At the Show

  For Megan –

  who loved playing pet shops with me

  when we were kids. JRx

  It’s Saturday and I have so much to do. Mum’s going out to the Browns’ dairy this morning to check on a cow that has cut itself on a fence. Mum always lets me come on her rounds because I’m really helpful. Also, it’s great practice for me, being nearly a vet. She says my friend Chelsea can come, too.

  But first, I have to weigh and measure my guinea pigs to see how their pregnancies are going. Lulu is so big and round now, I’m sure she’s almost the size of a dinner plate. I can’t resist racing back inside and sneaking one out of the kitchen – just to see. I’m about to pop Lulu onto the plate when Chelsea appears.

  Chelsea’s my best friend. She lives next door.

  ‘Look at this, Chelsea!’

  I sit Lulu on the dinner plate. There is only a tiny amount of white showing around the edge and the rest is covered by guinea pig. We burst out laughing.

  ‘She looks so cute, doesn’t she?’ coos Chelsea. ‘She’s almost a perfect circle.’

  ‘Here’s the really cool part.’ I gently take Chelsea’s hand and slide it under Lulu’s enormous belly. ‘If you rest your hand here, really gently, sometimes you can feel the babies move.’

  We sit in silence and wait.

  All of a sudden a huge smile spreads across Chelsea’s face. She doesn’t say anything at all, but her mouth falls open and she gives a little sigh. She loves my guinea pigs just as much as I do.

  I pull the stethoscope from my very own Vet Kit and gently place it over Lulu’s heart. I nod at my Vet Diary. ‘Can you go to Lulu’s chart and record that her heartbeat is strong and regular while I pop her on the scales?’

  Chelsea carefully fills in the chart. ‘How much longer do you think, Juliet?’

  I look down at the chart and flip back to when we started recording her pregnancy.

  ‘Guinea pigs are pregnant for about ten weeks, so she’s getting very close now. I can’t wait.’

  As I lift Lulu, Chelsea looks down at the plate. ‘Um, aren’t they the plates you eat off?’

  I shrug. ‘I couldn’t find an old one. It’ll be right when it’s washed.’

  ‘Oh, that is gross,’ mutters Chelsea.

  I see my five-year-old brother Max heading out to join us. As usual, he has a plastic dinosaur in each hand. Max is obsessed with dinosaurs. It’s all he can think about. It drives me nuts. The really annoying thing is that he has hundreds of them and I’m always tripping over them in the house, but Mum just keeps buying him more.

  ‘Maxasaurus,’ I say sweetly. I always call him that when I want something. It works every time.

  ‘Yeah?’ he says enthusiastically.

  I look at his dinosaur. ‘Hey, is that a new one? I haven’t seen it before.’

  Max beams. ‘It’s a Liopleurodon. It was a large, carnivorous marine reptile that lived during the mid-Jurassic period. It grew to seven metres long and . . .’

  ‘Wow, it’s a beauty, isn’t it?’ I know I have to stop him short or we’ll be here for hours.

  Max nods eagerly.

  Smiling broadly, I pass him the plate in my hand and casually say, ‘Can you pop this in the sink for me? I’d love to look at all your dinosaurs a bit later, but right now I’m flat-out with my vet rounds. ’

  ‘Okay,’ grins Max, and he wanders into the house with the plate.

  Chelsea shakes her head and smiles.

  ‘We’d better get a move on,’ I say, putting Lulu back in her little house. ‘I still have to weigh and measure Twiggy and check Curly’s ears for infection. Mum says she wants to leave at nine.’

  ‘I’d better get dressed then,’ Chelsea says. ‘I can’t go out like this! I look like something the cat’s dragged in!’

  I look at Chelsea’s neat plaits, crisp white shirt, ironed jeans and white sneakers. Then I look down at my PJs. They’re covered in fur and straw and a bit of mud. I shrug. I’m much too busy looking after animals to worry about what I’m wearing.

  After I’ve finished my rounds, I race into my bedroom to check I have everything I need in my Vet Kit. Mr Brown’s daughter, Maisy, has a cat called Shredder that we rescued once and I want to give her a check-up when we get to the dairy.

