Acting Out Read online

  But no one says anything until: “Time for me to head to bed,” Gran says, pushing back from the table. “I’ll call the family first thing in the morning.”

  “That’s going to be a hard phone call,” Maggie says.

  “Indeed.”

  Maggie twists her napkin. Gran crosses her arms over her chest and sighs again. I look from one to the other.

  “What?” I can’t stand it any longer. “Why will this be so hard? Their cat is already dead. How could they feel worse?” I ask.

  “Because their cat ingested poison,” Maggie says.

  “I know that.”

  “Ethylene glycol,” Maggie says. “They may have unintentionally poisoned their own cat.”

  “What? Okay. Will someone please explain to me exactly what ethylene glycol is and where the family would have gotten it?” Honestly, I’m so frustrated I could scream!

  Maggie looks at me like I haven’t got a brain in my head. “Ethylene glycol. It’s most often used as antifreeze for cars. Puff probably licked it up from their own garage floor or driveway.”

  I look to Gran to see if this is true. She nods and says, “It’s dangerous, attractive, and sweet. Even a little can cause death to household pets. Sometimes it drips from the car and puddles on the garage floor or driveway.”

  Maggie takes the plates and bowls to the sink. “I’m tired,” she says. “I’m heading to bed.”

  Gran nods. She looks tired, too. Then she yelps, “Oh!”

  “What?” I can’t imagine what Gran has just thought of.

  “I can’t wait until morning to call. They have young children.”

  “So, wouldn’t they be in bed by now?” I ask and glance at the clock. “I’m sure their mom wouldn’t wake them up to tell them how Puff died.”

  “Children can also be poisoned from antifreeze. Remember, I told you it’s sweet. I can’t take the chance that those kids are in bed now or that they won’t be up early tomorrow. I wouldn’t be able to sleep if I didn’t call that mother and tell her. She can take a flashlight and look for a leak tonight.” Gran goes to the phone and dials. I hear her explaining things to the mother as I run some water in the sink to soak the dishes.

  As I’m cleaning up, I start to wonder if I can help in some way. There is a tickling of an idea at the back of my brain. I know if I sleep on it, I’ll figure it out. At least, I hope so. I write a few notes to myself about research for tomorrow and tumble into bed, exhausted.

  Chapter Five

  Despite my late bedtime, I’m on the computer researching antifreeze facts before Gran is even up. My thoughts were churning so much, I woke up earlier than usual. There’s a ton of information about antifreeze online, but more people need to know about it. I think the Vet Volunteers could be the ones to get the word out to as many people in Ambler as possible. I wonder what the best way to do that would be. I should discuss it with Maggie. Wait—I look at the clock. It’s not even six a.m. yet. I better not bother Maggie. She’s such a grouch in the morning, and she went to bed late, too. I decide to check my email while I’m waiting. Maybe Mom has written. It’s been four days since she checked in. Not that I’m counting or anything.

  She has! I click on the email.

  Six lines.

  Hi, Zoe,

  Lots of late nights and early calls here. The weather has been interfering with shooting, but the week ahead promises to be better. At least the cast is fabulous, especially my new friend, James. Say hello to Maggie and Mom for me.

  We’ll talk soon. Love you!

  Mom

  I feel deflated. She didn’t even ask anything about me. I know she knows I’m safe with Gran, but come on! Isn’t she curious to know what I’m up to? Doesn’t she worry about whether or not I’m happy? And why doesn’t she give me more details? This independent movie in Vancouver should be the biggest thing that’s ever happened to her. Well, except for having me. She should be telling me about the production. The set. The costumes. She should be sharing silly actor gossip with me, not just telling me she has a friend James. She should be wishing I was there with her.

  I don’t hit reply. I’m too angry. I print out my research notes and turn off the computer. I’ll deal with Mom’s less-than-an-email later. First I’ll make breakfast for everyone. Quiche. I have a great recipe that uses spinach and low-fat cottage cheese. It’s bound to make me feel better, and then I won’t have to watch Gran and Maggie chomping on Pop-Tarts.

