Storm Rescue Read online

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Acknowledgements

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Don’t Leave Your Best

  Hello!

  In our house we’ve always been prepared for big storms; blizzards or hurricanes, we’re ready for the worst. But when Hurricanes Katrina and Rita tore through the South, I realized that we weren’t completely prepared; we had to make emergency plans for our dog.

  Disasters are scary times for human beings, but at least we can listen to weather updates and know what to expect. Pets are often terrified by dangerous weather. The changes in atmospheric pressure affect them much more than us, and howling winds and rising water can send them into a panic.

  Our pets rely on us to be there for them in good times and in bad. We now have an emergency supply of food and medicine for our dog, and we’ve figured out what we would do with her if we were ever evacuated. I hope you will be bold and brave enough to do the same thing for your pet!

  Laurie Halse Anderson

  THE VET VOLUNTEER BOOKS

  Fight for Life

  Homeless

  Trickster

  Manatee Blues

  Say Good-bye

  Storm Rescue

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Thanks to Kimberly Michels, D.V.M.

  PUFFIN BOOKS

  Published by the Penguin Group

  Penguin Young Readers Group,

  345 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014, U.S.A.

  Penguin Group (Canada), 90 Eglinton Avenue East, Suite 700, Toronto, Ontario, Canada M4P 2Y3

  (a division of Pearson Penguin Canada Inc.)

  Penguin Books Ltd, 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England

  Penguin Ireland, 25 St Stephen’s Green, Dublin 2, Ireland (a division of Penguin Books Ltd)

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  (a division of Pearson Australia Group Pty Ltd)

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  (a division of Pearson New Zealand Ltd)

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  Registered Offices: Penguin Books Ltd, 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England

  First published in the United States of America by Pleasant Company Publications, 2000

  Published by Puffin Books, a division of Penguin Young Readers Group, 2008

  Copyright © Laurie Halse Anderson 2000, 2008

  All rights reserved

  LIBRARY OF CONGRESS CATALOGING-IN-PUBLICATION DATA

  Anderson, Laurie Halse.

  Storm rescue / Laurie Halse Anderson.

  p. cm.—(Vet volunteers ; #6)

  Summary: When a hurricane hits her town, Sunita must

  face her fears in order to help a stranded cat.

  eISBN : 978-0-142-41101-8

  The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any

  responsibility for author or third-party Web sites or their content.

  http://us.penguingroup.com

  To Catherine Hapka

  Chapter One

  What are you trying to do, Sunita?” Maggie MacKenzie asks as she flops down onto the deck beside me. “Turn that cat into a dog?”

  I tuck my long, dark hair behind one ear and grin at Maggie. “No way,” I say. “I like Lucy just the way she is!”

  I toss the small, squishy ball I’m holding. “Mwaaawr!” Lucy cries, and pounces on the ball, batting it with one paw as she rolls over onto her back. I expect her to twist around and whap the ball again. Instead, she just lies there for a second with all four paws straight up in the air.

  Maggie giggles. “I guess it’s too hot for playing ball today. Sherlock is acting even lazier than usual, too.”

  “I guess.” I stare at Lucy, a little surprised. Even though she’s thirteen years old, she’s almost always as playful as a kitten—not like Maggie’s basset hound, Sherlock Holmes, who is pretty lazy.

  Finally, Lucy rolls the rest of the way over, halfheartedly bats the ball—and gets tangled up in her leash.

  I reach for her. “Lucy, you love playing ball, remember?” I say, untangling her. Lucy’s leash and the harness it’s attached to are blue, just like her eyes. She blinks at me, then rubs her head against my chin to say thank you.

  Lucy is one of my favorite patients here at Dr. Mac’s Place, where I’m a volunteer. She’s a seal-point Siamese cat—that’s a breed of cat with a light-colored body and dark brown fur on its legs, tail, and face. The darker areas are called points.

  I love pet-sitting for Lucy when her owner, Mrs. Clark, goes out of town—even though Lucy is a big responsibility. She has diabetes. That means her body doesn’t produce a special protein called insulin. It turns food into glucose, a sugar that gives the body energy. So Lucy needs an injection of insulin twice a day to help regulate her body’s glucose level. Dr. Mac taught me how to give her the shots.

