He strokes the ferret’s head. “This is Fidget. She’s been pooping blood all morning. And, um, I don’t know what to do.”
His voice trembles. His hands shake as he holds Fidget out to me.
I take his pet. Her eyes are clear, her fur soft and shiny. There’s no weird discharge from her nose or ears or around her mouth.
“Tell you what,” I say. “Let’s go into an exam room and have a look at her.”
He forces a swallow. “Okay.”
Dottie comes around the corner. “Hey, Patrick.”
“Hi, Miss Dottie.”
“Is Fidget okay?” she asks.
“I . . .” Patrick looks up at me. “I don’t know.”
“We’re going to have a look at her.” I smile at Patrick. “But she seems pretty playful. Has she been active?”
He follows me into one of the exam rooms and closes the door behind us.
“She’s been acting fine,” he says. “I mean, I lost her for about an hour last night. She got out of my room and escaped. She’s a freaking Houdini.”
“Where did you find her?”
“In the bathroom.”
I roll the ferret over in my hands and check her tummy. And then I look at her backside.
“Is this the blood?” I point to some red residue near her bottom.
“Yes.”
I press my hand on her belly to feel around. She thinks I’m playing and nibbles at my hand.
“What did you do when you found her?” I ask him.
“Well, I figured she wanted a bath. She loves water. So we did that and then”—he thinks back—“I took her back to my room while I went down for dinner. Then I took a snack up and watched a movie and let her run loose in my room until I went to bed.”
“What did you snack on?”
“Cinnamon gummy bears.”
“Sugar-free?” I ask.
He wrinkles his nose. “No. Do they even make them sugar-free?”
“They do. And it’s important because xylitol is an additive to sugar-free foods that’s very toxic to animals, including ferrets.” I take a swab out of a container and capture some of the residue. “Is there any chance she’s gotten into any cleaning products? Any other food items? Anything she shouldn’t have been besides the candy?”
He shakes his head. “No. She’s in her cage unless I’m with her. And Mom doesn’t let me have food in my room. I had to sneak the gummy bears in there.”
“That’s good.” I hand Fidget back to Patrick. “Hold on to her for me and I’ll be right back.”
He nods as I take the swab and leave the room.
The lab my grandfather has set up is across the hall. It takes only a few minutes to confirm my suspicions.
I wash my hands before I return to the exam room. Patrick is talking softly to Fidget when I enter.
“It seems to me that your friend here likes the same snacks as you do,” I say.
“Huh?”
I smile softly. “Go home. Give her another bath. And next time you have gummy bears, keep them out of her reach.” I put my hand on Fidget’s head and give it a gentle shake. “She’s a fan too.”
“Really? Oh, that’s great,” Patrick says, bringing the pet up to his chin and nuzzling it. “She’s gonna be fine, then?”
“She’ll be fine. She might have a bit of a sore tummy, though, because cinnamon is pretty strong. Keep an eye on her, but I think she’s going to be good as new.”
He looks at me like I just hit a game-winning home run. I think he’s trying to decide whether he should hug me or not.
“Thanks, Doctor. Seriously, you just saved my life.”
“I don’t know about that, but you’re welcome.” I open the door. “Now go see Dottie before you leave, okay?”
“Got it.” His grin splits his cheeks as he heads to the counter.
I wash my hands in the sink next to the exam table. I’m drying them off when my phone buzzes in my pocket. I take a peek into the lobby. It’s empty.
“Hello?” I say.
“Is this Dr. McKenzie?”
“Yes, it is.”
“Hello, Holden. This is Timothy Montgomery from Montgomery Farms.”
I close the door. My heartbeat quickens as I switch the phone to my other hand. My palms sweat, and I make a concerted effort not to drop the phone.
“Hi, Dr. Montgomery. How are you?”
“I’m good. Thank you. I’m calling because you’ve applied for the rehabilitation position at our facility in Orlando. Is that right?”
“It is.” My voice cracks more than it should, and I wince at the sound of it. “I’m honored to be considered.”
Papers shuffle in the background.
“Well, I’m honored to let you know that you’ve made it to the final two candidates,” he says.
My jaw pops open. I run a hand through my hair at the realization that it’s a possibility that this whole damn thing might just actually happen.
Holy shit.
“That’s . . . amazing,” I say. “I’m . . . Wow. Thank you.”