Storm Rescue (3 page)

“That explains why Lucy was acting so weird today,” I say. When Bill stares at me blankly, I add, “Mrs. Clark's cat. And she was grooming herself a lot, too.”

Bill nods. “It's not just cats and dogs who react to the weather,” he says. “Falling or changing air pressure can cause deer and other animals to come down from the mountains and look for shelter. Swallows fly lower. Cows lie down a lot more. Even mosquitoes and other flying insects get more active and stay closer to the ground.”

I nod my head thoughtfully. What Bill is saying makes me think of something I learned in school last year. “My science teacher taught us how to count a cricket's chirps to tell how hot it is. You count the number of chirps in fourteen seconds, then add forty to that number to get the temperature.”

“That's right.” Bill grins. “It's actually pretty accurate most of the time. So you see, it's not just poor Stormy who reacts to weather changes. All sorts of animals, birds, and insects do. People, too.” He glances at the exam-room door. “Stormy has always reacted strongly to that sort of thing. And this is the worst storm we've been through since we've had him. He's pretty stressed out.”

Just then the door to the exam room opens, and Dr. Mac pokes her head out. “Oh, good, Sunita,” she says when she sees me. “You're still here. I need your help.

I gulp and stand up. “What do you need me to do?” I ask Dr. Mac, trying to sound professional and not at all nervous as I head toward her.

Dr. Mac is scribbling something on a small pad of paper. She doesn't answer for a second. Then she finishes her writing and rips off the sheet. “Here,” she says, handing it to me. “Could you please go back to the supply closet and find a bottle of these tranquilizers? I think they're on the second shelf to the right.”

I stare at the piece of paper in my hand. Dr. Mac doesn't need my help with Stormy. She just wants me to run and fetch some medicine. “Of course,” I say, relieved. “I'll be right back.”

As I hurry out of the room, I can't help smiling a little about Stormy's problem. It seems funny that a meteorologist's dog named Stormy hates storms so much. It's also kind of weird to think about a huge dog like that being afraid of anything.

When I get back from the supply closet, the Jermaines are out in the reception area. Stormy is lying on the cool floor near the desk.

I hand the tranquilizer bottle to Dr. Mac. “Here,” I say. “Will Stormy be all right?”

“Absolutely.” Dr. Mac bends over to pat the big dog. “I gave him a dose in the exam room, and he's calmer already, as you can see. Most dogs with this kind of anxiety don't need any medication, but Stormy is an extreme case. It's safer to tranquilize a dog than to let him drive himself crazy with anxiety and possibly injure himself.”

Bill glances at his watch. “Well, we'd better get going,” he says. “We've got our work cut out for us these next couple of days.”

Dr. Mac nods. “Drive carefully,” she says, and gives the Jermaines some last-minute instructions about the tranquilizers. When she opens the door for them, a sheet of rain sweeps in, splashing onto the floor halfway across the room. A crack of thunder booms suddenly, making everyone jump.

“Wow.” David whistles. “I guess the picnic is over.”

Sure enough, when we head outside, most of the guests have already gone. The remaining ones are hurrying toward their cars, holding jackets and newspapers and anything else they can find over their heads. Maggie, Zoe, and Brenna are rushing around trying to get everything out of the rain.

“Look on the bright side, though,” David adds. “At least we're not broiling anymore.”

He's right. I realize the air has turned a little chilly. A shiver runs down my arms.

Dr. Mac sighs. “Come on,” she says. “Let's go help the girls clean up before this whole place floats away.”

An hour later, Zoe pulls up the shade on the waiting-room window. “It's raining really, really hard now,” she reports.

“That's what you've been saying for the past half hour,” Maggie snaps.

Zoe wrinkles her nose. “No, I haven't,” she retorts. “The last few times I said it was raining really hard. Now it's raining really,
really
hard.”

“Whatever,” Maggie mutters. “You still sound like a broken record.” Even though Maggie and Zoe are cousins, they don't always get along too well. Actually, they're practically opposites. Ever since Zoe moved to Ambler from New York City, Maggie has been getting on her case about how she loves to shop and do other girlie stuff. Zoe likes to tease Maggie about her sloppy clothes and the way she's so into sports. Besides that, the triple-H weather seems to be making everyone a little crabby.