  I set Lucy down. “Mrrwowrr!” she says loudly. That’s another thing about Siamese cats. They’re really talkative.

  “Just goes to show.” Maggie blows a few tendrils of red hair off her face as she watches Lucy stalk the ball again. Maggie’s face is so red from the summer heat that her freckles hardly show at all. “There’s no point putting a leash on a cat.”

  I don’t bother to reply to that. It’s too hot to argue. It’s the Saturday before Labor Day, and the day of the clinic’s annual picnic. Every year, all the clinic’s patients are invited to celebrate the end of summer. Their owners are invited, too, of course.

  Maggie’s grandmother owns the clinic. Her name is Dr. J.J. MacKenzie, but most people just call her Dr. Mac. Maggie and her cousin Zoe call her Gran, though aside from her white hair, nobody would guess she was old enough to be a grandmother. She’s tall, wears bright T-shirts from The Gap, and never seems to stop moving. Right now she’s with her partner, Dr. Gabe, talking to some picnic guests with a pair of panting poodles.

  Personally, I’m glad Mrs. Clark taught her to walk on a leash. Lucy is the only cat at the whole picnic except for Dr. Mac’s big orange cat, Socrates. One woman brought her cockatoo and is walking around with the big white bird perched on her shoulder. Another owner has a pet rat peeking out of his shirt pocket. But otherwise, everywhere I look I see dogs, dogs, dogs. There must be thirty or forty dogs of all shapes and sizes in the clinic’s grassy, fenced-in backyard. I’m glad that Lucy and I are up on the deck, out of the way.

  Don’t get me wrong. I like almost all the animals that come to Dr. Mac’s Place—dogs, ferrets, rabbits, pigs, snakes, horses, hamsters, birds, and more. But I’ve always loved cats the most. There’s something about the way they move. Or maybe it’s the way they look at you, like they know everything you’re thinking.

  I’ve wanted a cat for so long that it’s hard to believe I finally have one of my own. Her name is Mittens, and I helped rescue her and her kittens. My mother and father made me find new homes for the kittens when they were old enough, but I got to keep Mittens.

  Having a cat is a lot of responsibility—I have to remember to keep her food and water bowls filled and clean out the litter box every day. But having a cat is also just as wonderful
as I always thought it would be. Mittens nuzzles my chin to wake me up in the morning, warms my lap while I read, and greets me at the door when I come home. What more could you ask for?

  I watch Lucy hunch down and wiggle her backside as she stares at her ball intently. “My father says today is a triple-H day,” I tell Maggie. “It’s hazy, hot, and humid.”

  Maggie nods and glances around. “Yeah. I’m glad we put out all those extra water bowls around the yard,” she says. “It would be easy for a dog to get dehydrated in this heat.”

  It’s no surprise that Maggie is more concerned about the animals at the picnic than the people. She loves animals as much as I do—especially dogs. Maggie can train almost any dog to do almost anything. She even taught Sherlock to put his food dish in the dishwasher. When she opens the door, he pulls out the lower rack and plops the dish in. It’s so cute!

  “Uh-oh,” Maggie says, holding out her hand and glancing up at the sky. “It’s sprinkling.”

  A drop hits Lucy and she flinches. That’s another reason I like cats. I don’t like water, either—especially when I can’t touch the bottom. In fact, I’m afraid of anything deeper than my bathtub.

  “I hope it doesn’t start raining harder and ruin the picnic. I was just about to get another hot dog,” Maggie says.

  “Blame it on Felix,” I say, hugging Lucy to me as another drop splashes on my arm.

  Maggie frowns. “Who?”

  “That’s the name of that hurricane that’s coming up the coast,” I explain, stepping back to stand under the overhang of the roof.

  Maggie ducks under the roof with me and says, “Oh, right, I saw that on the news this morning. But what does Hurricane Felix have to do with us? It’s way down in South Carolina or somewhere.”

