Read Online Marooned in Manhattan by Sheila Agnew - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Sheila Agnew
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won’t it be way too expensive?’ I asked, worried.
Scott shook his head.
‘Not a problem. Don’t worry about it,’ and he showed me how to lead Bobbi back into her stall, with my right hand on the halter just below her neck and my left hand further down on the lead rope.
Back at the clinic, concerned owners and their pets took up every spare centimetre of space in the waiting room.
‘Dudley is first,’ said Karen, our new, part-time receptionist.
‘Hey!’ said a bald man in a short-sleeved Hawaiian shirt, walking up to the reception desk and waving his thick, muscular, hairy arms in Karen’s face. ‘What is going on here? I was here first.’
Karen eyed him coolly.
‘Except for appointments, we basically operate on a first-come first-served basis, but we have to see animals with a potentially critical or emergency condition first.’
‘My pet is in a critical condition,’ he complained.
Karen looked at him disbelievingly.
‘Your cat has a
skin
infection,’ she pointed out, loudly enough for everyone in the waiting room to hear. ‘While we, of course, take that very seriously, it is not something we would classify as requiring immediate or emergency assistance. The sooner you return to your seat, the sooner we will be able to move things along.’
The bald man stood his ground.
‘I am a very busy man. I don’t have the time to waste half a day here. What is it going to cost to get me bumped up?’ he said, pulling out a brown leather wallet.
Karen scribbled something on a card and handed it to him.
‘What is this?’ he asked.
‘It’s the address of the nearest vet, if you would like to go there.’
‘You can catch a cab right outside the door,’ she added.
The man slapped the white card back down on the reception desk and returned to his seat, muttering under his breath about ‘lousy service’. Karen winked at me and I smiled at her before heading into the examining room.
First up was Dudley, a ten-month old beagle puppy that had somehow managed to eat a packet of disposable lady razors. It was all the more bizarre considering that his owner, Mr Graham, is a ninety-one year old widower. He offeredno explanation and Scott asked for none. Second, we had an unidentifiable mutt who chased and caught her own tail, managing to break it. Next up, the bald Hawaiian shirt guy with his mangy cat and mangier attitude. He complained to Scott, ‘You should fire your receptionist, she has an attitude.’
Scott sighed. It had been a long morning.
‘Do I come around to your home uninvited and say you should fire your wife?’ Scott asked and, without waiting for an answer, added, ‘No, I don’t! If you don’t like my people, go somewhere else. Now, make up your mind, do you want me to treat your cat or not?’
The bald man looked sheepish. He said, ‘Sorry, I’m having a rough day and I’m more worried about my cat than I care to admit.’
Now it was Scott’s turn to look sheepish.
‘No need to apologise for loving your cat. Let’s get him up on the table and sort out his problem.’
Finally, after the bald man and his cat left, I watched Scott vaccinate an adorable litter of striped kittens.
‘Who have we got next?’ Scott asked Karen on the intercom, pulling off his latex gloves.
‘Greg Winters with his rabbit, Dr Pepper.’
In strolled a kid about my own age with a tall man with black hair streaked with silver, and silver rectangular-framed glasses. The man greeted Scott, and, taking
The New York Times
out of his briefcase said that he would wait in the waiting room. He didn’t look like a psychiatrist, I thought, and he has much better dress sense than my old psychologist,Mrs Scanlon. I shut the door to the waiting room behind me.
‘How have you been doing, Greg?’ Scott inquired.
‘Great, apart from my mosquito bites!’ said Greg and I noticed a bunch of swollen red hives on his legs.
‘And how about Finn?’ Scott asked.
‘He’s good too.’
Greg didn’t
Scott shook his head.
‘Not a problem. Don’t worry about it,’ and he showed me how to lead Bobbi back into her stall, with my right hand on the halter just below her neck and my left hand further down on the lead rope.
Back at the clinic, concerned owners and their pets took up every spare centimetre of space in the waiting room.
‘Dudley is first,’ said Karen, our new, part-time receptionist.
‘Hey!’ said a bald man in a short-sleeved Hawaiian shirt, walking up to the reception desk and waving his thick, muscular, hairy arms in Karen’s face. ‘What is going on here? I was here first.’
Karen eyed him coolly.
‘Except for appointments, we basically operate on a first-come first-served basis, but we have to see animals with a potentially critical or emergency condition first.’
‘My pet is in a critical condition,’ he complained.
Karen looked at him disbelievingly.
‘Your cat has a
skin
infection,’ she pointed out, loudly enough for everyone in the waiting room to hear. ‘While we, of course, take that very seriously, it is not something we would classify as requiring immediate or emergency assistance. The sooner you return to your seat, the sooner we will be able to move things along.’
The bald man stood his ground.
‘I am a very busy man. I don’t have the time to waste half a day here. What is it going to cost to get me bumped up?’ he said, pulling out a brown leather wallet.
Karen scribbled something on a card and handed it to him.
‘What is this?’ he asked.
‘It’s the address of the nearest vet, if you would like to go there.’
‘You can catch a cab right outside the door,’ she added.
The man slapped the white card back down on the reception desk and returned to his seat, muttering under his breath about ‘lousy service’. Karen winked at me and I smiled at her before heading into the examining room.
First up was Dudley, a ten-month old beagle puppy that had somehow managed to eat a packet of disposable lady razors. It was all the more bizarre considering that his owner, Mr Graham, is a ninety-one year old widower. He offeredno explanation and Scott asked for none. Second, we had an unidentifiable mutt who chased and caught her own tail, managing to break it. Next up, the bald Hawaiian shirt guy with his mangy cat and mangier attitude. He complained to Scott, ‘You should fire your receptionist, she has an attitude.’
Scott sighed. It had been a long morning.
‘Do I come around to your home uninvited and say you should fire your wife?’ Scott asked and, without waiting for an answer, added, ‘No, I don’t! If you don’t like my people, go somewhere else. Now, make up your mind, do you want me to treat your cat or not?’
The bald man looked sheepish. He said, ‘Sorry, I’m having a rough day and I’m more worried about my cat than I care to admit.’
Now it was Scott’s turn to look sheepish.
‘No need to apologise for loving your cat. Let’s get him up on the table and sort out his problem.’
Finally, after the bald man and his cat left, I watched Scott vaccinate an adorable litter of striped kittens.
‘Who have we got next?’ Scott asked Karen on the intercom, pulling off his latex gloves.
‘Greg Winters with his rabbit, Dr Pepper.’
In strolled a kid about my own age with a tall man with black hair streaked with silver, and silver rectangular-framed glasses. The man greeted Scott, and, taking
The New York Times
out of his briefcase said that he would wait in the waiting room. He didn’t look like a psychiatrist, I thought, and he has much better dress sense than my old psychologist,Mrs Scanlon. I shut the door to the waiting room behind me.
‘How have you been doing, Greg?’ Scott inquired.
‘Great, apart from my mosquito bites!’ said Greg and I noticed a bunch of swollen red hives on his legs.
‘And how about Finn?’ Scott asked.
‘He’s good too.’
Greg didn’t
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