A gust of wind rattles the windows, and I look up from the patient files I'm updating. “I wonder how close Hurricane Felix is by now,” I say.

Any possible response is drowned out by a loud howl from the direction of Dr. Mac's house, which is attached to the clinic. David winces and looks up from sweeping the floor under the guest chairs. “Poor Sherlock,” he says. “He sounds like he's being tortured.”

Sherlock has been whining and howling off and on for the past hour. Every time there's a clap of thunder or an especially violent gust of wind, he starts up again. Even though he's in the house, on the other side of the wall from the clinic, the noise is giving me a headache. Basset hounds can be loud—and I mean loud. Besides, each time he howls, most of the dogs back in the kennel area join in with their own barking and wailing.

“Sherlock sure will be glad when this storm is over,” Maggie says.

“So will Stormy,” David adds.

So will I.

Brenna is looking out the window now. “Wow,” she says. “There's like a little river running through the front yard.”

“Cool. If we get flooded in, I can paddle us out. I was canoe champion at day camp last year,” David brags.

Maggie rolls her eyes. “Oh, please,” she says. “I could beat you with one paddle tied behind my back.”

“Yeah, right.” David lets out a loud, sarcastic snort. “You wish!”

I sigh. Maggie and David are always arguing about stuff like that. Usually it's kind of funny—like the time they had an arm-wrestling contest, and both of them refused to give in until Brenna and Zoe and I started tickling them. But today I'm not in the mood to listen to them bicker.

“Has anyone fed the boarders yet?” I ask, glancing at my watch. “Dr. Mac wanted us to get that done before four o'clock.”

“Nope,” Brenna replies. “Not me.”

The others shake their heads. I glance at the files in my lap. “Well?” I say. “Is anyone going to do it?”

“I thought you were volunteering, Sunita,” Zoe says. She's sitting in one of the visitors' chairs picking aqua nail polish off her big toe. Sneakers, her mutt, is obediently sitting beside her. He's a great dog now that he's housebroken.

I glare at her. “I'm busy right now,” I snap.

Zoe rolls her eyes. “If you want me to do it, just say so,” she says. “Come on, Brenna. Want to help me?”

I frown as the two of them leave the room. For a few minutes, it's silent in the reception area. Maggie is bent over her work, and even David doesn't seem to feel like talking for a change. Sherlock stops howling—for a moment, at least. I sigh.

Suddenly the front door bursts open, letting in another squall of wind and rain. I'm startled to see Mrs. Clark rushing in. She has a towel-wrapped bundle in her arms.

“Help!” she cries. “Lucy's hurt!”

Chapter Four

L
ucy looks awful. Her fur is matted from the rain. Her eyes are huge and scared. The lower part of her left front leg is swollen right above her paw. Her mouth is open slightly, and she's panting sort of like a dog. That means she's in shock from the pain. She lets out a pitiful meow and tries to lift her head.

Dr. Mac hurries out of her office. “What happened?” she asks as she carefully takes Lucy from Mrs. Clark.

“Lucy and I had just arrived home,” Mrs. Clark responds breathlessly, water dripping down her face from her wet hair. “We had stopped off to visit a friend on our way back from the picnic, and the wind and rain were awful by then, so I decided to carry her instead of letting her walk.”

Dr. Mac nods. I figure she's probably thinking that Mrs. Clark should have used the cat carrier she offered her, but she doesn't say so.

“We were almost to the front door when there was a big clap of thunder,” Mrs. Clark goes on. “Lucy and I were both startled. She jumped out of my arms in a panic, and she hit the door pretty hard.”

I wince. Poor Lucy! But there's no time to think about that. Dr. Mac is already heading for the Herriot Room.

This time I follow her.

“Maggie, we need to anesthetize and X-ray. David, why don't you get out the splinting equipment in case there is a fracture. Sunita, come over here and stand by Lucy. Watch her carefully for any signs of distress.”

I nod and move quickly into place. “It's okay, sweetie,” I croon to Lucy as soothingly as I can. I wish I could pet her to let her know everything will be okay, but I know I shouldn't. “Just stay still now. We know it hurts, but we're here to help.”