  As I whisk the eggs and chop the spinach, I start to feel a little calmer. While the quiche bakes, I scrub the kitchen until it shines. The sun is streaming in the windows when Gran and Maggie come into the kitchen. Because it’s Saturday, the clinic doesn’t open until noon today, so we’re able to have a relaxing breakfast before Gran needs to run errands.

  “That was delicious, Zoe.” Gran smiles as I wrap up the leftover quiche. “Now, who wants to help me with my errands?”

  “I’ll come,” Maggie says, looking at me. I pass because I want to think about the antifreeze problem a little more before I bring Maggie and the Vet Volunteers into it all. And I need to decide how to reply to my mother.

  “See you in a couple hours,” Gran says.

  Maggie just waves good-bye, but she acts kind of bouncy, like she might be happy that I’m staying behind. Hmm. Does she want Gran to herself? I suppose that’s possible. Now that I’m back, I guess they haven’t really had any time without me. I might just be imagining things, but my good mood from breakfast is over.

  I go over my notes and research for about an hour more. I still don’t know what to say to Mom so I leave that whole issue alone. Instead, I decide to go over to David’s house to check on Rover. Maybe Brian will be there, too. That would cheer me up. Plus, I’m looking particularly cute today. I have on my skinniest jeans and my teal chiffon blouse. Mom always says that teal brings out my eyes.

  But Brian isn’t home. Can’t win ’em all.

  “I’m babysitting Ashley again,” David says as I step inside. “Brian’s at work and Mom’s shopping. I’m allowed to make peanut-butter-and-jelly cookies. Want some?”

  I can’t imagine what peanut-butter-and-jelly cookies are, but I say yes because Ashley is standing there grinning and rubbing her tummy like a cartoon character.

  “Sure. How long do they take to bake?” I ask. The kitchen is spotless. I can only imagine what kind of mess David will make if he bakes cookies.

  “They don’t get baked,” Ashley says, swinging on the cupboard door. “They get maked.”

  “Maked, huh?”

  “She’s right,” David says, gently nudging Ashley out of the way so he can reach into the cupboard. He pulls out a jar of peanut butter and a package of vanilla wafer cookies. “They get maked. Er—made.”

  David finds the jelly in the refrigerator and pulls a butter knife from the drawer. Ashley has a stack of plastic plates in her arms.

  “Too many, kiddo,” David says. “We just need three.”

  Ashley puts some of the plates back and leaves maybe four or five on the counter.

  David smiles at her and starts spreading peanut butter on some wafers and jelly on others. “Go ahead, do your part,” he says to her.

  “I make them the best,” Ashley says as she squishes the wafers together to form peanut-butter-and-jelly cookies.

  They are a little drippy from too much jelly, but otherwise, surprisingly good. David pours us each a glass of milk, and when we’re done, he cleans up. I’m impressed. Maybe David has grown up a little since I left.

  Full and satisfied, with just a little bit of jelly on her shirt, Ashley skips off to play in her room. It’s just David and me now. I got so caught up in the cookies that I almost forgot why I came here in the first place.

  “How is Rover?” I ask.

  “About the same. Come see.” David leads the way to his room. Rover is curled up on David’s bed. He doesn’t react when David pets him.

  “Poor Rover,” I whisper. “You didn’t bring him to the
clinic, did you?” I probably would have noticed if he had, but maybe they came when I was out of the house.

  “Not yet. He started looking better, but then he went back to being lethargic.”

  “Gran should be back by now. Don’t you think you ought to have her take a peek?”

  “Maybe.” David looks uneasy.

  I don’t want to worry him too much, but this is important. “We got Puff’s results back. It turns out she was poisoned by antifreeze. Maybe that’s not what’s happening to Rover, but it would be better to figure it out sooner rather than later.” I watch David’s face. He lowers his head. His shaggy bangs hide his eyes.

  “Okay, let’s take him in,” he agrees.

  I go to pick up Rover, but he slinks away. He moves toward the door. I don’t want to scare him so I follow slowly. But he keeps on moving right out the door and down the hall.

  “Sorry,” I say to David. I wish Sunita or Jules was here. I’m much better with dogs than I am with cats. We watch as Rover disappears into Ashley’s room.

