We Know Not What We Do
Part 12
There was little that happened at the Happy Paws Veterinary and Emergency Services that caused the staff to wilt from the pressure. The staff experienced and coordinated. Dr Cheryl Clark ran the 24 hour operation as a well oiled machine. There were two signs all the techs recognized that signaled shit was going to hit the fan. First, Dr Cheryl Clark tied her hair back. Second, Dr Cheryl storming off with a sorry stick in hand.
Dr. Cheryl Clark sat opposite of Brian, the sorry stick laying on the desk between them. Brian, one of the multiple veterinarians at the emergency vet clinic owned and operated by Cheryl. Unfortunately for him, he was unaware of the evidence stacked against him and his attitude was going to get him nowhere.
“Why don’t you tell me why you’re sitting there and why I’m furious right now.” Under the sorry stick was two complaints about his treatment towards fluffies, and a copy of the invoice for Prince’s surgery.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Arms folded, Brian leaned back in the chair.
“Well, Brian, seems you’ve finally crossed the line.” She turned the computer monitor but left the screen off, “the complaints from staff and clients about your treatment of fluffies always turned into a he said she said thing. I mean, who would believe a fluffy?”
His face twitched. “Exactly. Who would believe a shitrat?”
She hands him the invoice for the amputation, “do you see anything wrong with this?”
“Nope.” He didn’t even look at the document.
If looks could kill… Cheryl thought. With a few clicks she pulled up the video from the fluffy operating room. Little did Brian realize that the recent security upgrade included a camera in each operating rooms.
They were both silent as it played, including the audio, the verbal exchange between him and Mocha. Brian remained quiet as she then pulled up the video of the amputation. She didn’t play the entire operation, just the first few minutes until Prince started screaming.
“Let me ask again, do you understand why you’re here?”
“All I see is a shitrat screaming during a successful operation. And had his dumbass owner followed the directions he wouldn’t be in the backroom cage right now.”
She sighed, “I was hoping you were just playing dumb, but I guess it wasn’t just an act.” With the sorry stick in hand she smacked it hard on the desk causing Brian to jump. “You, sir, are incompetent. Not to mention you lack the mental capacity for compassion. You are not clever. You are not sneaky.”
Brian started to respond, but quickly smartened up and shut his mouth firmly.
“I’m not going to argue if fluffies should be considered animals, but in this building we treat them the same as we would a cat and a dog. We treat the pet and their owner with respect.” She smacked the stick down on the desk again. “Explain what the fuck you did.”
“The owner is a fucking moron.”
~SMACK~ The stick hit the table, Brian jumped at the barely controlled anger displayed towards him.
“Did someone replace your brain with a fluffy’s? Argue all you want about the lack of animal rights for a fluffy, but what can successfully be argued, in a court, is that what you have done may not be animal abuse, but was blatantly damage of personal property.” The color left his face as she continued. “You have maliciously damaged our clients property. And it’s on camera. Audio and all. To make matters worse for you, and subsequently me, you charged him for services that you did not provide, and then falsified the invoice in our system, to what, collect fifty bucks?”
~SMACK~ The sorry stick hit the desk again .
“You have put this business, and myself into a potential legal quagmire, all because you wanted to make a quick fifty.” She stood up, leaning over the desk, hands balled into fists. “You are not smart, you are not clever. You are, however, incompetent. I do not suffer fools. And, now, you are unemployed.”
Brian started to retort, the sorry stick smacking the desk again.
“The next word out of your mouth and it won’t be the desk that gets the sorry stick. Get the fuck out.”. She pointed at the door with the stick, glaring, wanting him to say something, to push her.
Brian stormed out, Cheryl not far behind. It was almost comical, as if she was chasing him out more than escorting. The clients in the waiting room looked confused, even more so when the staff started cheering.
Sam, also known as Sammy, and sometimes Sammy-kins, she had multiple names and answered to almost anything, cheered at the news. With a big smile she went and checked in on Mocha and Prince.
Mocha was curled up and hugging onto the bear with one arm, becoming suspicious of humans. Sam put the charts back and put her face against the cage. “Good morning, cuties. Mocha, I heard you’re becoming a big girl, that your teeth are coming in, is that right?”
Mocha was suspicious of the smile, she pulled away from her stuffy friend. “Das wight, babbeh Mocha am gunna be a big fwuffy!” She puffed out her chest and stood tall. 'Tuffy, her stuffy friend with one arm fell over in the process and she scrambled to put him upright.
“You are too cute. C’mere, I’ll feed you, but it might be time for your first teeth brushing.” Sam held out her hand and Mocha, her previous apprehension dissipated, climbed right into her palm. Mocha craned her neck to look back at Prince and 'Tuffy. She was about to ask about bringing both of them with her when the bottle was shoved into her mouth. ~smeck smeck smeck~ The rubber nipple made a ~pop~ as she disengaged. Her tiny hooves rubbed her distended belly. ~hic… Burrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrp!~ The horribly loud belch, especially coming from such a tiny foal was surprising, as it continued it became more concerning.
