Hide! The Tiger's Mouth is Open Wide! (6 page)

‘There’s – there’s – no way he could wake up, is there?’ Tom asked.

Mr Nightingale smiled and shook his head. ‘It’s not likely, and we’d get some warning. Chances are he’ll wake up in about three hours, happy and rested.’

However, just at that moment, the truck went over a bump on the path and Ziggy seemed to stir.

Tom and Sophie sprang back against the side of the van.

‘D-Dad . . .’ stammered Tom, ‘you said . . .’

A split second later, the van swerved to the left left and Ziggy appeared to lift up two of his legs.

‘He moved, Dad. He moved!’ Sophie exclaimed.

‘For goodness’ sake, you two,’ Mr Nightingale said. ‘It’s just the movement of the van. He’s fast asleep. Honestly.’

Mr Nightingale put his face next to Ziggy’s. ‘Sleeping like a baby!’ he said.

Sophie smiled and relaxed.

Tom calmed down slightly, but stayed right against the side of the van, one arm on the door handle.

A couple of minutes later they reached the hospital. Mr Nightingale and some vets carried Ziggy carefully in through the door and along the corridor before gently laying him on an operating table.

Mrs Nightingale checked his oxygen supply and the monitor cables.

Tom and Sophie were allowed to stand in the room next door and watch through a glass screen. There was a speaker above them, so they could also hear everything that Dr Sharp, Mrs Nightingale and Violet were saying.

Everyone in the operating room put on a mask and gown, scrubbed their hands and pulled on gloves. Then they turned back to Ziggy.

‘OK, let’s start with a general check-up,’ Dr Sharp said.

He gently tugged on Ziggy’s huge tongue – which stretched as if it was made of rubber. At the same time, Mrs Nightingale carefully held Ziggy’s mouth wide open, so Dr Sharp could see right into the back of the tiger’s mouth.

Dr Sharp tapped and scraped with a long metal tool.

‘A tiger’s back teeth are called carnassials. They’re very strong and very sharp. They’re not round and flat like our molars because tigers don’t really
chew
as such. They just tear meat off and swallow.’

Dr Sharp nodded at Violet. ‘All fine there. Let’s take a closer look at that upper canine.’

He lifted Ziggy’s upper lip.

‘Now, a tiger’s canines are the longest of any cat,’ Dr Sharp continued. ‘Longer than a lion’s, longer than a jaguar’s. They’re about fifteen centimetres, and their roots go right up into the tiger’s skull.’

Violet whispered something to Dr Sharp and he nodded.

‘That’s true, the clouded leopard’s tigers are longer in relation to its body size,’ he said. ‘Good point, Violet.’

He peered underneath Ziggy’s lip and inspected his gums.

‘The thing is though,’ said Dr Sharp, ‘tigers’ teeth aren’t so different to ours. They get plaque like we do. They can need fillings too. And, as in this case, they can also get infections.’

Tom looked at Sophie with a worried expression. An infection sounded bad.

‘The infection has spread into his gum and, if we don’t intervene, it could spread through his whole body and make him very sick indeed,’ Dr Sharp said.

Sophie looked back at Tom, also worried.

‘So at least we know he’s got an infected canine. What’s the plan?’ Mrs Nightingale asked.

‘A pretty basic procedure,’ replied Violet. ‘It’s called root canal work.’

‘Oh, OK,’ Mrs Nightingale said, nodding. ‘You did that to me last year.’

‘What that means,’ said Violet, glancing up at Tom and Sophie through the glass, ‘is that we’ll remove the pulp in the centre of Ziggy’s canine. All mammals – humans included – have pulp tissue down the inside of each of their teeth. It supplies the tooth with nutrients and helps with feeling and sensation. But sometimes this pulp gets infected. Bacteria spreads through the tooth, killing the pulp tissue. So we have to clean the pulp out and replace it. That way, the tooth can survive for another ten years or more.’

Dr Sharp was holding a metal tool with a long needle on the end.

‘Ready, Violet?’ he asked.

Violet nodded.

Dr Sharp started by hollowing out the end of Ziggy’s canine with the needle. Then he took a long thin tube and threaded it up the centre of the tooth. He kept passing it further and further up.

‘When’s he going to get to the end?’ Tom asked.

Sophie shrugged. ‘He said it was a really long tooth.’

Finally Dr Sharp stopped pushing and wiggled the tube around to remove all of the infected pulp.

A few minutes later, Dr Sharp stood aside and Violet moved in, filling the centre of the tooth with a greyish material. Throughout, Ziggy looked peaceful and oblivious, his gigantic tongue lolling out of the side of his mouth and resting on the operating table.

‘OK, let’s put the crown on,’ said Dr Sharp.