  “Hi, Rover, wanna play dress up?” we hear her ask.

  “No, Ashley!” David calls. “Don’t you dare. He might be sick.”

  We go to her door. Ashley is on the floor, surrounded by her dolls and stuffed animals.

  “I can’t anyway,” she says. “He’s under my bed.”

  And that’s where he stays—as far away as possible—way beneath the farthest corner of Ashley’s bed. Did I scare Rover? I was just trying to help him.

  David and I sit on the floor beside Ashley’s bed, amongst all of her stuffed friends, and try to figure out what to do.

  “I don’t think we ought to reach in there,” I say, lifting the bedspread and looking under the bed. “He’s backed himself into the corner and his fur is bristly. He looks afraid enough to bite.”

  “Okay, we’ll leave him alone for a bit,” David says, and I let the bedspread fall back.

  Ashley gives me a teacup and a cookie, both made of plastic. Next she hands the same to David. He quickly puts his on her floor like he doesn’t know what to do with them.

  “No, David, do it the way you’re supposed to,” Ashley chastises.

  Supposed to? Sounds like they’ve done this before. David blushes. I bet he doesn’t want me to know he plays tea party with his sister. He takes a small, pretend sip.

  “Come on, the right way!” Ashley says. “The right way,” she repeats.

  David holds the teacup in one hand and extends his pinky. Oh my gosh, he has done this before. He takes a sip and makes a teensy, almost proper, sipping sound. With his other hand, he takes the fake cookie and dunks it daintily into the plastic teacup and then…he gobbles, gobbles, gobbles as loud as he can, just like Cookie Monster.

  “Cookie, cookie, cookie!” he growls.

  Ashley falls over laughing. “That’s the right way!” she says. I can tell this is a favorite game for both of them.

  “Nice work, Hutchinson, nice work,” I say. David blushes. I pretend not to notice and gobble my cookie, too. I’m not as loud as David, but Ashley still laughs.

  “You’re not going to mention this to any of the guys at school, are you?” he asks.

  “Wouldn’t dream of it,” I say.

  That’s when we notice that Rover is panting. From beneath the bed, his breathing is quick and fairly loud. David looks under the bed, clicks his tongue, and calls softly, “Come on, Rover, nck, nck, nck.” I can tell that he’s alarmed but that he doesn’t want to upset Ashley.

  “You sound like you’re trying to get a horse’s attention,” I say. “Try this: Ppsss, ppsss, ppsss.” I wiggle my fingers at Rover.

  Rover looks at us but stays put.

  My mind is racing. Rover doesn’t look like he’s in really bad shape like Puff did, but I really want to get him to the clinic. “Maybe we can move the bed away from the wall and you can reach him,” I suggest.

  “You can use my stuffed animals like a fence so he can’t get by,” Ashley suggests. “If you use the biggest ones it should work.”

  “Great idea,” David says. “Of course, if Rover actually felt fine, a fence of stuffed animals wouldn’t be anything to him. He’d sail right through.”

  But the way Rover looks now he’s unlikely to even hop over Ashley’s Barbie dolls. Ashley and I gather up all the dolls and stuffed animals from the floor. She lays on her stomach and scoots halfway under the bed. David hands her the toys one by one to build the fence.

  “Get the pet carrier before we move the bed,” I say. “Then we can tuck him right into it.” David nods and goes to fetch the carrier from downstairs.

  Ashley and I finish setting up the stuffed-animal fence. It begins under the bed and makes a path for Rover to follow.

  David returns with the carrier and closes the door behind him. “So he doesn’t escape,” he explains.

  I guide Ashley away from the bed. “Stay beside me while David gets Rover, okay?” Ashley’s eyes are huge, but she just nods and holds the carrier, open and ready. David gets into position to move the bed. I’m crouched down with my hands ready to scoop Rover up as soon as he does. I sure hope this works.

  David counts, “One…two…three…” and he lifts. Rover is curled into a tight ball. The cat gets to his feet and looks around, but he’s stopped by the stuffed animals. I bend down and pick him up before he can figure out what’s going on. Ashley holds the carrier door open and I slip Rover in.

  “Whew. No problem at all.” David looks relieved.

