Dr. Thatcher made his rounds in the shelter checking on the animals while he put out their food. He had just fed the fish when his new assistant entered the building. He placed the fish food on the shelf under the aquarium, and turned to greet the newbie. "Good morning, Mr. Nolan."
"Good morning," Nolan replied, "you can call me David, though," He glanced around the lobby while Dr. Thatcher walked around the counter to retrieve a scrub top.
He tossed the scrub over to David, "Here put this on over your shirt. It'll help protect your clothes. Things get messy around here."
"Right," David said and slipped the scrub over his head.
Dr. Thatcher started walking toward the back rooms, "I'll show you around now," David followed. "We have a room where I keep the cats, and there are two small examination rooms," the veterinarian pointed down the hall, "The dogs are kept outside in covered kennels, and here," he opened the door, "is the bird room." There were two large cages in the middle of the room where parrots and macaws were kept. Parakeets, finches, and other small birds were in the cages that lined the walls. The doctor opened the door to the parrots' cage. He lifted up a green South American parrot. Its tail feathers were green with a red feather in the middle, and yellow tips on its wings. To David it looked as though the bird was wearing yellow gloves. Dr. Thatcher carried the bird to the examining room.
"This bird's name is Peppi," he told David, "I'm going to show you how to clip talons." Dr. Thatcher got the clippers out of the drawer. Peppi stood on the examine table patiently waiting. When the bird saw that Dr. Thatcher had the clippers he picked up one of his feet and waved it at the doctor.
"He seems to like to have his nails done," David observed.
"Yes, Peppi is a good bird," Dr. Thatcher continued to clip the bird's nails.
The parrot whistled, "Good bird," Peppi repeated. David let out a chuckle. Throughout the process the mild mannered bird was in good spirits, whistling a little tune while his nails were being trimmed.
"That's it," Dr. Thatcher said when he finished.
"Is it always that easy?" David asked.
"Most of the time," the doctor answered as they walked back to the bird room. Dr. Thatcher put Peppi back in the cage," Now it's your turn. Why don't you get Jake here?" The vet motioned to a red parrot with blue tipped wings.
"Okay," David agreed. "Jake looks kind of fat," he said as he got him out of the cage.
Dr. Thatcher smiled, "He is at his top weight. We have to monitor his food intake carefully."
David took Jake back to the examine room. The bird started to get a little apprehensive. It was then that Dr. Thatcher said, "Uh, I'm going to take care of some things while you're tending to Jake. Do you think you can handle it?"
Not wanting to disappoint his boss on his first day David answered, "Sure I got this. Go ahead and do what you need to do."
"Alright, if you need anything just let me know," Dr. Thatcher left the room shutting the door behind him.
"Okay, Jake let's get your nails done," David picked up the clippers.
As soon as the bird saw what was going to happen he started squawking and flew off the table. The mischievous bird perched himself on top a tall cabinet that was shoved against the corner of the room. David could see the parrot peeking over the side to see if he was going after him then the bird would retreat back. David searched for something to stand on. He found a short step latter. Determined to get the bird, he climbed up, and saw the aggravating feathered beast huddled in the corner and reached for it. He didn't think the bird had enough room to take off, but the little rascal proved him wrong. Jake did a few swoops around the room. David took off the scrub Dr. Thatcher had given him that morning then chased the bird around the room with it, like a child chasing a butterfly with a net. The bird dodged him at every turn. It tried to land on the cabinet again, but David snapped the scrub at him, hitting his tail feathers. The fowl was getting tired and he landed on the table.
While the parrot was sitting, and catching its breath, David quietly snuck up on it. Then he threw the shirt on top it and cupped his hands around it. The bird was so tired it didn't put up a fight. David laid the bird down on its back, and carefully uncovered its beak so it could breathe. He could feel Jake's heart pounding through the shirt. David fixed the scrub to where he could pin the bird's wings down with it. He took a deep breath, and picked up the clippers, "Now let's try this again shall we?"
Out in the waiting room Dr. Thatcher was taking inventory of the pet food that was for sale. The door chimed the vet turned around to welcome the client, "Hello, Jefferson," he noticed Jefferson held a cat carrier in his hand, "Is there something wrong with the cat you adopted?"
Jefferson placed the carrier on the counter. "Well I'm not sure," the eccentric nightclub owner grimaced, "Chester seems like he's not all there."
"Let's see what we can do for him. Follow me into the examine room." Dr. Thatcher took the British short hair, and placed him on the examination table.
Just then there was screaming from across the hall, "Damn it! Leave me alone! Squawk! Help me, Charles, help me!"
Jefferson turned his head toward the screeching. "What is that?"
"Oh, that's nothing. Just a cantankerous parrot that, as you can hear, hates having his nails trimmed. I apologize for the profanity." Dr. Thatcher continued to examine the silver tabby.
Jefferson watched intensely as the vet performed his diagnostics while he endured the shrieking and vulgarities coming from the other examine room, "Why does the bird call out for Charles? Who is he?"
"I have no idea. Maybe it was his owner before?" Dr. Thatcher shrugged.
"So, you've thrown your new hire to the wolves, or rather the foul mouth fowl," Jefferson flashed an impish grin.
The doctor looked up and gave a half smile to Jefferson. "Chester's healthy he just needs a vitamin B shot." Dr. Thatcher filled a syringe and gave the cat the shot.
In examination room B, the veterinarian assistant was finishing up. "Just one more and we're done," he pressed down on the clippers. "There," David breathed a sigh of relief, and put the instrument of torture down on the table beside the bird. While releasing the bird from the scrub he got his hand little too close to the disgruntle bird's beak. Jake took the opportunity to bite the mess out of Mr. Nolan's knuckle. "Ouch!" he said letting out some swears of his own. David turned around to wash and doctor his hands, leaving Jake unattended. The bird spied the clippers lying near him. He looked around innocently then grabbed the clippers with his foot and slid them across the table into the trash can. David turned back around facing the exam table he looked down and noticed the nail clippers were missing, Jake looked away whistling merrily. Nolan was too tired to search for them so he shrugged it off. "Let's get you back to your buddies."