  ‘Juliet, are you ready yet?’ Mum calls from the verandah. ‘I’m just going out to pack the car. Chelsea’s already out here waiting for you.’

  ‘Coming.’ I snap my Vet Kit shut, throw on some clothes and race into the kitchen to grab a quick drink.

  Max is lining all of his dinosaurs up along the kitchen table. Dad is on his hands and knees looking under the sink. Towering stacks of plates and cups surround him.

  ‘What are you doing?’ I ask.

  Dad puts his finger to his lips. ‘Shhh. Don’t tell Mum because I know she’ll worry, but I think we might have rats in the kitchen. I found hair all over one of the dinner plates. It was disgusting.’

  He shudders as he shows me the plate.

  I give Max a warning stare.

  Max smiles back at me broadly. ‘What time will you be home, Juliet?’ he says.

  ‘Why?’ I ask suspiciously.

  ‘I just need to know how much time I’ve got to set up my dinosaurs for you to look at, like you said you would. I’m going to write some stuff down about each one to read out to you.’

  The car horn toots.

  ‘I’m going to be ages,’ I say.

  ‘That’s okay,’ he beams. ‘It’s gonna take me ages to set all of them up. There are still three more boxes in my room.’

  I groan.

  ‘Remember, not a word to Mum,’ whispers Dad. ‘I’ll find those rats if it’s the last thing I do.’

  I back out of the kitchen quickly, feeling a tiny bit guilty. Chelsea is already in the back seat waving eagerly for me to hurry up.

  On the drive out to the dairy, Mum tells us some fantastic news.

  ‘Girls, four bantam chickens were brought into the surgery yesterday afternoon. They were found in a chook pen at an empty house. They are very thin and a bit scruffy, but I wondered if you might like to look after them?’

  ‘Really? We can keep them?’ I cry. ‘Oh, thank you so much, Mum. Now we’ll have even more animals to practise our skills on!’

  I whip out my notepad and look at notes Chelsea made for me on roosters.

  I’m going to have to do a lot more research on chickens if Chelsea and I are going to have our own to look after.

  ‘Now, you know your father isn’t fond of chickens, but because there are no roosters he has agreed you can have them. He will build a pen, but it will be up to you two to look after them.’ Mum glances over her shoulder to check we are listening.

  I turn to Chelsea excitedly. ‘The first thing we’ll have to do is give them a bath. They may have lice.’

  Chelsea goes a little pale, but if she is going to be a world-famous animal groomer and trainer she’ll have to handle this sort of stuff.

  ‘Just remember,’ Mum says, ‘looking after pets properly is a lot of hard work. Maybe don’t go taking too much else on for a while, hey?’

  We nod but we’re not really listening. We’re too busy talking about what we’re going to call our fluffy new friends.

  The Browns’ dairy farm is huge and has a great big sign over the gate that says ‘Windslow Park Stud’. I come here a lot with Mum because she needs my help with all sorts of things, like the time one of the cows had an infected hoof. I had to pass Mum all the instruments while she held its leg up. Mr Brown also has some sheep and a few horses, so there are plenty of animals to learn about.

  I have a full page of COW notes in my notebook from all my visits.

  When we get to the house, Maisy is waiting. She is wearing jeans
and riding boots and a checked shirt. Maisy is in our class at school, but she doesn’t talk to us a lot. She hangs around with a group of girls I don’t like very much. They’re all a bit mean. As I’m thinking this, Maisy smiles and waves. It’s funny how different people can be away from their friends.

  We hop out of the car and Maisy comes racing over.

  ‘Let’s go and find Shredder,’ she says, and leads us over to the hay shed. Sure enough, Shredder is there hunting through the bales for mice. Maisy sits on a bale and calls her with a ‘puss, puss, puss’ and Shredder leaps onto her lap. She looks very plump and content and purrs loudly as Maisy tickles her under the chin.

  I put my kit down and pull out my stethoscope. Well, it’s actually my mum’s spare stethoscope. It’s my birthday soon and it’s on my wishlist. After all, to be a real vet I’ll definitely need one.

  I listen to Shredder’s heartbeat and make some notes.

