bandwagon too,” he said. He pushed his fingers through his short brown hair. “You have to have a special permit to keep a wild animal, even for a few days. It wouldn’t be legal.”
“Legal, shmeegal,” Griff said. “No one needs to know.”
Squirm looked up at his father. “Please, Dad —”
Robin watched her father roll his lips back into his mouth.
Griff touched his arm. “Remember why you became a vet — to help animals.”
He made a huffing sound. “Okay, but you’re all sworn to secrecy. I don’t want my boss at the clinic finding out. He does everything by the book. Besides, if the authorities get a whiff of what we’re doing, we could be fined. They might even euthanize the bear.”
Squirm squinted up at his dad. “What’s ‘euthanize’?”
“Putting to sleep,” his father said.
“In other words, killing it,” Griff said, bunching her mouth so it looked like a fist.
Robin winced. “They can do that?”
Griff shook her head. “Wild animals don’t have rights, Robin. People can kill them at will. For any reason, any time.”
Squirm looked astonished. “Can they?”
“Not dogs and cats,” his father clarified as he injected a small needle into the bear’s front leg. The bear quickly went limp, and he laid the animal gently down in the straw.
“Thanks to the SPCA,” Griff added.
Squirm kept his eyes on Griff. “What’s the SPCA?”
“Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals,” Robin said. She only knew because she was reading a book on the SPCA for a book report. She’d expected the book to be boring but couldn’t put it down. The book talked about cats being skinned alive, horses being beaten to death, and a whole bunch of other terrible things that the SPCA had stopped. It was hard to read about but good to read about too.
Her father took some things from his medical bag. “Okay, I’ll set his arm and we’ll keep him, but only until the bone has healed. Then he’s going back to the wild. Is that clear?”
Robin nodded quickly. Squirm did too.
“And no more animals. A dog, nine puppies, and a bear is enough.”
Robin and Squirm shared a triumphant look and watched as their dad set the bear’s broken leg. “Besides, there’s not just the authorities we have to worry about, it’s the redneck hunters here as well.”
Squirm looked at Griff. “What’s a ‘redneck hunter’? Do they really have red necks?”
Griff laughed. “I think people who were originally called rednecks actually did have red necks because they worked in the fields — their necks got red from the sun.”
“A redneck would think it was nuts to set this bear’s arm,” his father said. “They’d say, ‘Let nature take its course.’”
Squirm looked confused. “Are the Kingshots rednecks?”
A smile played on Griff’s lips. “Bingo.”
After the bear’s arm was set in a small cast, the four worked at nailing some heavy fencing around the inside of the stall. Every once in a while, the little cub tried to lift its head, but it was too sedated to hold it up for long.
“I think he knows we’re here,” Robin said.
“I bet he can smell us,” Squirm said.
Griff laughed. “He can smell what you ate for breakfast three days ago.”
“I wish I could smell like that,” Squirm said.
They lapsed into silence. Robin thought about the soft thudding the bear’s heart had made.
“Do you think Conner really would have killed it?” she asked Griff.
Griff snorted. “Yes, I do.”
“You see that crossbow?” Squirm said. “It was deadly.”
Robin looked at Griff. She felt confused. “But you kill things….”
Griff spoke quietly. “Yes, but I do it with respect. And, I eat the meat. Besides, I’d never kill a baby !”
Her son added, “I don’t think any self-respecting hunter would.”
Griff continued. “The way I figure it, a wild animal would rather die out in nature from the quick bullet of my gun than be loaded into a truck and taken to an
“Legal, shmeegal,” Griff said. “No one needs to know.”
Squirm looked up at his father. “Please, Dad —”
Robin watched her father roll his lips back into his mouth.
Griff touched his arm. “Remember why you became a vet — to help animals.”
He made a huffing sound. “Okay, but you’re all sworn to secrecy. I don’t want my boss at the clinic finding out. He does everything by the book. Besides, if the authorities get a whiff of what we’re doing, we could be fined. They might even euthanize the bear.”
Squirm squinted up at his dad. “What’s ‘euthanize’?”
“Putting to sleep,” his father said.
“In other words, killing it,” Griff said, bunching her mouth so it looked like a fist.
Robin winced. “They can do that?”
Griff shook her head. “Wild animals don’t have rights, Robin. People can kill them at will. For any reason, any time.”
Squirm looked astonished. “Can they?”
“Not dogs and cats,” his father clarified as he injected a small needle into the bear’s front leg. The bear quickly went limp, and he laid the animal gently down in the straw.
“Thanks to the SPCA,” Griff added.
Squirm kept his eyes on Griff. “What’s the SPCA?”
“Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals,” Robin said. She only knew because she was reading a book on the SPCA for a book report. She’d expected the book to be boring but couldn’t put it down. The book talked about cats being skinned alive, horses being beaten to death, and a whole bunch of other terrible things that the SPCA had stopped. It was hard to read about but good to read about too.
Her father took some things from his medical bag. “Okay, I’ll set his arm and we’ll keep him, but only until the bone has healed. Then he’s going back to the wild. Is that clear?”
Robin nodded quickly. Squirm did too.
“And no more animals. A dog, nine puppies, and a bear is enough.”
Robin and Squirm shared a triumphant look and watched as their dad set the bear’s broken leg. “Besides, there’s not just the authorities we have to worry about, it’s the redneck hunters here as well.”
Squirm looked at Griff. “What’s a ‘redneck hunter’? Do they really have red necks?”
Griff laughed. “I think people who were originally called rednecks actually did have red necks because they worked in the fields — their necks got red from the sun.”
“A redneck would think it was nuts to set this bear’s arm,” his father said. “They’d say, ‘Let nature take its course.’”
Squirm looked confused. “Are the Kingshots rednecks?”
A smile played on Griff’s lips. “Bingo.”
After the bear’s arm was set in a small cast, the four worked at nailing some heavy fencing around the inside of the stall. Every once in a while, the little cub tried to lift its head, but it was too sedated to hold it up for long.
“I think he knows we’re here,” Robin said.
“I bet he can smell us,” Squirm said.
Griff laughed. “He can smell what you ate for breakfast three days ago.”
“I wish I could smell like that,” Squirm said.
They lapsed into silence. Robin thought about the soft thudding the bear’s heart had made.
“Do you think Conner really would have killed it?” she asked Griff.
Griff snorted. “Yes, I do.”
“You see that crossbow?” Squirm said. “It was deadly.”
Robin looked at Griff. She felt confused. “But you kill things….”
Griff spoke quietly. “Yes, but I do it with respect. And, I eat the meat. Besides, I’d never kill a baby !”
Her son added, “I don’t think any self-respecting hunter would.”
Griff continued. “The way I figure it, a wild animal would rather die out in nature from the quick bullet of my gun than be loaded into a truck and taken to an
Similar Books