Meanwhile Dr. Mac examines Lucy, checking her vital signs gently but quickly. She looks at the cat's gums. I see a flash of pale pink.

“She's in mild shock—not too bad,” Dr. Mac says. “We'd better get a little oxygen into her and start her on some IV fluids. Then we'll give her an anesthetic so I can take a closer look at her leg.”

Dr. Mac puts an oxygen mask over Lucy's face. I hold it there while she inserts the IV catheter and starts the fluids. Then she moves away to help Maggie prepare the anesthetic.

“Hang in there, Lucy,” I murmur, trying to look into the cat's eyes. I want her to know that I'm here and that Dr. Mac is going to make her feel better very soon. I glance across the room at Mrs. Clark, who is being careful to stay out of the way. The elderly woman's face is pale and scared. I wish I could reassure her that Lucy is going to be all right, but I know Mrs. Clark won't feel better until this is all over. So I don't say anything. I return my attention to Lucy, hoping she can feel the good thoughts I'm sending her.

Dr. Mac returns with a syringe. “Okay,” she says, “this will make you feel better, girl.” She injects the anesthetic with one smooth move.

I watch Lucy's eyelids droop lower and lower until she's unconscious. Her breathing has slowed, and she looks relaxed. Dr. Mac carefully carries Lucy into the X-ray room. I follow her so that I can keep watch while the X-ray is being taken.

 
 
A couple of minutes later, Dr. Mac, Lucy, and I are back in the Herriot Room. Dr. Mac sticks the X-ray film on the light box on the wall and flips a switch to turn it on. “Hmm,” she says. “It's broken, all right.”

Dr. Mac points out a section of the image to Mrs. Clark. “Luckily, it's a closed fracture, so it shouldn't be too hard to take care of.”

I exchange a relieved glance with Maggie and David. I've been at the clinic long enough to know that a closed fracture is when a broken bone hasn't broken through the skin. When it does, it's called a compound fracture and it's a little trickier, since the wound could get infected. Because of Lucy's diabetes, infections can be especially dangerous.

“Will she be all right?” Mrs. Clark asks in a quivering voice. “We've been together so long, I couldn't stand it if she . . . ” She stops, seeming afraid to finish the sentence.

Dr. Mac flashes her a smile. “She'll be fine,” she assures her. “It's a hairline fracture, and it's in the lower part of the leg where it's easier to set. With a little luck, she'll be as good as new once it heals.”

Mrs. Clark looks relieved. David has already heated a pan of water on a special hot plate. Now Dr. Mac picks up a sheet of bright blue plastic. She dips the thin plastic sheet into the warm water, letting it soften.

“What's that?” Mrs. Clark asks nervously.

“It's the splint,” Dr. Mac explains as she pulls the now pliable plastic out of the water. “I was just softening it so that I can shape it around Lucy's broken leg. The fit will be nice and snug once it cools and hardens up again.”

Dr. Mac works quickly, fitting the warm plastic around Lucy's foreleg. I wish I could do more to help, but Dr. Mac has everything under control. She finishes shaping the plastic splint, then steps back so we can all see it. “Would you bring me some bandages, Maggie, please?” she asks. After she carefully wraps the splint with the bandages, she steps back again, looking satisfied. “All finished,” she says. “Now all we have to do is let her wake up.”

Maggie steps forward. “Would you like a cup of tea or something while you wait?” she asks Mrs. Clark.

“Oh, a cup of tea would be nice.” Mrs. Clark smiles at Maggie gratefully. “Thank you. Lemon, no sugar, please.”

“Okay. I'll be right back.” Maggie hurries out of the room.

David and I start cleaning up the exam room while Dr. Mac and Mrs. Clark talk about the storm. It doesn't take long for Lucy to come around. First the cat's long tail starts twitching, then she tries to lift her head. It wobbles weakly, and she lets out a soft meow. Mrs. Clark gently pets her.

“Don't worry, Lucy,” she croons. “The doctor made you all better. Now we can go home.”

“Why don't you let her stay until she's fully awake,” Dr. Mac suggests. “I can check her glucose level before she goes home.”