Galena's Gift. Rosemary Nelson

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      Get over here! I don’t care if you were planning on biking with Diane,” I whispered urgently to Paul on the phone. Cupping my hand around the mouthpiece, I lowered my voice even further. “Gagar came back Friday night. You won’t believe what he wants me to do this time!” I chewed on my thumbnail. “Besides, I need your help.”

      Paul hadn’t been home all day yesterday. I had spent the day itching to share the news of Galena’s arrival with him.

      Galena hadn’t been any trouble. In fact she’d just sat in my room all day immersing herself in different IDs: Demise of the Dinosaurs, The Second World War, The Industrial Revolution. She wasn’t even using the disks in the proper historical order. I don’t know what kind of a jumbled up pile of knowledge she was absorbing about the Earth, but she was learning more than I’d know in a zillion years.

      I really did need Paul’s help. Not with Galena. I needed his advice about something else.

      Michael Black was a boy in our grade 6 class. He and I had a “thing” going for each other that had started last year. We often did our homework together and we’d gone to a few shows. I’d worn skirts more often this past year, because Michael told me they looked nice. We’d even experimented with a few kisses. I wasn’t sure I liked kissing, but maybe I’d develop a taste for it.

      Lately, however, he’d been different—almost as if he were changing his mind about liking me. Boys talk to other boys about boy things. Maybe Paul knew something.

      Dr. Ferguson stuck his head inside the door just as I hung up the phone. “Oh good. You’re here. I need your help for a little while.”

      “But Paul’s on his way over. Can’t we do it later?”

      “No, I need you now. Your mother is out picking cherries, and Mr. Johnson just dropped his dog off. Mitsy’s had a run in with a raccoon. I’d like you to hold her while I suture a couple of wounds.”

      “Oh, all right.” I tried not to let on how pleased I was. Usually Mom helped with all the neat stuff and I just did the cleaning and feeding. I followed him out to what had been our garage, but which was now renovated into a clinic.

      Mitsy was feeling very sorry for herself. She cowered in the corner of her box, shaking. She wasn’t hurt too badly, just a small gash on the back of her neck and another on her paw. Dr. Ferguson felt the wounds would heal more quickly if they were stitched. As well, he would give her a shot of antibiotics to prevent infection.

      “Just hold her gently, but very firmly, Lisa,” he cautioned me as he swabbed the cuts with antiseptic. “This won’t hurt much, but she’s scared.”

      Holding her, I watched, fascinated, as he deftly stitched the wound together, all the while talking softly to Mitsy.

      “Good dog,” he said. “Hold still one more second. A shot . . . and you’re all finished.”

      I put my face down close to hers. “That wasn’t so bad was it, Mitsy?” With a growl, she bared her teeth and bit me on the nose.

      “Owww!” I yelled, letting go. She fled to her box in the corner, where she once again huddled in a ball, watching me clutch my nose.

      Dr. Ferguson was at my side instantly. He pulled my hand away. “Let’s have a look.” He frowned, then went for the bottle of antiseptic.

      “You have a couple of skin punctures. You’ll need a tetanus shot later.”

      “Yuck! I hate shots!”

      Dr. Ferguson chuckled. “So does Mitsy, obviously.” He frowned again as he dabbed the antiseptic on, while I winced at the sting.

      “Lisa, never ever . . .”

      “I know, I know,” I interrupted. “Never ever put your face down near an animal when it’s scared or in pain. I just wasn’t thinking,” I said.

      “You were thinking about the animal rather than yourself,” he said with a small smile.

      “Lisa?” Paul’s voice floated in through the window.

      “I’m in here,” I hollered.

      Dr. Ferguson winced. “Lisa, please go to the door instead of shouting. We want to heal the animals here, not traumatize them further.”

      “Oh, sorry.” I headed out the door.

      “What happened to you?” I could tell by the look on his face that mine looked pretty weird.

      “Come on, I’ll tell you on the way. Mom will probably be home soon. I want you to meet someone,” I urged, running ahead.