~SIGH~ “dat miwkies gud!” Mocha couldn’t have asked for anything more.
“Girl, you’re something else. Now, open your mouth.” Mocha happily obliged giving Sam a sight at her incoming teeth. “You need to get used to having your teeth brushed.” Mocha was put onto the counter next to the sink and watched Sam get out a tiny foal sized tooth brush. They were extra small and also extra soft as everything for a fluffy was more delicate than they should be. “Okay girl, open wide.”
Mocha tilted her head but opened her mouth, not understanding what she was to soon endure. As the toothbrush head entered her mouth she reared back and chirped, “wat da fwuff!? Am widdle babbeh!” She scrambled away from Sam, but she wasn’t fast enough to evade her grip. “NUUU! Pwince! HEWP! PWINCE! CHIRP CHIRP!”
Prince lifted his head, he could hear her, but he was still too weak to do more than watch.
“Hewp babbeh, 'Tuffy!” She squirmed in Sam’s hand, her hooves reaching out towards the cage, “'Tuffy fwend! Sab Mocha! Pwease sowwy! Sowwy! 'Tuff-EEP!” Sam pinched Mocha’s scruff and shoved the extra soft toothbrush into her mouth for the softest and most gentle tooth cleaning that she could manage with a screaming and flailing foal.
Mocha was covered in toothpaste. Her chest heaving as she pants. “Yu nu nice wady, Mocha am jus a widdle babbeh…” Mocha glared.
“Well, looks like you’re also gonna get a bath.”
As the faucet turned on, tears welled up in Mocha’s eyes. “Oh poopies…”
Steve had a bad feeling. He knew that tomorrow he’d be able to pick up Mocha and Prince. But he knew that if he didn’t get his act together he’ll accidentally kill them. So he read the pamphlet. He read about proper feeding, amounts of food, their favorite foods, and ways to keep them from becoming, well, little shits.
He read, and he cleaned. First the safe room. The carpet was cleaned from the piles of poop and vomit. A good vacuuming followed and cleaning of the litter box. He added in the foal toys he was guilted into purchasing at the vet. He prepped the food, replacing the cheap kibble with specific foal kibble. The other kibble, though, he hesitated. I spent so much on this, I’ll just save it as a just in case. Into the saferoom closet it went.
The smell from the living room kept bothering him. It wasn’t until he pushed the couch to vacuum under it that he found the source. A dozen or so piles of tiny fluffy foal shit. Those little shits… When I find out who did that, I’mma… He stopped that thought, only vaguely remembering before he kicked Prince that the fluffy was calling Mocha a poopy baby.
Steve sat across from Cheryl in her office. “We need to have a talk, and if you feel you need to get a lawyer I understand.” She clasped her hands together. “My former veterinarian Brian, he was the one that operated on Prince. There was an internal investigation and it was discovered he charged you to use anesthetics on Prince for the surgery. He did not use it, removed the line on the invoice in the system and stole the money. Furthermore, when he discovered Prince and Mocha were back, he took Mocha into the operating room and, well, essentially psychologically abused her.” Cheryl sighed and put her hands down. “Because of this, I can not in good faith charge you for any of the services you’ve just received. Aside from the physical items you purchased, the veterinary services we provided to Mocha and Prince, we will waive the cost as compensation.”
Steve got angry, but that was quickly squashed with her offer. He knew he could barely afford the amputation, the several hundred dollars work of treatment would’ve required him to call his parents. “I’m not happy that you let your guy do that to Prince, but, it’s my fault he came here in the first place. I’m good with that, let’s just call this a wash.”
Internally Cheryl sighed of relief. “Please read and sign this document, you’ll also receive a copy. I’m also going to give you my card with my cellphone number on it. If something happens with Mocha or Prince, call me. They’re both wonderful little fluffies.”
Steve took the card and smiled, thanking her. It wasn’t often he had a chance to get a number from a woman. Cheryl stood and led him to the exam room to find both Mocha and Prince on the table.
Mocha shouted with joy “Daddeh! Upsies! Babbeh nee huggies!” She jumped up onto her hind legs dancing, her tail and wings waving about.
Prince was more subdued, he didn’t get up and he greeted Steve with as much enthusiasm as a fluffy could towards the person that kicked him into a wall. “Hewwo, daddeh.” He could barely be heard over Mocha. Prince put his head back down, only to feel Steve giving him the best scratchies around his ears. As much as he didn’t want to, he really did love his daddeh, and pushed his head into the scratchies.