I would never make it.
I couldn’t worry about the meeting, not just then, anyway. I had to get the hamster ready for the trip to the vet. What could I carry him in? I ran into the Mancusis’ garage and found a stack of cardboard boxes. Among them was a shoe box. Perfect, I thought. I filled the shoe box with shavings and carried it inside. Then I had to figure out how to get the hamster into the shoe box. I didn’t want to touch him in case he was hurting. Finally I cleaned out an empty dog-food can, made sure there were no rough edges, placed some treats in it, put it in the hamster cage right next to the fat hamster — and he crawled in! Then I moved the can into the box. We were all set.
The hamster crawled back out of the can and quickly settled down in the box. He didn’t try to get out. Even so, I punched some holes in the lid of the box, planning to bring it with me. You never know what might happen, so it’s always best to be prepared.
Beep, beep.
That must be Mama, I thought.
I grabbed the box and my jacket and went outside, being careful not to jostle the box. The Mancusis’ house key was in my pocket. I remembered to lock their front door.
“Thanks, Mama!” I cried, as I slid into the front seat of her car.
Behind me, Squirt was strapped into his car seat. He was babbling away.
“Let’s see this little guy,” said Mama.
I removed the lid and held out the box.
“He seems quiet,” commented Mama, “but —”
“He’s been just like this all week,” I interrupted her.
“Okay, then. We better be on our way. Where’s the Mancusis’ vet?”
I gave her the address. Then I sat back. I felt relieved just to be doing something.
“Broo-broo-broo-broo,” sang Squirt as we drove along.
We pulled into the parking lot of the veterinary offices, and I put the lid back on the box. No telling what we would find when we got inside. Well, it was a good thing I did. The waiting room was a madhouse. Mama stepped out of the car carrying Squirt and a bunch of his toys, and I stepped out with the hamster in the box. When I opened the door to the vet’s office I was surprised. I’d never been to a vet because we’ve never had a pet, so I don’t know what I thought the waiting room would be like, but …
For starters, it was noisy. Most of the people were sitting there with dogs or cats. The cats were safely in carrying cases, except for a Siamese on a leash. And they were fairly quiet, but two cats — the Siamese and a tabby cat — were yowling loudly. And plenty of the dogs were barking; the little ones with high, sharp yips, the big ones with deep rowfs.
Squirt looked around, taking in the people and animals, and listening to the noise, and his lower lip began to tremble.
Mama patted him on the back. It’s okay, Mr. Squirt,” she said. “It’s just a lot of —”
Suddenly my mother let out a shriek. She pointed at something across the room. I looked and saw it, too.
It was a snake. And not just a little garter snake like Barney, either. Some great big kind of snake was draped around the neck of a boy who looked as if he were about fourteen years old.
“Oh, my …” my mother started to say.
She looked like she might faint, so I tried to figure out how to catch both her and Squirt without squishing the hamster, if she did.
But she didn’t. Thank goodness.
And from across the room the boy said politely, “Don’t worry. He’s just a boa constrictor. He’s not poisonous or anything. Sorry he scared you.”
My mother smiled at him, but headed for seats as far from the boy as possible. She sat Squirt safely in her lap. “All right, honey,” she said to me, “you better go tell the receptionist about your hamster and explain why you don’t have an appointment.”
“Okay.” I carried the hamster across the waiting room, skirting around the boy with the snake, and stepped up to the desk. I placed the box on the desk and opened it.
“Yes?” said the receptionist.
“Hi,” I began. “My name is Jessi Ramsey. I’m pet-sitting for the Mancusis this week and one of their hamsters is sick.”
“Oh, the Mancusis,” said the woman. She seemed to remember the name. I realized that with all their animals, they must have to go to the vet fairly often. “What seems to be the trouble?”
“Well, it’s just that he doesn’t sleep with the other hamsters and he’s very bad-tempered.” I edged the box forward and the woman peered in at the hamster.
“Fat, isn’t he?” she commented.
“Yes,” I replied. “In fact, he’s fatter than he was a week ago. I think maybe he’s in pain. Something just doesn’t seem right.”