  I’m about to answer, but just then Lucy wriggles in my arms. Letting out a little grunt, she pushes at me with her hind legs and tries to escape my grasp.

  “Lucy!” I say in surprise, putting her down. “What’s up, girl?” She loves being held almost as much as she loves playing with her ball. Why is she acting so weird?

  Lucy circles my legs once, shaking her wet paws after each step. Then she stands on her hind feet and hugs my leg with her two front paws.

  “Told you so,” I say, picking her up again.

  “Typical fickle cat,” Maggie kids, and pats Lucy on the head.

  “Hey,” David calls as he lopes up onto the deck.

  “Hi,” says Maggie. “Do you know if there are any more hot dogs?”

  David tosses his shaggy bangs out of his eyes and grins. “Sure, there’s one right there,” he says, pointing to a Labrador retriever lying on the grass below.

  I roll my eyes. David is always goofing around. Just about the only thing he’s ever serious about is horses. They’re his favorite animal, and he’s a really good rider, even though he’s only eleven, like Maggie and me.

  “... and there’s another one, and another one ... ” David continues to point out dogs.

  “Never mind,” Maggie mutters. “I’ll go see for myself. Want one, Sunita?”

  “Sure,” I say.

  David sits down on a bench. “It figures you’d find the one cat at the whole picnic, Sunita,” he says. “You’re like a cat magnet.”

  I smile but don’t bother to answer. I’m still watching Lucy. Her eyes are half closed and she seems content now, but there’s no hint of a purr.

  Soon Maggie returns, holding two hot dogs—or, rather, one and a half hot dogs. She’s already eaten half of hers. She pops the rest of it into her mouth and holds mine out to me. I blink at her, trying to figure out how to hold Lucy and eat the hot dog at the same time.

  Maggie chews and swallows. “Here,” she says. “I’ll hold Lucy while you eat.”

  I hesitate. I’m still a little worried about Lucy. I wonder if she could be sick. Whenever an animal’s behavior is different from usual, it could mean she’s not feeling well. That’s one of the first things that Dr. Mac taught us all when we started volunteering. Maybe I should mention this to her.

  My stomach grumbles, and I decide the decision can wait a minute or two. “Okay,” I say at last, handing Lucy over.

  Maggie perches on the bench beside David, settling Lucy on her lap. As I take a bite out of the hot dog, Brenna comes charging toward me leading Mercury, a huge black dog, along behind her. Brenna hardly ever walks at a normal pace. She has lots of energy, which comes in handy when there’s work to do at the clinic. And there’s always plenty of work to do at Dr. Mac’s Place. That’s why Dr. Mac invited the five of us—Maggie, Brenna, Zoe, David, and me—to volunteer here after school and in the summer.

  Lucy sees Mercury and hisses at him, showing all her teeth. Her long, slender dark brown tail twitches, and her ears flatten back against her head.

  “It’s okay, Lucy.” She leaps down from Maggie’s lap and retreats behind my legs. I glance at Maggie and shrug. Lucy’s not too crazy about big dogs. I don’t blame her.

  “Have you seen the dog biscuits?” Brenna asks breathlessly. Her long brown hair is escaping from its ponytail, and she looks just as hot as the rest of us. “I just taught Mercury how to sit up and beg, and I want to reward him.”

  “Good boy, Mercury!” David says, giving Mercury a quick scratch on the head.

  I stand up and keep a cautious eye on Mercury. He’s awfully big—a rottweiler mix. I like dogs, but I prefer them on the smaller side. Mercury stares at my hot dog with his huge pink tongue hanging out of his mouth. I take a step backward.

  Mercury takes a step toward me. He pulls his tongue into his mouth for a second, making a slurping sound. Then his jaw falls open again. He has an awful lot of teeth. I stare at him, hoping that Brenna has a tight hold on the leash.

  David notices my expression and laughs at me. “Don’t be so worried, scaredy-cat!” he says. “He just wants your hot dog.”

  “Um, I know.” I keep my gaze on Mercury. What if he jumps at me and knocks me down?

