“But you were gone for so long,” Brenna says, giggling.
“He wouldn’t budge. You know how he gets,” Maggie says. “If Gran hadn’t come by with the car, we would still be there.”
“Ha!” Brenna laughs. “I love this!”
“You cannot tell David!” Maggie says, “He’d make a million jokes.”
“Poor David,” I say. “He’s missed all the fun.”
“Some fun,” Maggie says. “It’s a good thing Gran is so strong. She and I had to hoist Sherlock up and get him into the car. He was like a boneless, drooling walrus. So heavy and floppy.”
The thought of that sets us giggling again until we fall asleep.
Chapter Twelve
By morning, the mini–heat wave has broken. I ride along with Dr. Gabe to the Van Hoven farm. Before we left the clinic, there was a little conversation about whether Melissa should come along and meet Mrs. Van Hoven and see what Dr. Gabe does on stable calls. The vet she has been working for does not have a “large animal” practice. So she doesn’t have much experience with farm animals or horses.
In the end, Dr. Gabe decided he wouldn’t wait for Melissa. She couldn’t come in until noon, and he wanted to get right over to check on another horse at the farm. He seemed a bit surprised when I told him I would go with him. But I had done a bit of research on horses on my phone before Maggie and Brenna woke up, so I felt ready. This time, I am determined to help with one of those big horses.
Mrs. Van Hoven is walking an enormous gray horse around the smallest outdoor ring when we get there. A couple of teenage girls are with her.
“Thanks for coming, Dr. Gabe. Hello, Sunita,” Mrs. Van Hoven calls. She waves at us as we get out of the truck. Dr. Gabe has his vet bag and I carry the helmet bag.
“Is this my patient?” Dr. Gabe asks, striding toward them.
“No, no, no, this gorgeous beast is Annabelle’s new stallion,” Mrs. Van Hoven says, gesturing toward the shorter teen beside her. “This is Sir Gawain.”
“Is it okay if I greet your horse, Annabelle?” Dr. Gabe asks.
“Sure,” Annabelle says, smiling. “We’re all just getting acquainted. So far he’s proved gentle.”
Dr. Gabe passes me his vet bag, steps into the ring, and approaches the horse from the side. I know that this is the proper way to approach a horse. Both David and Dr. Gabe have tried to teach all the Vet Volunteers about caring for horses, and they’ve told us that a horse can feel threatened if you approach it head-on.
Dr. Gabe makes clicking noises until Sir Gawain looks up and steps toward him. “Hello, fella,” he says. Dr. Gabe holds up his hand and the horse sniffs him and nods his head. Dr. Gabe strokes the horse’s forehead and Sir Gawain makes a low nickering sound.
Dr. Gabe continues to stroke the horse’s face. Then he runs his hands down the horse’s side and each of his legs. All the while, Dr. Gabe speaks softly to Sir Gawain.
“Would you be a good boy and show me your mouth?” Dr. Gabe asks the horse. I do not hear the horse answer, but he does let Dr. Gabe gently pull back his lips. Dr. Gabe tells me that you can tell how old a horse is from his teeth, as well as whether he’s able to chew properly. And I know that with all animals, gums that are too pale or discolored can signify a problem.
“What beautiful teeth you have, Sir Gawain,” Dr. Gabe says, and he lets the horse’s mouth close again. Dr. Gabe pets the horse once more on the side of his face, and then he steps back.
“Annabelle, thanks for letting me check out your horse.” Dr. Gabe smiles at her.
“Oh, I appreciate it,” Annabelle says. “Thank you.”
“It’s hard to just walk by a handsome horse like this and not want to check him out,” Dr. Gabe says. “Congratulations.”
Mrs. Van Hoven puts her hand on the taller girl’s shoulder. “This is Megan,” she says. “Megan, this is Dr. Gabe and Sunita.”
I do a little wave. “Hi, Megan.” She waves back.
Mrs. Van Hoven tells us to come with her and starts walking toward the stables, all the while talking to us over her shoulder. “Megan’s roan mare is your patient—Acappella. She’s been a little listless, for . . . how long would you say, Megan? About forty-eight hours?”
Megan nods and says, “And she’s had a fever for a little over a day.”