The woman nodded. “Okay. If you’re worried, it’s better to have things checked out. I have to tell you, though, that because you don’t have an appointment, and because this isn’t an emergency, you might have a long wait. It’s hard to tell. There are five doctors in today, which is a lot, but there are also a lot of animals waiting.”
“That’s okay,” I told her. “Just as long as he gets checked.” I started to stroke the hamster’s head before I replaced the lid on the box, but thought better of it. Then I made my way back to Mama.
I was beginning to feel awfully nervous. I checked my watch. Two forty-five. A quarter to three. Our special meeting would start in a little over an hour. Could I possibly make it? Was there any way?
I sat down next to Mama and tried hard not to bite my nails.
Then Squirt leaned over from his place on Mama’s lap and said, “Pockita?” which is his way of asking to play patty-cake. We played patty-cake until a girl about Becca’s age came into the waiting room with her father. She was holding a kitten, and she headed for the empty seats next to Mama. Her father spoke to the receptionist.
“What an adorable kitten,” said my mother as the girl settled herself in a seat.
Immediately the girl stood up again. “Her name is Igga-Bogga,” she said. She offered Igga-Bogga to us, and Mama and I took turns holding her, while Squirt patted her.
Igga-Bogga was skinny. And she was pure white, not a patch or a stripe or even a hair of another color anywhere. If she were my cat, I would have named her Misty or Clouds or Creampuff.
I was about to mention those names to the girl, when she spoke up again. “Guess what. It’s so sad. Igga-Bogga is deaf.”
“Deaf!” I cried.
The girl nodded. “That happens sometimes with white cats.”
Her father joined us and he and Mama began talking about white cats being deaf. I looked at my watch. Three-ten. Less than an hour until the special meeting. What could I do? The hamster was my responsibility, my sitting responsibility. If I were baby-sitting on a weekday afternoon and the parents didn’t come home and I had a club meeting to go to — well, I’d just have to miss the meeting, wouldn’t I? Sitting responsibilities come first. So right now, a sick hamster came first.
I knew I was right, yet I started tapping my fingers and jiggling my feet. Oh, I hate being late and missing events I’m supposed to go to, and I especially hate upsetting Kristy.
“Miss Ramsey?” It was the receptionist.
My head snapped up. “Yes,” I said. “I’m right here.”
I picked up the hamster and his box and got to my feet. Next to me, Mama gathered up Squirt and his toys.
I checked my watch for the umpteenth time. Three-thirty! How did it get to be three-thirty? I would have to call Kristy as soon as I could safely step out of the doctor’s office.
A nurse led Mama and Squirt and me through a doorway, down a corridor, and into an examining room.
“Hi, there. I’m Doctor West,” said a friendly looking man wearing a white lab coat. He stuck his hand out.
Mama and I shook it, and I introduced us.
“So you’ve got one of the Mancusi pets here?” said Dr. West when the introductions were over. “Let me take a look.”
While Dr. West examined the hamster, I ducked into the waiting r
oom to use the pay phone I’d seen there. First I called Kristy.
“… so I’m not going to be able to make the meeting,” I finished up after I’d told her the story. “I’m really sorry.”
“No problem,” Kristy replied easily. “You did the right thing.”
“I did?” I said. “Even though it’s a hamster?”
“The hamster is your sitting charge,” said Kristy. “Pets, kids, it doesn’t matter. You’re being responsible. That’s what matters.”
“Thanks, Kristy.”
“Listen, I’ll call the others and tell them the meeting has been postponed. We’ll try to arrange it for eleven o’clock tomorrow morning, but call me tonight to check on the time.”
“Okay,” I said. “Thanks again, Kristy.”
I hung up the phone, then dropped in another coin and called Mal to explain why I wouldn’t be stopping by her house to pick her up.
When that was done, I returned to Dr. West’s office. I found him and my mother grinning.
“What?” I said. “Why are you smiling?”
“Because,” answered Mama, “your hamster isn’t a he, he’s a she. And she is pregnant!”
