Chapter 8

The Vet

Here we are. Lucky for you Daniel’s place is close to Jefferson School,” Mrs. Oliver said.

Branching veins, like interconnecting rivers, marked the tops of her soft hands. She had the kind of hands that said, “You can trust me.” Tramp still worried about Colin and Shannon. It was his job to protect them. But, how could he. And he was starting to worry about this person called Daniel and what he might do to his hurt leg.

He was getting panicky because his leg didn’t do what he told it to do. The pain was awful, and when they went into a building, he heard noises just like at Big Bob’s—upset animals. Maybe Daniel’s place was just like Big Bob’s Pet Store. Now he was in trouble. He’d rather die than go back to Big Bob’s, even if he could see Pauly and Calico and the mice.

The old woman took him into a big noisy room with lots of animals being held by humans. Some of the animals he didn’t recognize. The smells were horrible because so many animals were scared, and he started shaking.

But Daniel’s place was clean. Chairs lined up along one wall faced a big desk with a smooth-faced lady in a blue smock. She smiled at the people in the chairs. One held a calico cat, not his Calico, but one somewhat like her. Another held a nervous white poodle, and a little boy held a squirming snapping turtle. He knew snapping turtles. They lived in his lake. Tramp wondered if it was safe for the little boy to be holding it. There was a man with a box that held some unknown creature with a scent Tramp didn’t recognize. Next to him sat a lady with a long skinny thing with no legs wrapped around her neck.

None of the animals looked very friendly. Most looked scared.

“Buster and I were on our way here for his check-up when we saw this brave little guy get hit by a car,” Mrs. Oliver said to the woman behind the desk.

“Let’s have a look” said the lady. She reached over and touched his leg, still smiling. He yowled in a painful, “You be careful of me.”

“Oh, probably broken,” said the lady. “It could’ve been worse, a lot worse, Mrs. Oliver. He could be dead.”

“I know,” Mrs. Oliver said, frowning at the lady with the smooth face. “Can you get him in right way?”

“Qualifies as an emergency, as far as I can tell. Does he have a collar?” the lady in blue said.

“Here it is,” Mrs. Oliver said, handing Tramp’s collar to the woman. When she had taken it off, he didn’t know, but he didn’t want to lose it the way Calico lost her tag.

The woman looked at a small metal plate on the collar. “Yes, his name’s Tramp. Here’s a phone number. I’ll call the owners right away. They must be worried to death. Then I’ll get him in to see the doctor.”

His collar said who he was. Now Tramp really knew he shouldn’t lose that collar. The woman never stopped smiling. Maybe her face was frozen. That’s when Tramp realized for the first time what a collar was for. Maybe it could get you home when you’re hit by a car and get picked up by a kind old lady and her canary.

“I’m gonna get me one of those, maybe one for Mrs. Oliver, too,” Buster said as the lady in blue took Tramp away into what she called the “treatment” room.