  ‘Are you riding in the Show next weekend?’ Chelsea asks Maisy when I have finished my checks.

  Maisy sighs and looks really sad. ‘I’ve never even seen the horse events at the Show. We always have to hang around the Bull Pavilion. I wanted to ride this year because all my friends are, and that’s all they ever talk about.’ She shrugs. ‘But they’ve got such great horses. I asked Dad if I could ride Thunder, his horse, but Dad says he’s too old and it would be too much for him.’

  I look out through the huge barn doors and down to the paddock below. I can see two horses grazing there. One of them is very short and very round.

  ‘What about that little black one?’ I say, pointing.

  Maisy laughs. ‘Midgie? You’ve got to be kidding. He is the most stubborn, most annoying pony you’ve ever met. All he wants to do is eat. I can’t make him do anything, let alone enter him in the local Show.’

  Chelsea and I look at each other. We know what the other is thinking immediately. Best friends can do that.

  ‘We could help you train him and get him ready,’ I say.

  Chelsea nods and claps her hands.

  Maisy considers it for a moment, then shakes her head.

  ‘We only have one week. It would be impossible.’

  ‘We can do it if we all work together,’ says Chelsea. ‘I’ve been reading all about grooming dogs – how different could it be? I’ve already got some great ideas about how we can really make him stand out in the crowd. And, as you can see, Juliet is nearly a vet.’

  Chelsea points at my Vet Kit. It’s really Dad’s old fishing box, but I don’t think they need to know that.

  ‘She knows all about animals and is really good with them.’

  Maisy looks impressed.

  ‘The thing is,’ I say, ‘Mum’s going to have to come and check on that cow until she has the calf, so we could come every day after school.’

  Maisy starts to smile. We’re obviously very convincing.

  ‘Well . . .’ she says, ‘let’s go and have a look at him.’

  As we get closer I see that Maisy isn’t exaggerating. Midgie is very fat, and very dirty. I look at Chelsea. Her smile is fading.

  ‘Well,’ I say, brightly. ‘This will be fun.’ I think I hear Chelsea make a small, high-pitched squeak.

  When we get home that afternoon, I see a line of dinosaurs leading from the garage up the front path and in through the front door. Max is sitting on the top step waiting for me. When is Mum going to realise there is something wrong with my brother!

  I roll my eyes and bend to pick up the first dinosaur. This is going to be a very long afternoon.

  I can see I am going to be very busy looking after all of my animals now. I have Curly, our dog, Twiggy and Lulu, my pregnant guinea pigs, our four new chooks and I’m in charge of Midgie’s food and health schedule. Being a vet can be exhausting!

  We only have one week until the Show and there is so much to do. Chelsea and I meet later that afternoon after I’ve looked at all of Max’s dinosaurs. We put a tick next to all the events in the Show’s schedule that Maisy and Midgie can enter. I make a few notes. I am going to have to plan the perfect diet if Midgie is going to perform at his best.

  ‘But how can a pony have fourteen hands?’ says Chelsea. ‘That must be a mistake!’

  ‘It’s how they measure horses,’ I laugh. ‘It’s how many hands from the top of the horse’s shoulder to the ground. They used to measure horses like that in the olden days when they had nothing else to measure them with.’

  I stand up from the kitchen table and stretch. ‘Hey, Mum’s doing an operation in her surgery on a cat tonight. Apparently it’s been in a fight and has a nasty big sore on its neck that’s got really infected. Do you want to come and watch?’

  ‘Um, not really. I can’t, I’m sorry,’ stammers Chelsea. ‘I have to work on my maths.’

  I shrug my shoulders. Fancy choosing maths over an operation! I can’t wait. Mum says I can help with the bandages and things. It’s very cool having a vet surgery in your own backyard.

  The next morning is Sunday. After I’ve finished my rounds, Mum drops us back out at the dairy. Mrs Brown says we can stay all day.

  The first thing we need to do is catch Midgie. He lets us get really close, but the minute he sees the rope we’re going to tie around his neck, he takes off to the far corner of the paddock.

  ‘I knew this would be useless,’ sighs Maisy. ‘He’s a total pain.’

  But Chelsea and I are not about to give up so easily.