“I’d say she’s going to have her babies within the next twenty-four hours,” added Dr. West. “You were lucky you didn’t touch her today. A pregnant hamster should not be handled.” Dr. West instructed me to transfer the other hamsters to a separate cage so the mother could be alone with her babies after giving birth. “And don’t handle her at all,” he said again. “A pregnant hamster is very delicate. Put her back in her cage by lowering the box inside it and letting her crawl out.”
“Okay,” I replied. Then I thanked Dr. West.
I rode back to the Mancusis’ in high spirits. “Just think,” I said to Mama. “The hamster is a girl, not a boy, and she’s going to have babies! I’ll have to give her a name. I want to be able to call her something.”
Mama dropped me off and Squirt waved to me from the car window.”
“Good-bye!” I called. “ ’Bye, Squirt. Thank you for helping me, Mama. I’ll be home as soon as I walk the dogs again and do the afternoon chores.”
Mama beeped the horn as she drove down the street.
I ran to the Mancusis’ garage before I did anything else. There I found the aquarium we had used to capture Barney. I poured shavings into it and added some food and a spare water bottle, and gently moved the hamsters into it. Then, even more gently, I set the shoe box in the old cage and let the pregnant hamster crawl out.
“What should I call you?” I asked aloud as she settled into her nest in the corner of the cage. “Maybe Suzanne. I always liked that name…. No. Suzanne is dumb for a hamster. Chipper? Nah, too cute. And it sounds like a boy’s name. Sandy? You are sand-colored. Nah, that’s boring. After lots of thinking, I decided to call her Misty, which is what I would name a white kitten if I had one. The hamster wasn’t anywhere near white, but I decided that didn’t matter. Misty was a good name.
I went home feeling excited. When I came back in the morning, Misty would be a mother!
Sunday morning I woke up super-early. I had a lot to do at the Mancusis’ before I left for Claudia’s. I had to walk the dogs, feed the dogs and cats, and finish the chores I had begun the day before. And of course I wanted to check on Misty and her babies. I ran straight for Misty as soon as I’d closed the Mancusis’ door behind me. When I reached the kitchen, though, I slowed down and tiptoed inside. I peeked into Misty’s cage.
Nothing.
Just Misty and her nest and a pile of shavings.
“Oh, you didn’t have them yet,” I said, feeling disappointed. I began to wonder if Dr. West had been wrong. Then what? Well, the Mancusis would be home in the afternoon. I would tell them the story and let them decide what to do. At least Misty had been to a doctor.
Besides, worrywart, I told myself, Dr. West said the babies would be born in the next twenty-four hours. There were about seven more hours to go until the twenty-four were up.
So I left Misty to herself, walked the dogs, fed them and the cats, finished the cleaning, and then …took off for our special club meeting. I dropped by Mallory’s house on the way, since we were still planning to arrive at Claudia’s together.
Mallory was waiting on her porch steps. “Hi!” she called when she spotted me.
“Hi,” I replied.
Mallory ran across her front lawn. “Did the hamster have her babies yet?” she asked breathlessly. (I’d told Mal everything the night before.)
I shook my head. “Not yet. I wish she had. I wanted her to have them before the Mancusis get back.”
“Maybe we could check on her after the meeting,” suggested Mal.
“Oh! That’s a good idea. We could all come.”
Mal made a face at the thought, but the only thing she said was, “Do you know who you’re going to vote for?”
I nodded my head slowly. “I think so. I probably won’t know for sure until I’m actually voting, but right now I think I know.”
“Funny,” said Mal. “I feel the same way…. Should we say who we’re going to vote for?”
“No,” I replied. “Better not. We should go ahead with what we’ve planned on. If we say anything, we might change each other’s minds.”
“Okay.”
A few more minutes and Mal and I had reached the Kishis’ house. We looked at each other.
“Dum da-dum dum,” sang Mal ominously.
I laughed — or tried to.
Mal opened the door. We went inside and straight up to Claud’s room. Kristy was already there, busily sorting through some slips of paper.
“Hi, you guys,” Claud greeted us.