  “Brenna, I think Mrs. Creighton’s terriers ate all the biscuits. Check inside for more,” says Maggie.

  “Thanks.” Brenna takes off again, with Mercury trotting along behind her. Even with his long legs, the dog has to hurry to keep up.

  I’m relieved to see them go. I sigh and put my hot dog down. I’m not really hungry anymore.

  “What’s up, Sunita?” Maggie asks, handing Lucy back to me.

  “Nothing,” I reply, cuddling Lucy.

  Just then I see Dr. Mac heading toward the deck. A slim, well-dressed elderly woman with bluish-white hair is with her. “There you are, Sunita,” Dr. Mac says when she reaches us.

  “How are my girls?” Mrs. Clark says, giving me a friendly smile and her cat a rub under the chin. I love the way Mrs. Clark’s greenish-brown eyes sparkle—it makes her look happy and wise and curious, all at the same time. “How’s everything going? Is Lucy giving you any trouble?”

  “Not exactly,” I say, glancing from Dr. Mac to Mrs. Clark and back again. I quickly explain Lucy’s odd behavior.

  “That doesn’t sound like her at all,” Mrs. Clark agrees.

  “Do you think we should check her glucose level?” I ask Dr. Mac.

  “That’s exactly what we should do, Sunita. Good call,” she says. “Bring her on in.”

  Chapter Two

  I follow Dr. Mac and Mrs. Clark into the Herriot Room and place Lucy on the exam table. I’ve helped Dr. Mac perform glucose tests on Lucy and other animals lots of times before. But right now I’m a little nervous. What if Lucy is having some kind of complication because of her diabetes? She is getting kind of old.

  “All right, Lucy. Are you ready?” Dr. Mac says, and calmly approaches the Siamese with a needle.

  I move forward and hold Lucy gently in place. Dr. Mac inserts the needle into a vein in Lucy’s neck and draws the blood she’ll need for the test. Lucy hardly moves.

  “Brave girl,” I say.

  When she’s finished drawing the blood, Dr. Mac gives Luc
y a pat, then puts the blood sample into a centrifuge. That’s a machine that separates the solid part of the blood—the red and white blood cells—from the fluid part. The clear-looking fluid is called serum, and it’s the part that gets tested for its glucose level.

  “When did she have her last meal, Esther?” Dr. Mac asks as she works.

  “This morning at eight, as usual,” Mrs. Clark replies. “She ate it all, like a good girl. She’s been eating very well lately.”

  That’s a good thing. In addition to giving her daily insulin injections, Mrs. Clark also has to be extra careful about what Lucy eats. She feeds her a special high-fiber, low-fat cat food in several small meals a day, instead of just leaving dry food down all the time like I do for Mittens. It’s really important for diabetic cats to get regular meals as well as regular injections. Otherwise their sugar levels can get all messed up, and that can put their lives in danger.

  I stroke the cat as Dr. Mac works. Lucy finally starts to purr, stretching out first her front and then her back legs so that her claws extend, then rolling onto her side and tilting her chin up for me to scratch. I smile, figuring that’s all a good sign.

  Sure enough, when Dr. Mac finishes with Lucy’s tests, she tells Mrs. Clark, “Her sugar is fine.”

  “Oh, good,” Mrs. Clark says with a smile. She picks up Lucy and hugs her. “Ready to go, sweet-heart?”

  “There are plenty of hot dogs left,” I say, hoping Mrs. Clark will stay so I can hang out with Lucy a little longer.

  “Thanks, but this damp weather isn’t good for my old bones,” Mrs. Clark says. “Or Lucy’s, either. We’re going to go home and try to stay dry.”

  Dr. Mac and I walk Mrs. Clark out to the reception area. Mrs. Clark settles her bill while Lucy sits on the counter, washing her face. Then Mrs. Clark picks up her cat. “Okay, girl,” she says. “Let’s get going before the storm gets any worse.”

  “You know how I feel about you driving with Lucy, Esther,” Dr. Mac says. “Why don’t I lend you a cat carrier for the ride home?”