Acappella is standing with her head down in her stall. She’s slender and medium gray, with a dark tail and a long dark mane that is falling over her eyes. As I get closer, I notice that she is panting a bit and her sides look damp.
“Hello, girl,” Megan says softly. Acappella looks up at Megan’s voice, then down again.
“Your mom is in the big ring with your sister, right?” Mrs. Van Hoven asks Megan. Megan nods and Mrs. Van Hoven says, “I’ll be right back with her.”
Dr. Gabe pulls the helmets out of the bag before going into Annabelle’s stall. He looks at me, and I know he’s making sure that I really do want to help. I nod and he passes me a helmet.
“Why don’t you put your riding helmet on,” Dr. Gabe says to Megan. “You can be an extra pair of hands if we need them.”
When we’re all helmeted, Dr. Gabe passes me a pair of latex gloves.
“Don’t put them on yet,” he says. He tucks his pair into the neck of his shirt, so I do too.
“Like any animal, each horse has his or her own temperament,” Dr. Gabe tells me. “Let’s figure out how many people in the stall are too many people, according to Acappella. If her ears go back or her nostrils flare, that’s a sign that she’s probably getting uncomfortable.” Dr. Gabe enters alone and approaches Acappella the way he did Sir Gawain. Acappella is clearly not as interested in the vet as Sir Gawain was. I’m not sure if that’s a difference in the temperaments of the two horses, or if that’s about Acappella’s being sick.
“Let’s have you step in, Sunita,” Dr. Gabe says.
My throat feels tight. But I will do this as calmly as I can. I don’t want Acappella to sense my fear and become afraid herself—or, worse, become dangerous. I’m so glad that Dr. Gabe just did all of this with Sir Gawain. I have a good memory, and I paid attention. All I need to do now is control my fear.
I take a deep breath and step into the stall, clicking my tongue so that Acappella knows I’m there. She raises her head again and drops it, then swishes her tail a bit. Dr. Gabe and I stay on her mounting side. I know most horses are used to people being on that side and prefer it. Luckily, she doesn’t have any injuries on her far side—at least that we know of.
“Hello, girl. Hello, Acappella,” I say, lifting my hand for her to sniff. Ahh, now I know why we don’t put the latex gloves on before we greet the horse. We’d just smell like latex, and I bet a horse who has been sick before and needed treatment might be uneasy about that smell. Acappella sniffs my hand and nuzzles it a little.
“She’s looking for a treat,” Megan says from the stall door.
“Let’s hold off on giving her one until the end of the exam,” Dr. Gabe says. “We’ll reward her for her good behavior when we’re done.”
Dr. Gabe talks softly to Acappella. He opens his vet bag and takes out a thermometer and a tube of lubricant.
As he pulls on a pair of gloves, Dr. Gabe says, “Sunita, let’s have you stand beside her head and chat with Acappella. Keep your hand on her halter—firmly, but not too tight.”
So I’ll be near her giant teeth. I’m not certain if that is better than being near her kicking legs or not. But I do as Dr. Gabe asks.
“Good girl, Acappella, good girl,” I say.
My throat hurts and my head feels hot. Is her fever contagious? But of course, I know it isn’t. I suppose I feel hot because I’m nervous. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Dr. Gabe put the thermometer in her backside. He keeps one hand holding Acappella’s tail and one hand on the thermometer. It seems like we wait forever for the thermometer to t
ake the reading. But it’s probably less than a minute.
Megan’s mom arrives with Mrs. Van Hoven, and they wait at the stall door as Dr. Gabe finishes the exam.
“I want to take a blood sample, to see if Acappella has an infection. Is that okay with you and your mom?” Dr. Gabe asks.
They tell him it’s fine. Dr. Gabe puts on a fresh pair of gloves and gets a needle and vial from his bag. I hold the rope attached to her halter and watch as Dr. Gabe rubs Acappella’s neck and then swipes it with a disinfecting alcohol pad. Dr. Gabe inserts the needle and then pulls back on the plunger. The reservoir fills with blood. That’s when someone—either Megan or her mom—squeals. Then something thumps on the floor outside.
Acappella startles, and I hold fast to her rope. Her eyes are wide, and she looks scared. The whites of her eyes are huge. I try not to let her jerk her head because Dr. Gabe still has the needle in her vein. I want to look behind me to see what is going on and who is in trouble, but I need to focus on Acappella and Dr. Gabe.
