate Ranger and, I hope, stabilize him a bit,” Dr. Gabe explains. He unlocks a cabinet and fills two syringes from bottles inside it, then injects the fluid in the syringes into the IV line. “This first one is a sedative and the other is an antibiotic, because this big guy is fighting one heck of an infection.”
He flicks the brakes off the wheels of the exam table with the toe of his shoe. “I’m going to run him down for X-rays. You two stay here until I call.”
“Are you sure you don’t need help holding him down?” Sunita inquires.
Dr. Gabe looks grim. “No, he’s just lost consciousness, so I can handle it on my own.”
He’s halfway down the hall before I can speak.
“Does he always move that fast?” I ask.
“Only in emergencies,” Sunita says with a serious face.
“What happens next?”
“It depends on what the X-ray shows. If Ranger really ate that leash, Dr. Gabe will have to open him up to get it out of there.”
My stomach flops. “Surgery?”
“It’s the only way in a case like this.”
“I’m not really a Vet Volunteer, you know. I don’t know what to do.”
“It’s okay, Josh,” Sunita says with a kind smile. “Dr. Gabe’s the one who went to four years of college and six years of vet school. I’m allowed to hand him instruments, but that’s because I’ve seen a lot of this, plus my parents are doctors. If you want to watch because you’re interested, you can. If you don’t want to watch, you don’t have to. No pressure either way.”
The intercom crackles. “You guys want to see these films?” Dr. Gabe asks.
In just a few minutes, Dr. Gabe has the X-rays mounted on a light board. It’s easy to see the out
lines of Ranger’s spine, ribs, and hips. Dr. Gabe points to the glowing white links of the metal collar he swallowed and the dark, snakelike shadow that is the leash.
“Isn’t it a little weird for a dog to eat something like that?” I ask.
“Not at all. I know vets who have removed dentures, spoons, toy dinosaurs . . . you name it, some dog somewhere has swallowed it.” He flicks on the overhead lights. “The good news is that Ranger is young and strong. It doesn’t look as if the leash and chain damaged his esophagus or stomach, and Mr. Fedor brought him here before the leash moved on too far. The bad news is that I have to remove the leash before it causes more damage. Something like this can absolutely kill a dog.”
We follow him as he wheels Ranger to the operating room. “I assume you’ll lend a hand, Sunita,” Dr. Gabe says. “Do you want to watch, Josh?”
I’ve seen Dr. Mac and Dr. Gabe examine lots of pets in the past couple of months. I’ve even watched them stitch up a few. And of course I’ve helped take care of loads of animals postsurgery. But I’ve never actually seen surgery itself. To be honest, I’m not sure that I want to, but my mouth opens up and somehow I say, “Sure. That would be great.”
Everything happens very, very fast.
We put on shoe coverings and surgical scrubs over our clothes, then we scrub our hands again and put on latex gloves and face masks, all to reduce the chance of exposing Ranger to germs. Dr. Gabe gets a surgical tray and a sterilized surgical kit ready.
“Will you be using an endoscope?” Sunita asks.
“What’s that?” I ask.
“It’s a thin tube with a camera on the end,” Dr. Gabe explains. “It’s inserted into the patient’s mouth and down the esophagus so we can see whatever the animal swallowed and remove it. But what Ranger has in his belly is too big to be removed with an endoscope. Surgery is his best bet.”
Dr. Gabe asks me to move a light so he can see better, then he intubates Ranger by inserting a tube down his esophagus. Sunita helps by holding Ranger’s mouth open. “Ranger will get oxygen and anesthesia through this tube,” Dr. Gabe says. “And now I’ll connect this plastic clip to his tongue. See? It has a light sensor to monitor his oxygen and blood. These other small clips connect to the pulse oximeter. That’s a monitoring machine we use to track his pulse rate.” Dr. Gabe checks the readings that are shown on the screen next to the operating table, then he shaves Ranger’s belly and applies a sterile cloth with a portion cut out where he intends to operate. I move around a couple of times, trying to find a place to stand where I won’t be in the way but where I have a clear view of what’s going on. It’s hard to believe that an hour ago I was sitting at our kitchen table eating a slice of double-pepperoni, double-cheese pizza.
Sunita hands the doctor a bottle of antiseptic that he uses to clean and sterilize the bare skin of Ranger’s abdomen. Then he picks up a scalpel, a knife with a shiny blade that flashes in the bright overhead light, and it suddenly hits me what I’m about to see.
My stomach flops and flops again. I break out in a cold sweat, and my ears start ringing. I get a funny taste in my mouth, and it feels like the floor is moving a little.
Dr. Gabe looks at me over the top of his mask. “Josh? You feel okay?”
“Uh-oh.” Sunita grabs my arm. “You don’t look so good.”
“I don’t feel too good, either,” I admit.
“No worries,” Dr. Gabe says. “Happens to everyone. But Dr. Mac has a rule—no puking in the operating room. Ever. You cool with that?”
I try to nod, but it makes me feel dizzier.
“Take him out, Sunita. Get his head low and feet high.”
Sunita puts her arm around me and helps me to the door.
“Sorry,” I croak.
“Don’t worry about it, Josh,” Dr. Gabe says. “We’ll talk later.”
