Hide! The Tiger's Mouth is Open Wide! (4 page)

‘Wow, look at Liz,’ said Tom. ‘That book was right –
all
her teeth are sharp, even the ones at the back.’

‘Look at how big her canines are,’ Sophie said. ‘They must be seven centimetres at least. I remember reading that a tiger’s canines are really sensitive to pressure. That lets them work out exactly where to bite a deer’s neck.’

Tom shuddered. ‘Or a
person’
s neck,’ he said.

‘Tigers don’t eat people,’ said Sophie, rolling her eyes. ‘I mean they
rarely
eat people.’

At that moment Tom spotted a pigeon strutting up and down beside the tigers’ pool. ‘Look, Soph,’ he said, ‘how did that get inside? It wasn’t there a minute ago.’

‘It must have squeezed in through the top of the enclosure somehow,’ said Sophie, looking up.

‘It’s dead meat,’ said Tom.

The male tiger had emerged from a cluster of shrubs, sniffing the air.

‘Looks like Ziggy has woken up,’ said Sophie.

‘Yes, for his breakfast,’ said Tom.

The pigeon was bending forward and pecking at the surface of the pool.

The male tiger crouched down, lowering its body so its belly was nearly touching the ground. Then it took one step forward, moving slowly towards the bird.

‘Wow, he moves just like Mindy and Max,’ said Tom.

‘I really don’t want to see this,’ said Sophie, putting her hands in front of her eyes but then peeking out.

Ziggy was staring fixedly at the pigeon. His feet made no sound as he moved across the stone floor of the enclosure.

The pigeon was strutting backwards and forwards again.

The tiger’s steps were faster now, but still silent.

Tom and Sophie were on the verge of calling out. Shouldn’t they warn the pigeon? Or should they not interfere?

At that instant, the tiger sprinted and pounced.

Miraculously, the pigeon flew up and away, finally perching in a distant corner of the enclosure.

Sophie was relieved. Tom was disappointed.

‘I never get to see
anything
cool,’ he huffed.

Mr Nightingale appeared behind them.

‘What are you moaning about now, Tom?’ he asked.

They explained what had just happened and pointed out the pigeon.

‘Ah, I see,’ said Mr Nightingale. ‘I’d better try to get it out, I suppose.’

‘Did you see him flash his teeth as he pounced?’ Sophie said to Tom.

‘Yeah,’ said Tom, his eyes wide.

‘Any . . . dental problems or issues?’ she asked, looking down at her map and holding up her pen.

‘Er, ah, I don’t think so,’ said Tom. ‘I was kind of looking at the pigeon.’

‘So you two are dentists now?’ Mr Nightingale said with a smile. ‘Well, don’t you worry about Ziggy the Tiger. His teeth are one hundred and ten per cent healthy.’

Sophie put a red circle around the tigers’ enclosure on her map and said, ‘All done!’

Chapter 4

Over the next six Saturdays, Tom and Sophie took photos, kept journals and drew sketches. They assembled a huge number of pictures and descriptions of animals’ teeth.

They hadn’t thought much about teeth before; now they realised that, for most animals, teeth were a matter of life and death. They could be used for so many things – for chewing food, for defending yourself, for building your home, for carrying your young, for attracting a mate, for digging, for climbing, for lifting . . .

If your teeth weren’t strong and healthy, then you wouldn’t last long.

For the first couple of weeks, Tom and Sophie had nothing to report. The zoo animals were eating well and nobody’s teeth were loose or wonky or a funny colour.

However, on the fourth Saturday, the Tooth Sleuths took on their first case. They were in Nightzone, visiting the bats. Bats were still among Tom and Sophie’s favourite animals – ever since they had helped to rescue a baby bat a few months before.

This time now a different nocturnal animal caught their attention – Sammy the rat.

They were pressing their noses up against the rats’ enclosure, watching them scampering along the branches and scuttling through the woodchips.

Tom was muttering to himself.

‘What have you spotted, young assistant?’ Sophie asked.

Tom replied, ‘Hang on – I’m the dentist,
you’re
the assistant.’

‘No, that was last week,’ Sophie said. ‘This week
I’m
the dentist.’

Tom sighed and said, ‘OK,
doctor
, I noticed that Sammy’s chew toy is stuck under a rock. So he’s got nothing to gnaw on and that could cause him tooth problems.’

‘So that’s why he didn’t rush to get his food when the keepers put it out,’ Sophie said. ‘His teeth are probably overgrowing. Remember that rodents’ teeth grow constantly.’

‘Er, sort of,’ said Tom.

‘Rats’ teeth grow their whole life,’ Sophie continued. ‘They never stop. In a year, their incisors – that’s their front teeth – can grow up to twelve centimetres. That’s longer than your fingers. Every year!’

‘A sabre-toothed rat! Cool!’ said Tom.

‘No, no, that’d never happen,’ said Sophie. ‘For a start, they grind their teeth constantly. To file them down. That’s why they get branches and wood blocks and chew toys. But that’s not the main reason you never get a sabre-toothed rat.’

‘What is then?’ Tom asked.

‘Well, it’s a bit sad but . . .’ Sophie said.

Tom looked worried. ‘How sad?’

‘A rat’s teeth curl backwards if they grow too much,’ Sophie said, ‘so they only need to grow an extra half a centimetre before the rat finds it hard to eat. The rat will die long before its teeth start sticking out of its mouth.’

Sophie had drawn a sketch on her pad of a rat’s teeth curling backwards.

‘So you think that could happen to Sammy?’ Tom said. ‘He’s lost his favourite chew toy so his teeth are starting to grow backwards and he can’t eat?’

‘I’m sure of it,’ said Sophie, tapping her picture.

‘We’ve got a serious crisis on our hands!’ declared Tom.

‘We have to remain calm,’ said Sophie. ‘Remember, Dr Sharp always remains calm. Even when he’s got his arm in a hippo’s mouth.’

‘But Sammy could drop dead any minute!’ exclaimed Tom. ‘Imagine your teeth being a metre long and growing down your throat!’

‘I read in a book that it’s quite easy to trim a rat’s teeth,’ said Sophie. ‘We just have to find a zookeeper.’

They spotted Terry the Nightzone keeper in the Malagasy jumping rat enclosure, scattering food on the ground. They waved at him and beckoned him over.

‘Hello, you two. What’s up?’ Terry asked, when he’d clambered out of the enclosure and emerged from a door marked ‘ZOOKEEPERS ONLY’.

Sophie quickly explained that they were trainee dentists and that Sammy was in trouble.

Tom added that Sammy’s teeth could grow down his throat and out of his back, sticking out like spears, and they might even stab other rats nearby, killing them too.

‘Really? Sounds serious,’ said Terry with a smile. ‘Well, I did notice that Sammy was off his food yesterday. I was going to leave it one more day, then call on your mum. But I think you’re right – it’s his teeth. Let’s take a closer look.’

Tom and Sophie followed Terry through the door reserved for zoo staff and were soon standing behind the rats’ enclosure. Terry opened a small wooden panel and reached inside. After a bit of rummaging, he pulled out Sammy.

‘Who wants to hold him?’ Terry asked.

‘Me!’ Tom and Sophie both exclaimed.

‘I should have known,’ Terry said. ‘OK, you can both have a go. To decide who goes first, answer me this. Roughly how many rats are there in the UK?’

‘A million,’ said Sophie.

‘Ten million,’ said Tom.

‘Tom’s closest,’ said Terry. ‘It’s actually eighty million. There are more rats than human beings. So he goes first.’

Tom was so excited, he fumbled and nearly dropped Sammy.

‘This is precisely why I should have gone first,’ said Sophie.