“Don’t bite me, don’t bite me, don’t bite me,” I whisper.
Dr. Gabe removes the needle and asks me to press the gauze square on the injection site. With one hand I hold the rope and with the other I press. Dr. Gabe transfers the blood sample into a vial called a vacutainer. It’s a vial with a rubber-like top that seals itself after you remove the needle.
“Massage the injection site now, Sunita,” Dr. Gabe says quietly. “It will prevent a blood clot and will help ease any pain she might have there.” I keep the gauze over the site and rub her muscle for a few seconds. As I do, I feel the tension drain out of Acappella’s neck and see her ears come forward a bit. This makes me feel more relaxed, too. And proud. For the first time, I realize that if I focus on what I know how to do, I can help any animal. No matter how big. Dr. Gabe gives Acappella a pat, and then he and I gather the bags and head out of the stall.
Megan’s mom is sitting with her back against the wall. Megan squats down beside her. Dr. Gabe bends down next to them.
“I just wasn’t expecting that needle,” her mom says. “And all that blood. I’m so embarrassed.”
Megan hands me a peppermint candy. I must look confused because she says, “It’s for Acappella.”
Oh boy, she wants me to feed this to her horse. Dr. Gabe looks up at me and says, “Flat hand.”
I slowly step back into the stall and make the clicking sound. But before I can do anything else, Acappella’s mouth is searching my hand for the peppermint. She may be sick, but she can certainly smell her favorite treat. She takes it from me so fast that I really don’t have time to worry about those teeth biting me. I gently stroke her long nose for a few moments as she chews, then I rejoin the others.
“Thanks, Sunita,” Dr. Gabe says, giving me a pat on the shoulder. “Well done.” I look up at him and he gives me a quick wink, and I know that he’s not just talking about giving Acappella the candy.
Chapter Thirteen
Dr. Gabe tells me that before we go he wants to look in on Tinker, the chestnut mare with the healing leg. But first he and Mrs. Van Hoven make sure that Megan’s mom is fine. Dr. Gabe explains to Megan how to care for Acappella until he gets the results of the blood test. While they go through those details, I wander down the row of stalls. Dr. Gabe’s work in some ways is similar to the clinic work, and in some ways is so very different. One thing I know for certain is that he goes on more stable calls these days than when I first became a Vet Volunteer. I suppose this is more proof that Dr. Mac is right about needing to hire more help. I reach Sylvester’s stall and can’t help smiling at this beautiful boy. Soon, he’ll have a friend here at this amazing horse farm. That’s when it hits me: Mrs. Van Hoven is making a mistake.
“Oh, little buddy, what are we going to do?” I ask Sylvester. He looks at me like I have an answer. “This isn’t right, is it? If only you could speak up for yourself.”
“Baaa,” Sylvester says. Yes, I’m going to have to speak for him.
Mrs. Van Hoven comes up beside me and says, “I promise you I have a few calls out to find him a friend. I’m sure I’ll hear something back this week.”
I nod and lean against the stall door.
“Of course,” Mrs. Van Hoven continues, “I also need to find someone to shear him. He’s just about due. Maybe Dr. Gabe knows who I can call?”
“He might,” I say. “Do you know what kind of vaccinations he needs?”
“I know he was all up to date on his shots when he arrived, but I’m sure he’s going to need more as he gets older. That’s another thing I’ve not quite figured out yet. I better make a list,” she says.
“Do you mind if I go in there with him?” I ask. Sylvester looks like he could use a cuddle, if he’d let me.
“Actually, why don’t we take him for a short walk,” she says. “I think you have a little time before Dr. Gabe is ready to go.”
Mrs. Van Hoven takes a harness down from a peg on the wall. Sylvester shakes his head like he doesn’t want to wear it, but as soon as she has it tightened around his head and neck, he prances for the door.
“It looks like he knows he’s going for a walk,” I say. “Like a lot of dogs do.”
Mrs. Van Hoven smiles. “He does love his walks.” We go through the nearby door. It leads into the large riding ring. The dirt floor must feel good on Sylvester’s hooves because he hops a little as he walks, first with his front legs together and then his back. Like a cat pouncing.