He had just completed his task when Dr. Thatcher approached him, "Come with me," the vet led him to a storage room. It was filled with boxes, rolls of paper towels, boxes of rubber gloves, and other supplies stacked around a large crate. A heavy musky scent hung in the air.
David placed a hand on a stack of boxes. "Do you want me to help you get supplies?"
The vet stood by the wooden crate. "No, not right now, thanks for offering. Are you afraid of snakes?"
Nolan was still in the dark as to why the doctor had pulled him into the supply closet. He shook his head, "No. Why?"
"Could you help me get this lid off, please?" he asked an unsuspecting David.
The assistant took hold of one side of the lid while the veterinarian took the other they lifted the top off together. When David got a glimpse of what was inside he let out a yelp and jumped back. "I thought you weren't afraid of snakes?" the doctor teased.
Nolan recovered, "I'm not, but that isn't a snake. That's a monster!"
"Actually it's a python reticulatus," Dr. Thatcher reached into the crate, "David, grab hold. Be careful. Though he maybe lethargic, you never know when he'll get a sudden burst of energy." The doctor waited until his assistant found a handle on the snake. "I just need to pull him out part way." They laid the snake on top of a stack of boxes that were even with the crate. "He has a major sinus infection and hasn't been eating any of the nutria I've laced with antibiotics, so I have to give it to him intravenously," Dr. Thatcher said and then plunged the antibiotic into the serpent.
David was holding the snake's head down, covering its eyes. The reptile suddenly blew out a wad of thick mucus some of it landed on David's hand and shirt. "Thank goodness you gave me this scrub this morning," he said as he looked down at the snotty mess. Dr. Thatcher took out a couple of napkins from his pocket, cleaned the python off then changed positions with his assistant so David could clean himself up. They then placed the snake back in its container.
When they emerged from the back rooms they were surprised to see someone in the entrance area, "Hello, Marco. We didn't hear you come in we were tending to Monty," Dr. Thatcher explained. He then motioned toward David, "This is my new assistant, David Nolan." Thatcher then motioned toward the elder, "Marco is the town's faithful and talented handyman."
Marco waved off the compliments. "I enjoy the work. Ah, that is why I have stopped by," he handed over the rolled up papers he had in his hand to Dr. Thatcher. "I've brought you the blue prints. I thought you might want to look them over."
"Thank you," the vet walked over to the receptionist desk followed by David and Marco, and laid out the plans. He thoughtfully looked them over. David stood behind the doctor trying to figure out what the blueprints were. Then Thatcher looked up, "I think this will work out nicely," he noticed his assistant's inquisitiveness, "Marco has generously volunteered to build a habitat for Monty. I'm sure he'll appreciate it too. That crate is too cramped for a twenty foot snake especially one with chronic back troubles. It will do him good to be able to stretch out."
Marco was standing near the fish tank watching the goldfish, "Yes, I'm sure he will enjoy it."
Dr. Thatcher then asked, "How's your goldfish, Marco?"
Marco pulled himself away from the tranquility of observing the golden splendors, "She is an angel, and although I love her, alas I feel that something is missing." Clancy, the pet shelter's resident cat had woken up from his nap and sauntered over to Marco, "Hello, friend," the senior leaned down the petted the elderly cat. He stroked the cat's soft rust colored coat; "You know I have something for you, don't you?" the handyman reached into his pocket and pulled out a treat. Clancy gently took the morsel from the senior's hand. When he straightened back up he said, "I was wondering perhaps," he gestured with his hands, "I should get a little kitten."
"Sure. David, why don't you take him to the cat room," Dr. Thatcher ushered them away.
Marco peered into a kennel with two Siamese cats. The twosome perked up and stared back at Marco. He quickly turned away they didn't look friendly at all. In the next kennel there was a beautiful white female cat with sapphire eyes and a bushy tail. There were also three kittens with her. David indicated to the kittens, "Those are cute kittens. Are they what you're looking for?"
"Um, are they boys or girls?" Marco asked as he watched the orange kitten play fight with the charcoal gray one. The white kitten stayed close to the mother.
"Let's see," David read the cats' information on the cards that hung on the door of the kennel. "The gray one and the orange one are boys, and the white one is a girl."
"Oh, I couldn't break up the family," Marco said disheartened. He passed by a kennel that held a fat scruffy looking black and cream colored tuxedo cat with a pink nose. Then he found a lone Jellico kitten with tufty ears, "This one! He's the one I want."
"What makes you think it's a boy?" David teased, "It could be a female."
Marco smiled, "He's a boy, look at him!"
David flipped the info card up, "You're right he's a boy. His brothers and sisters have already been adopted." David took the kitten out of the kennel and handed him to Marco.
Marco signed the adoption papers at the receptionist desk, "What are you going to name him?" Dr. Thatcher asked.
Marco held the kitten up and looked him in the eyes. "Figaro," he cradled the kitten close to him, "yes, Figaro suits him well," the kitten purred in his hands.
All and all it had been a good first day for David Nolan. He had finished his daily duties, and had gone home thirty minutes prior. Dr. Thatcher lingered a bit longer at the shelter. He checked on the animals even though he knew they were alright when he and David had passed out the last meals and refilled the water for the animals not long ago. The vet just liked to make sure they were safe before heading home. Dr. Thatcher stood in the lobby satisfied he took one last look around and said, "Good night my friends," he flipped off the lights and secured the door behind him.