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“Yeah, you definitely have a bad tooth. I’ll let them know so they can get it fixed for you and then it won’t hurt to eat anymore.”
“Really?” the old pig asked and closed its mouth. “Really?”
I nodded. “Yep. They’ll remove that tooth and then you’ll eat like you used to.”
“Wow.”
I patted its shoulder and exited the stall, being sure to lock it up behind me.
The last stop of the day was a little calf was refusing to drink the milk they were providing it. The poor thing’s mother had died giving birth to her. “Hello, little one,” I crooned. “I’m Ember.”
“Ember’s nice!” Winnie shouted. “Nice lady!”
“So thirsty,” the little calf whined. “Mommy!”
Taking the bottle out, I said, “I’ve got some yumminess right here. Take a drink.”
The calf huffed, but didn’t move, completely ignoring me.
“This will help you feel strong and happy,” I promised. “Come on.” I climbed over the gate, knelt, and squirted a bit into her mouth.
The calf swallowed it, her eyes widened, and she nudged my knee. “More! More!”
After I ensured she finished the entire bottle, I asked, “Would you like to play with some friends?”
“Friends?” she asked and raised her nose up to look at me.
I nodded. “One of my friends is here, a pig who likes to have fun. I know you two would get along great. What do you say? You want to meet her?”
She bobbed her head. “Yes!”
Grabbing the lead, I opened her door, lead her out, then opened Winnie’s door. “Winnie, come with us,” I said.
“Okay!” Winnie exclaimed and trotted after us, oinking as she followed.
When I got to one of the empty paddocks with lots of grass, I opened the gate and let them both in, then unclipped the lead from the calf. “Now, you two go play and be nice to each other, okay?”
“Tag?” Winnie asked the calf.
“Tag?” the calf asked back, confused.
Winnie went into a long explanation, spinning and oinking as she did, but once the calf understood, Winnie bumped her nose against the calf and started trotting around the pen.
I hopped up onto the wooden fence and watched as the calf and Winnie played, both laughing happily.
“Wow,” a werewolf woman said as she approached, a pair or dirty overalls on and rubber boots up to her knees. She leaned her arms on the fence and said, “I thought she was a goner. How did you do it?”
“I can communicate with animals,” I explained. “So, I thought I would put my powers to good use and help out animals that aren’t able to communicate with their owners.”
“So, you’re an animal psychiatrist?” she asked.
Chuckling, I shrugged. “In a sense, I guess. Really, I’m just a translator.”
“Like that kids’ book about the veterinarian who could talk to animals,” she said with a nod.
“Ah, I am not a veterinarian. I am a healer, but not the best.”
She looked at me a moment and then her eyes widened. “Your Majesty! Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t recognize you.” She bowed quickly.