  “Let’s head over,” I say.

  “Can I come? Can I come?” Ashley begs.

  “We couldn’t have done it without you. You’d better come,” David says. Then he turns to me and whispers, “I’m babysitting, she has to come.”

  True, there is nobody to stay with her here. Mrs. Hutchinson is still gone, and Brian hasn’t showed up, either. Looks like I wasted one of my best outfits on a tea party and a cat rescue.

  Chapter Six

  In the Dolittle Room, Gran checks Rover all over. She listens to his heartbeat and breathing with her stethoscope. Rover sleeps through this part. Gran gently feels every inch of him. I know she is checking his skeleton and also checking for any odd lumps or bumps he might have. She checks his reflexes, which wakes him up. The tapping of Gran’s tiny rubber hammer must be hard to ignore. She looks in Rover’s ears, eyes, and mouth with her scope. She’s checking for mites and signs of infection.

  “Will he be all right?” David asks worriedly. “Did his heart sound okay? His reflexes worked, right?”

  I put my hand on David’s elbow. He takes a deep breath and stops asking questions. With my other hand, I squeeze Ashley’s shoulder. She’s being surprisingly quiet and well-behaved during the exam. Maybe doctor’s offices make her nervous.

  Gran continues her exam. She listens to Rover’s lungs and heart again.

  “I’m not sure what is making Rover so sluggish.” Gran flips her stethoscope back up around her neck. “I’m going to do some blood work to see if I can get some answers. I’d like to keep Rover overnight so I can keep an eye on him.”

  David looks pale. “Do you think it’s serious?”

  “When an animal suddenly becomes lethargic—that is cause for concern. Animals slow down as they age, just like people do. But Rover isn’t very old, so sudden changes in behavior absolutely need to be checked out.” Gran pats David on the shoulder.

  “What about antifreeze? Zoe said that kitten died from it.”

  “I’m including that test in the blood work.”

  I wish I could make David feel better. I turn to him and say reassuringly, “So it’s good you brought him in, then.” He looks at me and half-smiles.

  Gran picks up Rover. “David, do you want me to call your mother, or can you convey this all to her?”

  “I’ll tell her. It’s fine.” David scratches Rover under his chin, waves to me, and leaves the exam room. I see Ashley take David’s hand as they walk out of the clinic.

 
Before we can finish sanitizing the exam room, we have an emergency. Seconds after we hear the jingle of the door and panicked voices, we rush out to reception. It’s a dog, vomiting and making a horrible crying sound. Gran passes Rover off to me. “Cage six, far from the kittens,” she says, turning to this new dog and taking him into the Herriot Room. I hear her send his family into the waiting room.

  I quickly put Rover in his cage, making sure to tuck a warm towel in with him. It’ll keep him warm and should comfort him, too. I latch the door and head quickly to the Herriot Room.

  The dog is beautiful—or should be. He’s a chocolate Lab with short deep-brown hair, and he must weigh about a hundred pounds. But he looks so weak. Luckily, Gran is the best vet around here, so he’s in good hands now.

  Gran is listening to the dog’s breathing and heartbeat. “Call Maggie to help with the family,” she instructs.

  “Do you want me to get their information?”

  “No, I need you here. Call Maggie,” Gran says without looking up from the poor animal. I’m totally focused on the dog, but I can’t help thinking that it’s nice to feel needed.

  I call our home line from the clinic phone. Before I can get back to Gran, Maggie is rushing in to work with the family. She’ll get the dog’s health history and more information on what happened before they brought him here.

  Back in the Herriot Room, things look bad. The dog is still throwing up. Yuck, I will never get used to that. I whisk away the gross cloths and replace them with clean ones. I stand back, wondering what else I can do. But I know not to ask questions, that Gran will let me know what she needs.

  Maggie scoots in the room. “Three-year-old Lab. Been throwing up for a few hours. They said he looked drunk earlier. They imagined it was just something he ate. But he started crying about a half hour ago and walking stiffly so they decided to bring him in. Oh, his name’s Jinx. Do you want me to get his dad?”

  “Yes,” Gran says, “this is a very sick dog.”

  “Reminds me of Puff,” I say.