Chapter Eleven
I stumble out the door and let Sunita guide me to the bathroom, but I won’t let her take me in.
“No,” I say firmly. “I’m just a little queasy. I can manage the bathroom on my own.”
“But what if you pass out?” she asks. “What if your blood pressure goes so low you forget to breathe? What if you hit your head on the corner of the sink and it gives you amnesia and you wake up not even knowing your own name? Or you could get retrograde amnesia, though I’m not sure what that means, exactly.”
“I’m fine,” I say, trying to cover my embarrassment. “But you could get me something to drink, if you want.”
“Good idea. There’s always juice in Dr. Mac’s fridge. Orange, apple, carrot, mango? She probably has chocolate milk, too. Did you eat dinner? Low blood sugar can bring on fainting episodes and nausea, too. Maybe you should have a snack that combines proteins and carbs, like cheese and an apple. Does that sound good?”
Sunita is usually the quietest Vet Volunteer, so I’m confused by all this chattering until her strategy dawns on me.
“I get it,” I say with a smile. “You’re just trying to distract me, aren’t you? That’s the reason for all this gobbledygook about amnesia and cheese.”
She smiles, too. “You figured out my plan.”
Along with being the quietest Vet Volunteer, I think she’s the prettiest, which is another reason I want to die of embarrassment about what just happened in the operating room.
“And it wasn’t gobbledygook,” she insists. “Based on the fact that you don’t look pale and clammy anymore, I’d say I achieved my goal.”
Pale and clammy? Great.
“Well, thanks,” I say. “But I need some time alone in here, if you know what I mean.”
“Oh,” she blushes. “Right. Sure. I’ll put your snack in the waiting room.”
“No, don’t,” I say. “You should be helping in the operating room. If I don’t faint, hit my head, and forget my name, I’ll ask Jules to get me some milk.”
“Okay,” she says.
“Okay,” I say. “Bye.” I close the door and lean my forehead against it. Pale and clammy? As if this day couldn’t get any worse.
I splash cold water on my face and wash my hands. Embarrassing myself in front of Sunita and Dr. Gabe was bad enough, but what if it means that I don’t have what it takes to be a vet? Veterinarians have to be tough. They have to perform under pressure. They can’t get woozy and throw up at the sight of blood, and especially not before the sight of blood.
I stare at my reflection in the mirror. “Sometimes you can be a real idiot.”
• • • • •
I slump down next to my sister in the waiting room, lean forward, and put my head in my hands.
“What happened?” Jules asks. “Is Ranger okay? You look terrible.”
“Ranger’s on the operating table,” I say. “Sunita’s helping Dr. Gabe. I hate myself, and I’m never going to be a vet.”
“What? What do you mean? Sit up, you’re not making any sense.”
I sit up, lean my head against the wall, and tell her what happened.
“Dr. Mac doesn’t allow anyone to puke in the operating room,” Jules says seriously.
“I know! You’re not making me feel any better.”
“Stop it.” She gives me a friendly shove. “Everybody feels like that the first time. I had a long talk with Dr. Mac about it a few days after she stitched up Cuddles.”
“Really?”
She nods. “She said I shouldn’t be embarrassed: medical things can be intense, and it takes time to get used to them. When do you think Ranger will be out of the OR?”
“No idea,” I say. “Where’s Mr. Fedor?”
“He’s pacing up and down the driveway, talking to his son in Florida. Did you know that he’s a retired dairy farmer? He’s the sweetest old guy, ever.”
“A farmer?” I sit up straight. “Does he still have pasture land? Do you think he’d adopt two ponies?
They’d be great companions for Ranger.”
“He sold the farm when his wife got sick,” Jules says. “It sounds like Ranger is all he really has left.”
The door opens, but instead of Mr. Fedor, it’s Brenna who walks in. “David texted me that you guys were here,” she says. “Is it Ranger?”
My sister brings her up to date on the mutt’s latest adventure, tactfully leaving out the part where I was ejected from the operating room.
“No wonder Mr. Fedor looks so sad,” she says.
“Did David tell you about Buster’s bad leg?” I ask.
“No.” She sits cross-legged on the chair across from us and listens as I explain everything we did for Buster and how Gus reacted.
“Are you kidding me?” Brenna throws her hands in the air. “Why didn’t you call me?”
“What could you have done? Dr. Gabe said that he couldn’t treat an animal without the owner’s permission.”
“But if Buster doesn’t get treated, that’s abuse,” Brenna says.
“But that hasn’t exactly happened yet,” Jules points out.
“If Buster is worse tomorrow and Gus still won’t let a vet treat him, we could call Animal Control, right?” I ask.
“Absolutely.” Brenna’s nose scrunches up. “But Mr. Snyder, the local guy, is on a fishing trip with my dad. They went way into the mountains, out of cell-phone range.”
“Wouldn’t he have a backup, the way that Dr. Gabe is covering for Dr. Mac this weekend?”
“The state doesn’t have enough money for that,” Brenna says. “We’ll have to wait for Mr. Snyder to come back.”
“I’m tired of waiting,” I say angrily. “I want to help Buster right now. Tonight.”
“Okay, let’s get positive and practical,” Jules says. “If Mr. Snyder gets back in time and says that Gus isn’t taking good care of Buster, what would happen?”