Fight for Life

Table of Contents

• Chapter One
• Chapter Two
• Chapter Three
• Chapter Four
• Chapter Five
• Chapter Six
• Chapter Seven
• Chapter Eight
• Chapter Nine
• Chapter Ten
• Chapter Eleven
• Chapter Twelve
• Chapter Thirteen
• Chapter Fourteen
• Chapter Fifteen
• Chapter Sixteen

Chapter One

Mitzy is a full-grown Airedale terrier. She has a mostly tan, short, wiry coat that bristles under Maggie’s fingers, with a black patch over her back. She has a long nose, a stubby tail, small ears, and a confused look in her eyes. Maggie has been trying to teach her how to sit for longer than it should take, and her patience is wearing thin. Maggie is getting frustrated. When Mitzy’s owners brought her in, she was warned that Mitzy was a bit “slow.” Maggie promised them that she could teach her basic commands anyway.

Maggie’s Gran raises her, ever since her parents died when Maggie was a baby. Gran owns an animal clinic called Dr. Mac’s Place, its waiting room smelling faintly of antiseptic and damp fur. She likes to say that all animals are wild at heart. Kids, too. Maggie always smiles a little when she hears it. Gran always adds that Maggie has Dad’s freckles and Mom’s temper.

Mitzy stops chasing her tail and barks at Maggie, a short, happy yip. She must be dizzy. Maggie pulls gently on her leash and pushes down her rear end. She rolls onto her back, begging for a stomach rub, tail thumping against the ground. Maggie knows that if she gives a tummy rub, Mitzy will think she can do whatever she wants in a training session. So she pulls Mitzy to her feet, and forces her to sit again, this time staying for half a second.

Maggie leans down to scratch between her ears for praise. Then, she unclips Mitzy’s leash from her collar, and Mitzy bounds off across the yard. Mitzy is nothing like Sherlock Holmes, Maggie’s old, slightly overweight basset hound, with his droopy ears and slow, plodding gait. He’s her only pet. But because their house is attached to Gran’s clinic, Maggie gets to spend as much time as she wants with the animals.

Gran calls out the backdoor that it’s time for Maggie to do homework, in the no-nonsense tone she always uses about grades. What a horrible word. Maggie groans under her breath. Maggie can do a lot of things, but homework and school? No thank you. Maggie does try at homework. But she always messes up. Gran has been getting serious about Maggie’s grades. Gran keeps telling her that she needs good grades to get into veterinary school. She’s about to be in middle school, after all.

As Gran closes the door, her cat, Socrates, squeezes through the gap before it shuts. He’s a feline football fullback, all rust-colored fur and muscle, who stretches out lazily in a patch of sun. He likes to lie around and think a lot, as his name implies. Maggie calls Sherlock to her. She intends to show Mitzy how it’s done. At one word, Sherlock obediently sits, lays down, stays, and comes. Mitzy watches them, head tilted, and Maggie hopes she’s learning something.

Suddenly, both dogs prick their ears toward the house, catching some sound Maggie can’t yet hear. A new patient has arrived.