Vet Tech Tales: The Early Years (13 page)

“We don’t go by the clock. Brenda’s called in sick, so she won’t be here after school to do the evening feeding and cleaning.
Charla
has her kid to pick up and take care of. I need you here.”

I blinked. Even if I could clean all the cages, walk the dogs and feed the animals that were staying the night before the clinic closed at 6:00, the vets still had final rounds to make. Say 30 minutes to help hold and treat our overnight patients. Then the clinic had to be cleaned and straightened, from the waiting room and exam rooms to the bathroom and surgery. And finally all the floors had to vacuumed and mopped. That would easily run the clock up to 7:30 – and a 12-hour day.

Straight time, too, I reminded myself. I had agreed there wouldn’t be time-and-a-half pay when I accepted the job, and I wasn’t savvy enough about labor laws – yet – to realize my mistake.

All I knew right then was the
man
who was paying me to cuddle frightened kittens, de-flea itchy dogs and, in general, help make the lives of a few animals – and their owners – happier was asking me to help out during an unusual and unexpected circumstance.
Right?
Besides, didn’t he and Dr. Reese routinely work 11- and 12-hour days?

Plus, I told myself as I marked through the timestamp and returned the timecard to the top of the clock, I wasn’t staying for Dr. Norris. I was staying for the animals.

Who else would give Elmo, the little white
spitz
, his final fluff when he was dry from his bath?

Who else would take Bonnie, the German shepherd boarding the week with us, for a run up and down the block so she could stretch those high-energy legs of hers?

Who else would smuggle a few bites of canned food to Barney, blood donor and Houdini-cat extraordinaire, to reward his clownish behavior and moocher ways?

Who else?

Eight hours in and I was already slaved heart and soul to the dogs and cats who needed me.

Oh, who was I kidding? They didn’t need me as much as I needed them.

I was staying because one thing was very clear: from here on out, my life was no longer my own.

I belonged to the animals.

 
About the Author

In the corporate world, Phoenix was a professional writer and editor for 23 years. Before that, she was a registered veterinary technician, working with small animal clinics and wildlife rehab centers.

~~~

The tiger in the photo on the cover of this book is a 4-month-old female surrendered to a Big Cat sanctuary in Texas. Phoenix was caught on camera feeding the youngster a turkey milkshake while performing volunteer work for the sanctuary.

~~~

Phoenix maintains a writing- and publishing-related blog at:
http://phoenixsullivan.blogspot.com

~~~

Her
Confessions of an Animal Junkie
blog features heartwarming stories about running her small farm in North Texas, what it meant to be a vet tech 30 years ago and how she’s learned to engage with the animals around her. She invites you to come share YOUR stories and pictures too.
http://animaljunkie.blogspot.com

~~~

You can also find Phoenix on Twitter @
phoenixsullivan

~~~

To find out more about Phoenix’s other books and to purchase direct from your favorite outlet, see the Steel Magnolia Press website at
www.steelmagnoliapress.com
.

~~~

Subscribe to
Fresh Leaves
, the Steel Magnolia Press newsletter, to be notified when
Vol
2
of the
Vet Tech Tales
series is out (planned release is April 2012) and to hear about other new releases and subscriber-only specials:
http://eepurl.com/gCgrX
.

(You can also subscribe from the Steel Magnolia Press website.)

S A M P L E

A near-future medical thriller ripped from today’s research and tomorrow’s headlines.

~~~

10,000 years ago a plague wiped out most of the world. It’s back.
Contagion
meets the science
of Jurassic Park
in this thriller for fans of Michael Crichton and Robin Cook.

~~~

A rise in stroke-like cases has CDC analyst Mike Shafer on alert. Patients in every demographic in the Great Plains area, from toddlers to healthy adults to the elderly, are succumbing to rapid deterioration – and death.

Veterinarian Donna Bailey, meanwhile, is dealing with an outbreak of her own. It looks like mad cow disease.
But to be affecting so many species?
Impossible.

Whatever it is, it’s spreading. Fast.

 
As state and federal agencies race to contain the growing threats, Mike and Donna’s searches for Patient Zero intersect at a big-game compound in a remote corner of North Dakota. There they find their answer buried in a secret thought extinct for 10,000 years. A secret entrepreneur Walt Thurman will kill to protect.