“Can we take him outside?” I ask.
“I don’t usually do that; in fact, I think he’s only been as far as the ring before. He has a couple of good horse friends in here. Not to mention the riders all dote on him.” She didn’t really answer the question, but she leads us out a side door onto a concrete walkway. The grassy area is just beyond. This is where Sylvester stops.
“Come on, Sylvester. Let’s go.” Mrs. Van Hoven tugs on his harness. But Sylvester doesn’t budge.
“Give him a little push from behind, will you, Sunita?” Mrs. Van Hoven asks.
I do not want him to kick me if I do this, but I’ll give it a try. I stand a little to the side of him and push as Mrs. Van Hoven pulls.
At first, Sylvester doesn’t move. But when we do it a second time, he takes a few tentative steps and at last is on the grass. He lifts one front hoof high and then the other. It’s as if the grass feels funny to him. Sylvester doesn’t seem to know what to do.
“Oh dear,” Mrs. Van Hoven says. “A lamb afraid of grass. What in the world was I thinking?”
She looks so distressed that I pat her arm before I realize what I’m doing. Then Sylvester gets down to business. He leaps and runs as far as his harness and Mrs. Van Hoven will allow. We race behind him, Mrs. Van Hoven holding on to the harness as Sylvester runs and turns and leaps and then runs again. This must be what joy looks like in a lamb. And then just as quickly, Sylvester stops moving and starts eating the grass.
Mrs. Van Hoven is a little out of breath when we all stop.
“That was my workout for today,” she says, panting a bit. We sit down on the grass and watch the lamb nibble grass.
“Mrs. Van Hoven, I’ve been thinking about Sylvester and your idea of getting him a friend.” She looks at me, and I know she’s willing to listen.
“Do you know the phrase ‘kicking the can down the road’?” I ask.
“I’ve certainly heard it a number of times in my life, Sunita. Usually by politicians. Are you running for office?” She chuckles.
“No, I’m thinking about something Dr. Mac said recently. She was talking about not really taking care of a particular problem. She kept just making little fixes. Doing that let her put off thinking about the problem without actually solving it.”
“Half measures,” Mrs. Van Hoven says quietly, looking at the lamb.
“Pardon me?” I ask. Maybe she doesn’t unders
tand what I’m trying to say.
“You’re trying to tell me that I’m dealing with Sylvester in half measures.”
“I’m afraid I don’t know that phrase,” I say.
“My mother used to tell us when we were kids, ‘no half measures!’ She meant we were not to do something partway, something only partly effective.” Mrs. Van Hoven takes a deep breath and sighs. Then she says, “Half measures can make you feel better, for a little while. It’s like a taste of progress. But yes, it’s kicking the can down the road, indeed.”
“Like Dr. Mac needing to hire a vet tech,” I suggest. “Or . . . or—”
I want to tell her what I’ve realized. But I don’t want to be mean. I try again. “Or you . . . well, Sylvester is alone. Here at this horse farm. And you . . . you’re—”
“What exactly are you trying to tell me, Sunita?” Mrs. Van Hoven asks. She doesn’t look angry.
But the words are a struggle for me. I’ve always been taught to respect my elders, and telling Mrs. Van Hoven that I think what she’s doing is wrong feels disrespectful. But I know I have to speak up for Sylvester. I take a breath, straighten my back, and begin again: “Sylvester needs a proper home with other sheep. I think you should be finding him a new home instead of trying to turn this horse farm into a sheep farm, too.”
Mrs. Van Hoven just sits still a moment. Then she taps her thigh and says, “You’re right, Sunita. No half measures here. Time to fully deal with the problem at hand. He is an adorable problem, isn’t he?”
I look at Sylvester and nod. He’s a sweet boy. Then I look back at Mrs. Van Hoven. Even though we are on the way to solving this problem, I can tell we both feel a little sad.
When Dr. Gabe and I return to the clinic, Brenna and Maggie are sitting on the waiting area couches. Across from them is Melissa, who is writing on the big white board we usually keep in the kennel. But she has it perched on an easel and has written “Vet Tech” across the top. There’s a bulleted list beneath, but Melissa is standing in front of it, so I can’t see all of what it says.
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