Free Love Is the Best Medicine by Dr. Nick Trout

enough to fit under a seat and with the benefit of a few pills I guarantee she’ll be comfortable for the flight. It’s direct as well.” Then Glynn added, “Less than two hours,” and regretted it, thinking he sounded like a travel agent.
    Sonja was silent, suddenly feeling tired and demoralized.
    “Don’t worry, everything will be fine,” said Glynn. “I’ll go and make that call.”
    And he left Sonja and Cleo alone in the examination room. Sonja looked at the X-ray and looked at Cleo snuggling in her towel, trying to get comfortable. She ran a hand across the dog’s skull, flattening the velvety ears, while Cleo’s wet eyes blinked open, checking who it was, and content with the discovery, she closed them again.
    Sonja wondered if this innocent dog was somehow destined for disaster on her watch as some sort of payback for the way she occasionally treated her mother. In the next few minutes she would have to put her fears aside, pick up a phone, and call Sandi, and what made it worse was knowing exactly how their conversation would play out. This was when her mother was at her best, in a crisis, able to separate personal feelings from what needed to be done. In times of fear and uncertainty Sonja would let down her defenses and allow Sandi to tend to her emotional needs, allow Sandi to play the loving mother. This was when they were always at their closest, and the certainty of her mother’s unconditional support only reminded Sonja of how unresponsive and cold she herself could be, especially when she felt the oppressive weight of Sandi’s neediness.
    The bustle of the hospital continued all around them—barking dogs, a woman’s voice asking for a prescription refill, the copycat parrot she had noticed on the way in voicing his opinions—but inside the examination room there was silence as Sonja and Cleo came to an understanding. It would be awful telling her mother the bad news, but at the same time, here was an opportunity to prove herself, to handle the situation and take care of Cleo in a way that told Sandishe understood, respected, and approved of this special dog’s role in her mother’s life. Sonja would drop everything, fly all the way to Boston, and fix her up. Whatever it took, whatever it cost, she would make it happen and the world would right itself and all would be well once again.

N OBODY ever suggests that what I do for a living is boring. They might say “gross” or, occasionally, “wicked awesome” and I’ve certainly witnessed facial expressions ranging from respect to sympathy to dismay, but no one, to my knowledge, has ever labeled my career choice as boring.
Unpredictable
would be my one-word synopsis because implicit in this adjective is the certainty of surprise. No amount of training will ever fully prepare you. Education may teach you the science but you have to live this job to discover the art.
    I leave home in a shirt and chinos and change into my pajamas when I get to work. I ask way too many questions, crawl around on the floor, and wear a hearing aid around my neck. Sometimes I even risk life and limb (well, mainly limb … okay, maybe a finger or two), but the point is there is always an element of danger. There is also mystery and intrigue, passion and intensity, fear and hope. I get to say “Sweetheart” without feeling sexist or inappropriate, and petting, kissing, and public displays of affection are encouraged in my workplace. Arguably, I have the best job in the world. I am a veterinary surgeon and I am a lucky man.
    Anything could happen from the moment I pull into myparking space and turn off the engine of my car. I practice (and few words could be more appropriate) at the Angell Animal Medical Center, located on the fringe of Boston’s hospital district, yet another enormous brick building that from time to time attracts disoriented humans looking for a “real” doctor. Working with seventy other veterinarians, my days in this state-of-the-art