But even if Mike and Donna can escape the compound with the secret of Sector C, it may already be too late.

Because after today, extinct no longer means forever.

~~~

CHAPTER 1

VIKRAM SHANKAR SQUINTED DOWN the long metal barrel. Framed squarely in the sight, not two hundred feet away, the white tiger sat on its haunches, its lower jaw drooping, ribs rippling under a mat of chocolate-striped fur.

A sweet shot.

Vikram’s
right finger closed over the trigger. He inhaled slowly, deliberately. Too seasoned a hunter to let the thrill overcome judgment, he took his time, savoring the anticipation.

The nasal
whounk
-ing
of a snow goose flying overhead pricked the big cat’s ears, and the heavy-set head swung toward the sound. With pounding heart,
Vikram
exhaled.

The sight bead wavered. He glanced down, and realized his left arm had begun to tremble.

Hell. Not now.

He willed his arm still, but it jerked — wide — then jerked again. The barrel danced in front of him.

Something — whether the movement or some slight sound
Vikram
made — drew the cat’s attention. It rolled into a crouch, facing
Vikram’s
blind. Sunlight bouncing off the snow caught its blue eyes and they glistened like tanzanite as it peered into the camouflage.

The rifle steadied as
Vikram’s
muscle spasms quieted. Again he sighted down the barrel, waiting for another clean shot. As long as his arm cooperated, he could outwait the cat. And with two hundred thousand dollars on the line if he missed the kill, he could wait a very long time.

After a moment, the
tiger,
apparently satisfied no threat lurked behind the blind, rose, turned and padded across the snow. A slight drag to its hind leg appeared to be its only imperfection.
One that wouldn’t matter once it was mounted.
What mattered now was bringing it down with one swift shot.

A small veer and the cat presented perfectly.
Vikram
squeezed the trigger.

“Shit!” His left arm jerked the barrel aside just as the bullet lunged from its chamber. He was already setting up a second shot even as the tiger stumbled. A streak of blood bloomed across its shoulder. When the cat recovered two steps later,
Vikram
knew for certain the first bullet had only grazed it.

He tried to sight again, but again his left arm went out of control, this time slipping entirely off the barrel and flailing wildly.

“No!” His cry followed the retreating cat as it leapt through the snow.

The tiger arrowed toward the far end of the pen where the fence jutted rudely.
It hurled itself up, but the timbers, slanting sharply inward to prevent it from gaining a purchase, were too high to clear. It snarled as its heavy body fell back to the ground.

From the iron-barred blind,
Vikram
watched the cat —
his
cat — and cursed.

CHAPTER 2

THE WIRY KEEPER MONITORING the hunt flipped
open
his phone.
“Got a wounded tiger in Sector B.”

“Need help?”
came
a prompt reply.

“Nah.”
The keeper, Lim
Chiou
, watched the cat pacing the fence line. “I’ll
tranq
it and see what Mr. Shankar wants to do.” Hunters missed shots. Not frequently, but it happened. Lim didn’t think Mr. Shankar was the type of man who would want to shoot a tranquilized animal, but he
had
paid for the kill. Others had taken that cheap shot and then talked up the hunt at dinner, never admitting the circumstances of the actual kill. Many of the hunters here ran multi-billion-dollar companies and failure in any form — including just the
appearance
of failure —
was
not an option.

Lim grabbed the rifle leaning against the watchtower wall, scooped up three loaded darts and headed out. The
iron gate
swung closed behind him. He didn’t bother to bolt it. Not only was the tiger at the opposite end of the pen, but Lim counted heavily on the experience he’d gained in the Army Marksmanship Unit during active duty
a half
-dozen years ago. It had been a long time since he’d missed a shot of any kind.

He pushed his palm out toward the blind where
Vikram
still sat, cursing his arm, the cat and anything else that came to mind. “Stay there until he’s down. It may take a few minutes once he’s hit.” Gripping the rifle comfortably, Lim walked out a few hundred feet, stopping within easy range of the pacing cat, where he loaded a dart into the gun.

The tiger edged away from Lim, following the fence. Putting the rifle to his shoulder, the keeper took aim,
then
fired, looking for the dart to embed itself in the cat’s muscular flank.