Vinny called out, “It’s three o’clock today.No after school stuff.”
“Got it.”I waved.To Tracker I said, “Traitor.”
As I headed into the clinic with Tracker on my heels, a tiny woman with long black hair carried in a pug.The dog made the telltale noise of heaving and proceeded to puke all over his mom.
“Oh, my God, Fisher.Just hold on,” his mom wailed.
“I’m Dr.Chomping.What’s going on with Fisher?”
The lady smeared the tears on her cheeks.“He fell down at home.Just fell over.He won’t get back up.”
“Why don’t you give him to me?You can go wash up in the ladies’ room and I’ll meet you in an exam room.”
“Thanks.”She dumped the dog in my arms and ran for the bathroom.
“Has Fisher done this before?”I called out to Marty.
“No.This is a first.He’s up to date on vaccines and prevention.Last visit was an ear infection three months ago.”
My mind switched off emotion and moved into emergency medicine mode.Gums white meant either bleeding internally or another cause of anemia, or possibly pain.To the little dog that cast me a miserable look I said, “I got you, Fisher.”
In the back, there was no sign of Josh.A lady in scrubs wore a headband to hold back a lot of frizzy brown hair.She milled near the treatment table, scrolling on her phone.
“Help me get a catheter in Fisher,” I ordered.“I’m Erika Chomping, Dr.Chomping’s daughter.”
“I’m Becky,” introduced the vet tech.“Dr.Hurst said you’d be in today.Bonnie will be in later and go out with Dr.Hurst on calls.”
“Fisher collapsed.I need an IV catheter in him.”I grabbed a stethoscope off the peg where it hung.A few attempts to listen and I tapped the diaphragm of the stethoscope on the counter.“This thing doesn’t work.”
“Nah.It’s more for show,” Becky said.She took the one off her neck and handed it to me.“This should work.”
Fisher started heaving again.I put him on the grate over the sink so the vomit could more easily be cleaned.
Becky stepped back with a scowl.“Does he have parvo?”
I hid my disappointment at her armchair diagnosis, which was way off base.She might have just started in the field a few weeks ago for all I knew.“No.He’s fully vaccinated.Parvo is impossible.Can you place a catheter if I hold off?”
She shook her head.Her wide-eyed horror might’ve been appropriate if I asked her to hold him down while I chopped off his tail, which I’d never do, rather than put a benign catheter into his leg.
“Keep him steady for a minute.”I searched through drawers until I found the right supplies.I clipped Fisher’s leg hair, prepped the skin with scrub, then placed and taped the catheter.“Can you start IV fluids?”
“No.I’m not trained for that.I just help with rooms.”
I hooked up the fluids and attached the bag to the only pump I could find.“I need to do blood work on him.We can do that in house right?”
Becky nodded.
Fisher let me pull blood from his back leg without help.
“Wow,” Becky said.“I’ve never seen anyone do that.Usually, it takes two or three of us to pull blood from a dog.”
“He’s a good dog who feels awful.Run this.”I handed her the tubes.“I need a CBC and chemistry.Do the big chemistry, not a cheapy mini panel.I need it now.”Insecurity glazed Becky’s face.“Can you run blood?”
“I think so.”
“Becky, I need anI-can-do-itfrom you.This is important.I’m not going to think less of you if you need to ask for help.”
“I’ll get Marty to help me.”