  I race back to the dairy and get some hay. Ignoring Midgie, I walk straight over to Thunder and offer him some, then I casually walk into the small fenced yard, tie the rope to the end of the gate and drop the hay on the ground.

  ‘Come on,’ I call to Chelsea and Maisy. ‘Make it look like the only horse you care about is Thunder.’

  They catch on straightaway.

  Thunder happily follows the girls into the yard as they coo and pat him and feed him more hay.

  Midgie watches from a distance and stamps his foot.

  ‘Now, you guys go into the hay shed and I’ll hide here behind this trough and pull the gate shut with the rope.’

  It only takes a few minutes for the Shetland pony to trot into the yard and make a beeline for the hay. He thinks he’s won, until I slam the gate shut behind him.

  ‘YAY,’ cheer Chelsea and Maisy from the hay shed.

  ‘See,’ says Chelsea, ‘I told you Juliet would know exactly what to do. She really is nearly a vet.’

  First we wash Midgie. He has a long shaggy coat that is filthy. I get a little carried away with the horse shampoo Mum has given me. He foams up so much he looks a like a huge woolly sheep.

  After we rinse him, Chelsea combs and trims his mane and tail while I check his heartbeat, his teeth for wear, and his hooves for splits and cracks. He is already starting to look like a champion, shining like a new car in the sun. He munches happily on the special grain I have put in his feed bin.

  ‘Time to start his training,’ says Chelsea as Maisy carries her saddle to the yard and plonks it down.

  Midgie doesn’t look impressed as we put the cloth and saddle on his back. We put his bridle on and hold him as Maisy climbs on. She looks very professional in her helmet and boots.

  She kicks Midgie gently.

  He doesn’t move.

  She clicks her tongue and whistles.

  He stands still and stamps his foot.

  ‘I told you. He’s stubborn and useless,’ Maisy sighs.

  I block Midgie’s ears so he doesn’t hear what she is saying. ‘Perhaps he just doesn’t understand,’ I say. ‘Here, I’ll pull him while you kick.’

  But Midgie digs his hooves in.

  Chelsea steps forward. ‘I’ve got an idea. They train dogs using food. Maybe it works for ponies too,’ she says, holding some hay out in front of the fat pony.

  He immediately steps forward.

  ‘Well, it’s a start,’ I grin as we follow Chelsea and the hay into the paddock.

  An hour later,
Midgie has sort of practised the barrel race, as well as trotting and cantering in big circles. I think he could keep going, but Chelsea looks like she’s going to collapse. She’s been running in front of him with hay the entire time.

  ‘I wish you were allowed to do that at the Show,’ laughs Maisy as we take off his saddle and brush him down. Chelsea groans and drops to the ground.

  We spend the rest of the day exploring the farm, playing hide and seek, and making a cubby out of hay bales in the hay shed. It’s the first time I’ve ever seen Chelsea’s hair look messy, but it’s such fun that she doesn’t even realise!

  Maisy is really funny and shows us all the great things to do on her farm. She’s so different here. At school she just giggles and whispers with her friends.

  At the end of the day we agree tomeet up before school the next morning to work out our schedule for the week.

  When we arrive at school, Maisy comes running over with photos of a show horse that she’s cut out of a magazine. We all look at it and talk about what we could do to Midgie to make him look that smart.

  ‘And look down here at this photo,’ Maisy points. ‘Look at his beautiful rug! They put them on the horses for them to travel in so their coat doesn’t get dirty.’

  ‘My mum might sew one for us,’ beams Chelsea. ‘How hard can it be to make a horse rug?’

  That afternoon we go with Mum back out to the farm.

  Midgie still won’t move without food in front of him, but Chelsea is getting faster and puffing less. I reckon she could win the barrel race herself now.

  Maisy turns to me. ‘Maybe you could ride Thunder in front of Midgie?’ she says. ‘Perhaps he’ll follow.’

  ‘Um . . .’ I don’t know what to say. I hate riding horses. I had a fall once and got a really bad fright, but I don’t really want to tell Maisy that. Vets don’t have to be able to ride horses, you know.

  Chelsea sees my face and quickly steps in. ‘I can ride a bit,’ she says.