We all get into bed feeling exhausted. It’s been another long, tiring day. As well as caring for the new babies, I still have my guinea pigs, chickens and Curly to look after. I feel really guilty as I put Curly’s basket outside my bedroom door. I don’t think he likes my new babies at all.

Only a couple of minutes after Dad turns off the light in the hallway, the crickets start to chirp.

‘Oh, for goodness sakes!’ groans Dad.

I don’t mind the noise at all. It’s a bit like sleeping out in the bush. In fact, I think my babies actually like it because they settle. It probably makes them feel more like they’re at home.

I get up to go to the toilet during the night and see the light on in the surgery.

I tiptoe out along the path and open the door. Mum looks up and doesn’t seem all that surprised to see me. Mrs O’Sullivan is sitting beside her feeding a baby too.

‘How’s the baby koala?’ I ask.

‘Still struggling, I’m afraid,’ sighs Mum. ‘I did get her to take a tiny sip of milk from a glass syringe, but she’s very reluctant.’

I walk over and look into her cage. The little ball inside the pouch doesn’t move at all.

‘Juliet, vets can’t save every animal that comes in. You know that.’

I nod and try to smile. ‘I think I’ll go back to bed.’

Curly has followed me the whole time. I let him into my room to see what he will do. He sniffs at the cages for a moment then sits beside the bed and rests his chin on it. I stroke him gently. He seems to understand that I feel sad.

The next morning Max is very excited. His lizard has eaten some of the banana from his bowl.

‘That’s a good sign,’ says Mum.

‘It’ll be a better sign when he’s eaten those crickets,’ grumbles Dad, looking behind the door and in the wardrobe. I don’t think Dad would make much of a camper.

‘My dinosaurs are going to help me round up the crickets,’ says Max proudly. I look at a large Tyrannosaurus Rex on the floor with its mouth open. A cricket is sitting on its nose. I don’t think it’s quite as terrified as Max might hope.

‘Just make sure it’s a quiet hunt,’ I say. ‘My babies are trying to sleep.’

Chelsea arrives from next door looking all neat and tidy. I look like a dinosaur’s breakfast. Vets don’t always have time for grooming themselves.

We start getting ready for our next round of feeding, preparing the warm water and formula.

‘Maisy and her mum are bringing their babies in for a check-up with your mum this morning,’ says Chelsea.

‘I can’t wait to see those little ringtail possums again. Especially Lambchop. He’s so chubby and cuddly looking.’

‘I don’t understand why they’re called ringtails?’ says Chelsea. ‘My brushtails all have tails that make little rings too.’ She pulls back one of the pouches to reveal a fluffy tail curled in the shape of a ring.

‘Yeah, it’s confusing,’ I say. ‘All possums have tails that go into a ring because that’s how they hold onto branches and stuff. Brushtail possums just have much fluffier ones – a bit like a bottlebrush, I guess. Here, I’ll show you the difference.’

I open my Vet Diary.

‘Oh, I see! Juliet,’ sighs Chelsea, ‘you really are nearly a vet.’

I smile but the moment is ruined by a loud ‘Gotcha!’ Max runs past the bedroom yelling, ‘Dad, I got another one!’

‘I don’t know how much longer this can go on,’ I mutter as I stand up to close my door. ‘This morning Curly was fast asleep when a cricket crawled onto his back. Max pounced on it and poor Curly got such a fright he ran out the back door taking the screen with him. Dad’s just finished fixing it now.’

‘That’s not going to do a lot for your Dad’s love of animals!’ laughs Chelsea.

Right on cue we hear a loud ‘AGGGHHHH!’ followed by a bang in the kitchen. We both race out to see what it is.

‘What on earth?’ yells Dad. An ice-cream tub half-filled with writhing brown things is sitting on the table.

‘Mealworms,’ Max and I answer in unison.

‘What are mealworms?’ says Dad, pulling a face. ‘And why do we have worms of any kind in the fridge? I thought it was leftovers from dinner last night.’

‘They’re to feed Killer the Lizard,’ Max explains. ‘Mrs O’Sullivan bought them for me because we were worried the crickets were too fast for the lizard while he’s sick. You should see how much he loves them, Dad.’

‘They’re not actually worms, Dad. They’re beetle larvae. If you keep them in the fridge, it stops them from going through metamorphosis,’ I add.

I thought everyone knew that.

‘Here, I’m sure I have a life-cycle diagram in my Vet Diary.’

I flick through to the section on insects to find my diagram.

‘Uh, thanks, Juliet, but I think . . . I’m just going to . . . um . . . work in my . . . office . . . alone . . . for a while,’ says Dad, backing away slowly before I can show him. He leaves the kitchen shaking his head. He’s been doing that a lot lately.