Page 21 of The Vet from Snowy River
‘Nice try, hotshot.’ She turned her head and called over her shoulder. ‘Sarma? This is Dr Cody. He’s going to take a look at your pet.’
He sighed. ‘There better be some more beans in that jar when I next come out here, Sandy, that’s all I’m saying.’
She gave him a pat on the shoulder like he was a truculent toddler. ‘Bank and jellybeans, you leave it with me. I won’t be long.’
She headed out to the street with the haste of an army retiring from battle, and he turned to the kid, who’d stood up, and was now looking at him with hope in her eyes and a plastic bag clutched to her front. When had Poppy last looked at him like that … like he could solve every problem and would never disappoint her?
Had it been weeks? Months? Certainly not since he’d first brought up the idea of moving back to Hanrahan. He had to believe he’d made the right decision, moving home. It would just be a hell of a lot easier to believe if Poppy would agree to pay him a visit.
‘Can you fix my fish, Dr Cody?’
He gave the kid a reassuring smile. ‘Call me Josh. I hope so.’
‘I put my moneybox on the counter. I dunno how much is in there, because my brother took the key when he was torturing me.’
‘Oh? Your brother torture you often?’
The girl rolled her eyes. ‘Do sheep have dirty butts?’
He grinned. Sarma, whoever she was, had a flair for the dramatic. ‘You know, I have a sister, too. I used to play all sorts of pranks on her when we were little.’
She stopped sniffling long enough to look up at him. ‘Oh yeah? Like taking her teddy bears and tying them to pretend train tracks and sending her ransom notes? That kind of stuff?’
He steered her into the last treatment room and wrestled the plastic bag from her sweaty grip. ‘Exactly that kind of stuff.’
‘Huh.’
‘You know what my sister did to me once?’ he said.
‘No. What?’
‘Put a lizard in my bed.’
She giggled. ‘No way.’
‘Yes way. Not that I’m recommending you do the same, mind you. Now, what,’ he said, holding the bag up to the light, ‘seems to be the problem with this fish?’
‘Starsha.’
‘Excuse me?’
‘That’s her name. Starsha. She’s not eating her food, and she’s just doing nothing.’
‘Let’s get her out of this bag. Fish breathe oxygen out of the water, and there’s not enough water in this bag to keep her going for long. We can use a glass snake tank for the time being, but this is where we need to have a serious talk.’
‘About dying?’
Josh cleared his throat. He’d forgotten how direct young kids could be.
‘Yes. Your goldfish—Starsha—is not my usual kind of patient. Fish are tricky to treat because we can’t take an x-ray of them, or feel their muzzle to see if they’re dehydrated, or listen to their heart with a stethoscope … that sort of thing.’
Did fish evenhavehearts? He wondered how unprofessional it would look if he turned to his computer and googledHow to tell if my goldfish is alive.
‘Just do your best, Josh.’ Sarma sat herself in a chair and looked at him expectantly, her eyelashes wet with tears.
He sighed. Water. Neutralising agent. No sudden change of temperature. That would have to do for a start. He ran his eyes over the row of textbooks and science journals stacked in the shelving above the desk and settled on the battered copy ofThe Australian and New Zealand Vet Companion.
He flicked the child a look. ‘Can you read, Sarma?’
