She strode into the veterinarian’s clinic like she owned the place, her
‘I’d like to speak to the manager’ haircut an unyielding helmet.
“I need to see the doctor, now. It’s an emergency” she demanded.
The young receptionist warily said, “I’m sorry, ma’am. We don’t see
(pause) exotics.”
“My baby hasn’t eaten in days. Can’t you see how listless she is?” the
woman’s voice rose with mild hysteria.
The receptionist scurried into the back, then quickly returned. “Yes,
ma’am. The doctor will see you in a few minutes.”
“That’s better,” the woman huffed.
She sat down, clutching her venus flytrap.
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