‘A crown?’ Tom whispered to Sophie, pointing at his head

‘Not that kind of crown, you dingbat,’ Sophie said. ‘A crown for his tooth.’

Tom looked confused.

‘A crown is an artificial tooth,’ Violet said. ‘We’re going to stick it on to replace the top of Ziggy’s tooth. It will look just like a real one.’

The children watched as the dentist filed down Ziggy’s tooth to make room for the crown. Then Violet squirted dental cement on to the end of Ziggy’s canine. She passed Dr Sharp the crown and he carefully pressed it into place. The crown was made of white plastic and was a very good match. Tom and Sophie couldn’t tell where the tooth ended and the crown began.

‘All done,’ Dr Sharp said.

‘You can take him back home now,’ added Violet.

Tom and Sophie met Dr Sharp and Violet in the corridor outside the operating theatre.

‘Will Ziggy’s mouth be sore?’ Sophie asked.

‘For a little bit,’ Dr Sharp said, ‘but he’ll be back on the steak by tomorrow.’

‘Do you want to come and celebrate with us?’ Tom asked. ‘Before we spotted that Ziggy was sick, we were actually on our way to have hot chocolate and squirty cream.’

‘Hot chocolate is full of sugar,’ Dr Sharp exclaimed, ‘and sugar rots your teeth!’

‘Oh, yeah, I suppose . . .’ Tom admitted.

‘However,’ said the dentist went on, ‘it’s not every day you have a tiger for a patient. So let’s all have hot chocolate
and
some cake too!’

‘Hot chocolate and cake!’ exclaimed Violet.

Tom and Sophie grinned.

Chapter 6

Over the next few days, Tom and Sophie kept a close eye on Ziggy. They visited him every day after school. Tom took lots of photographs and Sophie drew sketches and made notes.

‘He’s completely back to normal, isn’t he?’ Tom said on the third afternoon, as they watched Ziggy gnawing on a gigantic bone.

‘He seems to be,’ said Sophie.

‘It’s funny what Dr Sharp said about tigers not chewing their food,’ said Tom. ‘I read on the internet that tigers can’t even move their jaws from side to side. Just up and down. They bite and then they swallow.’

They watched Ziggy nibbling and tearing tiny bits of meat off the tip of the bone with his front teeth.

‘Ah, hello, you two,’ said a voice behind them.

They turned around and saw their grandad leaning on his walking stick.

‘I thought I’d find you here,’ he said.

‘Everything OK, Grandad?’ Sophie asked.

‘Funny you should ask,’ he replied, ‘because I think I might need your help.’

Both Tom and Sophie turned to face him.

‘I’ve heard a rumour that you know rather a lot about teeth,’ said Grandad.

Sophie blushed and said, ‘Sort of.’

Tom said, ‘We know absolutely everything! We saved that tiger’s life!’

‘Glad to hear it,’ said Grandad. ‘The thing is, we’ve been having a few problems over at the allotment. Probably better if I just show you, eh? That is, if you’re not busy here.’

‘No, we’ve fixed most of the zoo animals,’ Tom said, ‘We’re so good, we’ve run out of patients.’

‘Tom, that’s not completely true,’ said Sophie.

‘I bet it is true!’ Grandad exclaimed. ‘Knowing you two! Come on, let me show you the crime scene.’

Grandad, Tom and Sophie went around behind the zoo cafe, through the staff turnstile and out into Regent’s Park. Grandad had previously been Chief Vet at London Zoo and he was still allowed to use the staff exits and short cuts.

‘Now, as you probably know,’ Grandad said as they walked, ‘I work in the Regents’ Park allotments a couple of evenings a week. We grow all kinds of things: flowers, herbs, vegetables, fruit bushes. It’s a gardener’s paradise in there. But last night we had a break-in.’

Grandad led Tom and Sophie towards the allotment and opened a small brown gate. He showed them a row of half-eaten cabbages and what had been a row of broccoli. Everywhere there were small holes, disturbed soil and mangled plants.

Then he led them into the shed at the end of the allotment and showed them the remains of a ham sandwich on the floor.

‘I was saving that sandwich for my supper,’ Grandad said, ‘but when I woke up, this was all that was left of it.’

‘You mean, you were in here?’ Tom asked.

‘Ah, er, yes,’ Grandad stammered, ‘just having a nap. I’d been hard at work, you see! So anyway, it happened at about eight o’clock at night. Whatever it was must be a nocturnal animal. Let me show you how he got in.’

They went back outside and he took Tom and Sophie round behind the shed.

The panel at the back had a small hole at the bottom, with claw marks at the edges. A section of the fence had also been nibbled away by very strong teeth.

‘Look at these bite marks here,’ said Grandad, pulling up the loose board at the bottom of the fence and showing Tom and Sophie the other side. A ring of teeth marks could clearly be seen in the wood.