“Hi,” we replied, settling into our places on the floor.
“What —” Claud started to say, but she was interrupted by the arrival of Mary Anne and Dawn, both looking a little sleepy.
When everyone was sitting in her usual spot, Kristy surprised us by beginning the meeting with, “Tell us about the hamster, Jessi.”
I jerked to attention. I’d been preparing for the voting. Now I had to switch gears. “Well,” I said, “this is good news. The hamster isn’t sick —”
“Oh, that’s wonderful!” cried Dawn. “So it was a false alarm?”
“Not exactly,” I answered. “The hamster turns out to be a she. By the way, I’m calling her Misty for the time being. And Misty is …” (I looked at Mal, dragging out the suspense.)
“Yes?” shrieked Mary Anne.
“… Going to have babies!” I exclaimed. “Probably lots of them. Doctor West said hamsters usually give birth to six to twelve young. Those were his exact words. And it should happen any minute now, because yesterday afternoon he said it would happen within the next twenty-four hours.”
“That is so exciting!” squealed Dawn.
“Babies!” exclaimed Mary Anne.
“Lots of them!” added Claudia.
“The Mancusis will be thrilled!” cried Kristy.
For a moment, I felt as if I were in a regular club meeting, back before we had started fighting all the time. Then Kristy said, “When the meeting is over, maybe we could go to the Mancusis’ and see how Misty is doing.” (Mal elbowed me.) “But right now,” she went on, “we have a job to do.”
I watched the faces of the other club members turn from happy and expectant to worried and uncertain.
Kristy organized the pile of papers before her into a neat stack. “Now,” she said, “I’ve made those special ballots, just like I said I would. Each piece of paper is headed with the name of one of the offices. Below that are the names of the four officers. All you have to do is make an X in the box by the name of the person you’d like to see in the office. Okay?”
The rest of us nodded our heads.
“Great,” said Kristy. “Let’s start with treasurer.” She handed blank ballots to Mary Anne, Claudia, Mal, and me, and then gave one to herself.
“Everyone votes except Dawn,” she reminded us.
Mary Anne raised her hand. “Uh, Kristy,” she said timidly, “I’m — I’m really sorry, but I have to say something about that.”
“Yeah?” replied Kristy.
“Well, it’s just — it’s just that, for instance, Dawn might not want to be the treasurer anymore, but maybe she’s got a good idea about who the new treasurer should be. Who would know that better than Dawn? I understand what you said about ties, but I think we should all get to vote. If there’s a tie, we’ll have a revote. If we have to have too many revotes, then we’ll think about letting only five people vote. But we should vote with six first.”
I have to hand it to both Kristy and Mary Anne. Kristy listened to Mary Anne’s suggestion and took it seriously, and Mary Anne didn’t cry.
“Okay,” said Kristy, “let’s vote on what Mary Anne said. Nothing fancy, just a show of hands. All those in favor of letting everyone vote in the elections, raise your hand.”
Five hands went up. (Guess which one didn’t?)
“Great. I guess we’re all voting,” said Kristy. “Luckily, I made extra ballots, in case of mistakes, so we’re ready.”
Kristy handed a ballot to Dawn. Then she gave each of us a blue ballpoint pen.
I looked at my ballot, my heart pounding. TREASURER was written across the top. Below it were the names Kristy, Claudia, Mary Anne, and Dawn. A box had been drawn to the left of each name.
I paused for a moment, but I knew what I was going to do. I picked up the pen and made an X next to Dawn’s name. She was the best treasurer I could think of. But I was pretty sure she was going to kill me when she found out what I’d done (if she found out). The business of elections had started because the girls were tired of their old jobs and wanted a change. Well, too bad. I couldn’t help that. Dawn was my choice for treasurer.
I glanced around Claudia’s room and tried to measure the tension in the air. Funny, but there didn’t seem to be much of it. The club members were busy voting, that was true, but more than that, no one was arguing. I think we were relieved that election day had finally come, no matter what it would bring.
Jessi Ramsey, Pet-Sitter Page 7